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hoshifighting · 2 months ago

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— Synopsis: After a series of graffiti attacks on your bakery, you find out Jihoon is the vandal behind it, frustrated because your shop's success has outshone his grandma's bakery. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, physical violence (reader hits jihoon with a mop, vandalism), jealousy, emotional conflict, fingering, blowjob, hair pulling, semi-public sex, cock riding, overwhelming, body fluids (cum), no protection, fetish elements—being painted with grafitty during sex, claiming, mention of an enormous cock on the bakery's wall.

Your arms are crossed in a tight clutch as you stare at the front door of the bakery, the black, fresh tags sprayed across the pastel walls like an ugly bruise. It’s the same crap, just a new day. The pink and white of your shop—the delicate aesthetic that drew people in—was constantly being smeared by some low-life with a spray can. Months of this, and all the cameras ever caught was a faceless guy in a black hoodie. Useless.

With a frustrated sigh, you unlock the door, pushing it open with more force than necessary. The day needed to start, vandalism or not. You open the windows, letting the fresh morning air in. At least the floors were clean, thanks to the obsessive mopping you’d done last night. That had become a habit lately, one of the few things you could control.

You grab a bowl, dumping the ingredients for cake batter in with a bit too much force. Your arm flexes as you whip the fouet through the mix, your irritation guiding every furious stroke. It’s therapeutic, in a way—until Mingyu walks in.

“Are you... trying to murder the batter?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice as he sets his stuff in the locker. “You’re about to crack the bowl in half.”

You glance up, still scowling, but the comment catches you off guard. “Shu’up, Mingyu. You would be mixing like this too if someone graffitied your walls for the hundredth time.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be so dramatic about it,” he teases, walking over to grab his apron. “It’s just a little paint. You act like the world’s ending.”

“It’s not just paint! It’s every day with this. And it’s not even good graffiti. It’s just some bullshit tags that don’t mean anything.”

Mingyu laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, some people might say you’re overthinking it. Maybe the artist is just misunderstood. Maybe there’s a deeper meaning.”

“‘Eat shit’ has no deeper meaning,” you deadpan, pushing the bowl to the side. “And I’ve got a cake due at 3 p.m. Can you please help me with the fondant? I need to leave on time for class.”

“Gastronomy waits for no one,” he quips, moving to help you.

You sigh, rubbing your forehead with the back of your hand. “Exactly. And if I’m late, I’m fucked. So let's get this done.”

Mingyu chuckles, but he gets to work, his hands already busy with rolling out the fondant. “You ever think of just... catching the guy yourself? Stake out the place or something?”

“Yeah, because that’s a great use of my time,” you mutter. “I’ve got school, work, and now this mystery asshole. Besides, what am I supposed to do? Sit outside all night and wait to get jumped?”

“Hey, you might scare him off with your mixing technique alone.”

You snort. “At this point, I’d rather beat him over the head with the bowl.”

— // NEXT DAY // —

You’re bent over the counter, carefully arranging the pies and cupcakes in the vitrine, when the bell above the door jingles. The sound makes you straighten up automatically, pasting on your best “welcome to my bakery” smile.

“Good morning! What can I get you today?” you ask, looking up to see Mrs. Yang, one of your more... particular customers. She smiles politely, her bag clutched in one hand, and takes her time approaching the counter.

“Good morning, dear,” she says, her voice too sweet for whatever she’s about to say next. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about... the situation outside.”

Here we go.

You nod, still smiling like your life depends on it. “Yes, we’ve been dealing with some, uh... graffiti issues lately.”

Her lips purse. “It’s quite the eyesore, don’t you think? Having that sort of thing on the storefront isn’t good for business, especially with such a nice bakery like yours. People might get the wrong impression. I wouldn’t want to bring my friends here if it continues.”

You feel Mingyu’s eyes on you from the back, wide and alarmed like he’s bracing himself for whatever smartass remark is about to leave your mouth. You can almost hear him holding his breath.

But instead of snapping, you swallow it down. Barely.

“I understand, Mrs. Yang. We’re working on getting it removed as soon as possible,” you say, your voice calm and professional, even though your brain is screaming, What the hell do you want me to do? Hand-paint the walls every night?

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll handle it,” she replies with a thin smile, “You always do such a lovely job here. I’ll have two of the lemon tarts, please.”

“Of course,” you say, grabbing the tarts and ringing her up, every muscle in your body tense as you try not to explode. “That’ll be $8.50.”

As she leaves, Mingyu sidles up behind you. “You alright? That looked painful.”

You shoot him a glare. “Shut up before I throw a tart at you.”

He just laughs. “Hey, props for not biting her head off. That’s growth.”

Your day only goes downhill from there.

An order comes in last-minute, right when you're about to head out for a cake delivery, forcing you to juggle too many tasks at once. The fondant on the cake cracks just as you’re trying to finish it, and you nearly drop the entire thing when you’re loading it into the car. By the time you deliver it, you're ten minutes late, and the client is tapping her foot like you ruined her wedding or something.

As you drive away, you notice that some idiot in the parking lot nicked the side of your car with their door. The scrape is fresh, ugly, and just another thing you don’t have time to deal with.

By the time you make it to the university, you’re on edge. Every little thing is pissing you off—the late delivery, the car, Mrs. Yang’s passive-aggressive comments replaying in your head.

You stomp into the classroom, tossing your bag on the desk as you take your seat. Your friend, Jiyeon, looks up from her notes, immediately catching the “I’m about to lose it” vibe radiating from you.

“Woah, woah... Don’t talk to me,” you say, waving her off before she even opens her mouth.

She raises her hands in mock surrender, exasperated. “Okay, okay, damn. I wasn’t even gonna say anything!”

From the corner of your eye, you catch the guy sitting next to you glancing over. He’s half-smirking, like he’s amused by your bad mood. You roll your eyes as you pull your utensils from your bag.

“The hell you lookin’ at?” you snap, not really in the mood for whatever attitude he’s giving you.

He just raises an eyebrow, unfazed. “Nothing. Chill.”

You huff, biting your tongue. “Whatever, man.”

As class starts, you try to focus on the lecture, but it feels like everything is stacking up, one annoying thing after another. You’re counting down the hours until you can get out of here and back to the bakery, where at least you can take your frustrations out on some dough.

[...]

The bakery is finally quiet. You’ve set the doughs to rest for tomorrow, turned off the colorful lights, and now it’s just you, the mop, and the hum of the radio. There’s something peaceful about the dark bakery—like it’s resting, too, after a long, chaotic day. The floor’s slick beneath the mop as you drag it in lazy strokes, the apron around your neck, always too tight, was finally off.

It’s quiet out there too. Rush hour’s over, people are strolling by in pretty scarves, leaving their cubicles for the day. Not that you’d ever want that life. That could never be you—this was your space, your bakery. You’d rather be here, mopping your own floors than stuck in some windowless office.

Even if your apron’s been digging into your neck all damn day. You rub at the sore spot, sighing, when—

Wait.

What the fuck? You squint, eyes narrowing as some guy steps right up to your bakery window, a paint can in hand. You watch in disbelief as he starts spraying. Right on your wall. Again.

You don’t even think. You just move. The front glass door slams open so hard the bell almost flies off, the aggressive clatter echoing behind you as you stomp out, mop still in hand.

“YA! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

The guy barely turns, but it’s too late. You’re already swinging. The wooden handle of your mop cracks across his back with a satisfying thud, and he lets out this startled grunt, almost tripping over his own feet. You swing again, harder this time, and it echoes across the empty street. Even the homeless guy across the road—the one you always give leftover tarts to—jumps in his spot, startled.

“What the fuck, you asshole! You think this is funny?!” you yell, swinging the mop at him again as he ducks, letting out an “ouch” with each hit. “You keep tagging my walls, and I’m the one paying for this shit! Do you even know how much it costs to get this cleaned? Huh?!”

“Ouch, fuck! Stop, STOP!” he stammers, arms up, trying to shield himself.

You don’t stop. You’re done with this day, done with this week, done with this punk-ass artist ruining your bakery’s vibe. “You piece of shit! You’re dead! I’m gonna shove this can so far up your—”

“What the hell?!” the guy stumbles, trying to dodge your swings, but you’re relentless.

“You think you can just waltz in and spray whatever dumb shit you want? You’re gonna clean this up with your tongue, you little—”

Before you can deliver another hit, the guy turns around, and his hood falls back. Your breath catches.

“Jihoon?!”

The guy grimaces, rubbing his back where you’ve practically beat the soul out of him, but it’s definitely him. The same Jihoon you snapped at in class today, the same Jihoon you barely tolerate during group projects. The fucker who’s been defacing your bakery.

You blink, still holding the mop in a death grip. “So it was you, you fucking idiot?! You’ve been doing this the whole time?!”

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, still smirking like this is some kind of joke. “Well... I wouldn’t say the whole time.”

“You—” You jab the mop handle at him again, making him flinch. “You’re going to clean this up. I don’t care how. Hell, you can start with your tongue if you’re so attached to your damn art.”

“Woah, woah.” He holds his hands up in surrender, backing up a step. “I didn’t think you’d take it so personally. I mean, it’s just paint.”

“Just paint?” you repeat, incredulous. “I’ve had customers complain, the city’s sent me notices, and you’re out here calling it just paint? Are you fucking insane?”

“Come on, the tags aren’t that bad.”

“Oh, no. They’re shit. Like, the worst shit I’ve ever seen,” you bite out.

You cross your arms, staring Jihoon down as he leans awkwardly against the wall.

“You know what? I should call the police on you.”

His eyes go wide, his posture straightening instantly. “No, no, no! Come on, don’t do that!”

You slowly pull your phone from your back pocket, waving it in front of him as you point a finger at his chest. “I think it’s about time you get what’s coming to you.”

Panic flashes across his face, and he lunges forward, trying to grab your phone, but you thrust the mop at his chest, pressing it against him to keep him at bay. “Back off!”

He stumbles back, frowning, his lips jutting out in a sulk. “I don’t wanna go to jail! I don’t wanna sleep in the cold!” His feet stomp on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum, the whole thing looking ridiculous enough that anyone watching might think this was an opening scene from The Office.

You ignore his whining and start dialing, but he won’t shut up. “Please! You can’t let me go to jail over some paint!”

“You should’ve thought about that before tagging my bakery again.” You cut him off, giving him a pointed look. “Why the hell have you been doing this? And don’t think I didn’t notice the enormous dick spray-painted on the back of my shop either.”

Jihoon stays quiet for a moment, avoiding your eyes as he shifts on his feet. His hands fidget with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you narrow your eyes, sensing something off.

“Well? Spit it out,” you demand.

He mumbles something, so low you can barely hear.

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What?”

His face goes red, and he mutters again, “Only if... you let me try one of your tarts.”

You blink, leaning in closer. “What was that? Speak up, punk.”

Jihoon sighs, cheeks practically glowing. “I said... I want to try one of your tarts, okay?!”

For a second, you just stare at him, completely dumbfounded. Then, you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you serious right now?”

He nods, keeping his head down, looking smaller and more pathetic than you ever imagined he could.

“You’re telling me... you come here, paint my walls like a little delinquent, and now you want a fucking tart? You—”

You breathe in, trying to summon every ounce of patience you have left. The tarts are your best sellers—the buttery crust, fresh fruit, and creamy filling that made your bakery famous not just in the neighborhood but all over town. People raved about them, coming from across the city just to get their hands on one. Hell, students from your college made regular stops just to bring some back to class.

Your shoulders sag in exasperation, but you eventually gesture toward the door. “Fine. Get inside.”

Jihoon looks up, surprised but not daring to push his luck. You flip the lights back on, the bakery coming to life once more. Heading to the back, you grab a fresh tart from the display, muttering curses under your breath as you shout, “Which one do you want?”

“Strawberry!” he calls out.

You grab a pink plate and set the tart delicately in the center, placing it on the counter with one of your signature gold-colored forks and a neatly folded napkin. When you walk over to the table Jihoon picked, nestled in a corner, you notice him glancing around the bakery with a curious expression, taking in the space like he’s never seen it properly before.

He sits down, eyeing the tart suspiciously at first. You cross your arms and sit across from him, your foot bouncing impatiently under the table. You can’t help but suppress an inner smile—every customer had the same reaction to their first bite, and you’re secretly waiting for it.

Jihoon picks up the fork, hesitantly cutting into the tart. As soon as the buttery crust gives way, the scent of fresh strawberries and sweet cream fills the air. He takes a bite, and his eyes widen almost immediately. He chews slowly, like he’s processing the taste, his expression changing from sulky to... amazed.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs under his breath, glancing up at you, eyes wide. “This is... really good.”

You lean back, crossing your arms tighter. “Yeah. That’s what people keep saying.”

He takes another bite, and then another, clearly trying not to devour the whole thing in two seconds. His face softens, the usual smugness gone, replaced by genuine awe. He looks around the bakery again, understanding slowly sinking in. The care you put into every detail—the soft lighting, the warmth, the way the scent of fresh-baked goods fills the air. It’s no wonder other bakeries in the area couldn’t compete.

No wonder people kept coming back.

Jihoon finally looks up, sheepish but impressed.

You shift in your seat, arms still crossed, and stare at Jihoon as he wipes his mouth with the napkin, setting it down with a quiet sigh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his posture heavy with something unsaid.

“So… you gonna tell me why you’ve been punking my bakery?” you ask, your voice less biting than before, though the edge is still there.

Jihoon hesitates, glancing out the window for a moment like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he sighs again. “We had a bakery, me and my grandma. It was right across the street.”

You frown, your head tilting slightly as you turn to glance outside through the window. Yeah, you remembered that place. It had that old-school charm, the kind of bakery that felt like a cozy throwback to the 60s, with its wooden benches and rustic signage. It had been there before you moved into the neighborhood. You even remembered the old lady that used to work there, always with a smile, though her hands were slow and her voice even slower. The front of the bakery had been boarded up for months now, closed and forgotten by most.

Jihoon continues, his voice lower. “Before you opened up, we did well. My grandma’s tarts were, like, the thing around here. People came from all over to buy them.” He pauses, and you see his shoulders drop slightly. “But after your tarts took off… we started losing customers. A lot of them.”

You don’t say anything, but the tension in the air thickens. You swallow, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable weight in your chest. You remember seeing them sitting outside their shop, the once-busy bakery now quiet as yours boomed with success.

“We tried to keep up,” Jihoon says, his voice a little shaky. “But no one came in anymore. People stopped buying our stuff. My grandma and I used to just sit there on the bench, watching people line up outside your place while we were lucky to sell a couple tarts.” He laughs, but it’s hollow, like he’s mocking the memory. “She’d pretend it didn’t bother her, but I knew. I knew it killed her inside.”

You feel a knot form in your stomach, guilt creeping in even though you know it wasn’t really your fault. Still, hearing it from him, the weight of their loss, makes you look down at the table, feeling suddenly small.

“What was I supposed to do?” you ask softly, the words barely escaping your mouth. “This was my dream too.”

Jihoon nods, almost like he understands, though there’s still bitterness in his tone. “I know. And it’s not like you did anything wrong. Your bakery is… well, people love it. They loved your tarts. And I guess, after a while, I just got so… mad.”

He looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. “We had to close the bakery. We couldn’t keep up. And I started working in the city, doing graffiti, whatever I could to make ends meet.” He shakes his head, laughing without humor again. “And when I saw people still lining up here, day after day, it just… pissed me off. So I started tagging your walls. Stupid, I know.”

You feel a lump in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. You glance back out the window, seeing the boarded-up bakery in the distance, and it stirs something deep inside. His frustration, his anger… it all makes sense now.

“I didn’t understand,” Jihoon says, his voice softer now, almost defeated. “I couldn’t figure out how your tarts were better than my grandma’s. It didn’t make sense to me. We’d been here for years. How could people just forget about us?” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression sad. “But now I get it. I guess… your tarts really are better.”

The way he says it, with that empty laugh, hits you right in the chest. There’s no joy in his voice, no real acceptance, just this sad realization that his family’s legacy had been outdone by you.

You lower your gaze, feeling awful. “Jihoon…” You want to say something, anything, to ease the guilt gnawing at you, but what could you even say? You worked hard for this. It wasn’t like you meant to destroy his bakery. But it’s clear now that, in a way, you did.

“I never meant for this to happen,” you mumble, your voice quieter than you intended. “It’s not like I wanted to take business away from you guys.”

He waves it off, but his eyes don’t meet yours. “I know. It’s just how it worked out. You did what you had to do. I just… I didn’t know what else to do but get mad at you for it.”

The silence between you is thick, heavy with unsaid things. Jihoon keeps his gaze on the table, his fingers playing with the edges of the napkin, while you try to process the weight of everything he just said.

And as much as you want to feel justified—after all, you didn’t do anything wrong—there’s a part of you that can’t shake the sadness settling deep in your chest. You glance out the window again, at the closed shop across the street, and for the first time, you wonder what it must’ve been like for them, watching your bakery rise while theirs fell apart.

Jihoon’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I don’t know… it’s dumb. You didn’t mean to screw us over. I just… I just miss the way things used to be.”

You breathe in deeply, trying to push down the growing lump in your throat.

The silence between you two lingers, stretching out like the stillness of the night outside. You can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator behind the counter, the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall. You breathe in, thinking of something to say, and for a moment, Jihoon glances up at you, expectant. But when you close your mouth again, he looks away, fingers fidgeting with the napkin.

Finally, you place your hand on the wooden table between you, the sound of your fingers brushing the grain breaking the silence. "What kind of tarts did your grandma sell?" you ask, voice steady but curious.

Jihoon frowns, clearly taken off guard by the question. "Savory ones," he says after a beat, as if testing the waters of the conversation.

Your brow lifts in surprise. Savory tarts weren’t really your thing—you specialized in the sweet stuff. "Savory?" you lean in a bit, curiosity piqued. "Like what?"

Jihoon seems to hesitate, unsure of where you’re going with this, but then he starts listing them off, voice soft at first but growing stronger. "Palm heart or olives, ham, and cheese, sometimes we’d do quiches with bacon and caramelized onions, even some seasonal ones with pumpkin or sweet potato… Stuff like that."

You sit back, letting the list of flavors settle in your mind, gears turning. You’d never considered offering savory tarts before—your bakery was known for its sweets. But maybe that was part of the problem. There was a whole side of the tart game you hadn’t even touched.

"You think you could make some of those flavors and bring them tomorrow?" you ask, your tone casual as you rest your chin in your hand.

Jihoon frowns deeper, confused, his head tilting to the side. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

You chew your lip for a second, glancing around your bakery, imagining it filled with the rich, hearty smells of savory tarts instead of the usual sugar and cream. "I was thinking maybe we could try something… an experiment," you say, eyes lighting up as you lean forward. "You bring the savory ones, I’ll sell them in the display, right alongside the sweet ones. See how people like them."

Jihoon blinks at you, processing your words, and for a moment, you see a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what you’re suggesting. "You… you wanna sell my grandma’s tarts here?"

You nod, the idea already snowballing in your mind. "Yeah, why not? People around here are crazy for the sweets, but maybe they’ve just never had the chance to try something savory. And you know I don’t do that kind of thing, so… it’d be different." You pause, watching his face, which is slowly starting to shift from confusion to something brighter. "We’ll call it a collab or something. Give them a taste of what your bakery used to offer."

His eyes light up, sparkling with excitement as the idea sinks in. The hesitation that was there before vanishes, replaced with genuine enthusiasm. "Really?" He leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the table. "You think… people would like them?"

"If they’re as good as you say they are," you grin, tapping your fingers on the table, "then yeah, I think they will."

Jihoon’s face softens, and for the first time tonight, a real smile spreads across his lips. It’s small at first, but there’s something genuine and almost childlike about it, like you just handed him a lifeline he wasn’t expecting. "They’re really, really good," he says earnestly, nodding. "My grandma used to get people coming back for them all the time. They were, like, her specialty."

"Then bring enough for tomorrow," you say, feeling a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite yourself. "We’ll put them out, see what happens. Maybe it’ll bring some of her old customers back."

He looks at you like you’ve just flipped the entire script on him. The guy who’d been tagging your bakery out of spite now suddenly has a shot at redemption, and it’s written all over his face. You can see the wheels turning in his head, his excitement barely contained.

"How many do you need?" he asks, voice filled with an eagerness you hadn’t seen in him before.

You pause, thinking for a second. "Start small—maybe a couple dozen to test the waters. If they sell out, we’ll know we’re onto something."

Jihoon nods rapidly, his excitement bubbling over. "I can do that. I can bring, like, the spinach and feta ones. Those were super popular. And maybe the mushroom ones too. People loved those." He’s rambling now, his hands gesturing wildly as he talks. "You think they’ll like them? I mean, people around here are kinda obsessed with sweet stuff, but these… these are different."

You laugh softly, watching him get more and more animated. "I think if they’re as good as you say, people are gonna be lining up for them. And who knows? Maybe savory tarts will be the next big thing."

Jihoon sits back, grinning like he can’t believe this is real. "I can’t believe you’re actually doing this." His eyes flicker over the bakery, taking in the pink and white décor, the polished countertops, the faint smell of sugar still lingering in the air. "I thought you’d just tell me to fuck off, honestly."

You shrug, smiling slightly. "Well, I did wanna hit you with a mop earlier. But… I don’t know. It seems like the least I can do after everything."

He stares at you, his grin softening into something more serious, more genuine. "Thanks," he says quietly, and you can tell that he means it. "I… I really judged you wrong."

You wave him off, but inside, there’s a warmth spreading, something that feels almost like… relief? Like maybe this little experiment could be more than just business—it could be a way to right some wrongs.

"Just bring your best game tomorrow," you say, standing up from the table. "If your grandma’s tarts are half as good as you say, I’m sure people will love them."

Jihoon stands too, still grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, they will. Trust me." His eyes sparkle with that confidence again, and for the first time, it feels like you’re seeing the real him, not the guy who’s been tagging your bakery out of anger.

As you walk him to the door, you glance back at the kitchen, already imagining the savory tarts lining the shelves next to your usual sweets. This could be something big, something new—something that might even help mend the bridge between you two.

Jihoon pauses at the door, turning back to you with a grin. "Tomorrow, then. You won’t regret this."

The next morning, Jihoon arrives at your bakery with a box, the warmth of the tarts and quiches radiating from inside. You grin as you lift the lid, the smellof the buttery crust wafting out. Carefully, you place them in the display, arranging them neatly beside your sweets.

Jihoon moves towards the door without saying a word, but before he can leave, you raise your voice, “Where are you going?”

He pauses and steps back in, bending down to pick up a bucket of paint remover and a brush from outside. “Gonna get rid of the mess,” he says with a shrug, shaking the supplies in his hand.

You scoff, leaning against the counter. “Looks like hitting you with the mop actually worked.” You raise an eyebrow, arms crossed.

He freezes, his eyes widening a little, like he just remembered something. “Hey! You!” he protests, gesturing to his back. “I’m my back its black and blue thanks to you! My back its ruined.”

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Serves you right,” you shoot back, and Jihoon huffs, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he heads outside to scrub off the tags.

As the morning rush starts, a couple of your regulars approach the counter, eyeing the new items. One of them, Mrs. Park, furrows her brow. "What’s all this?" she asks, nodding to the savory tarts.

You flash her a smile, "We’re doing a little collab with Jihoon’s family bakery. They used to sell these savory tarts, and we thought we'd give them a try here. You should taste them, they’re amazing."

Mrs. Park raises an eyebrow but picks up one of the tarts anyway. Within minutes, word spreads, and before you know it, the dozen savory tarts you put out are gone—people even leaving with extras for home. You lean against the counter, watching the buzz, satisfaction building in your chest.

As the rush dies down, you step outside where Jihoon is wiping down the wall, now tag-free. You smirk. "Sold everything," you say, watching his reaction.

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide. “Really?!”

You nod. “Yeah, they went faster than I thought. Even Mingyu couldn’t keep his hands off them,” you say, pointing through the window where Mingyu is, mid-bite, munching happily on a tart behind the counter.

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he looks at Mingyu, then back at you. "I’ve got more ready at my grandma’s place. I can go grab them now."

"Do it," you say with a grin, waving him off. “Bring a lot. I don’t think these’ll last long.”

An hour later, Jihoon returns, but this time he’s not alone. His grandma, the sweet old lady you remember from the bakery across the street, is with him. You light up when you see her.

"Mrs. Lee!" you greet her warmly.

She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she gives you a gentle hug. "You’ve done so well with this place," she says, looking around the bakery.

As you help unload the box of fresh tarts, you see Mingyu’s eyes widen as he watches you set them out again, his mouth practically watering. He reaches for one, but you swat his hand away.

"Those are to sell," you scold playfully, but before you can follow up, Mrs. Lee reaches up and pats Mingyu on the head.

"Eat, eat, you’re a big boy. You need it," she says, and Mingyu, towering over her, grins sheepishly as he lowers his head.

"Yes, ma’am," he says with a boyish smile, clearly charmed.

With the tarts restocked, the afternoon turns out to be just as busy as the morning. People are coming in and out, curious about the new savory options, and before you know it, they’re sold out again.

After the rush dies down and the shift ends, you pull out the cash notes, counting how much you’ve made for the day. You walk over to Jihoon, handing him a stack of money.

"Here, this is how much we sold, minus the cost of ingredients," you say, but Jihoon waves his hand, shaking his head.

"Nah, don’t do that," he says, clearly uncomfortable. "It’s your bakery. I’m just helping out."

You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms. "You think I’m not gonna pay you for your grandma’s recipes? Don’t be stupid."

He fidgets, glancing down. “I don’t deserve it,” he mumbles, but you cut him off.

"Come on. You think of reopening your grandma’s bakery again?"

He hesitates, then nods slowly. "I’ve been thinking about it. But there’s a lot to clean up, fix…"

You lean back, thinking for a moment. “Well, while you figure it out, how about you use my bakery to sell your savory stuff? We can split the profits and see how it goes. Maybe that way, you’ll get enough to fix it.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen, gratitude spreading across his face. "You… you’d let me do that?"

You shrug. "Why not? People love your stuff, and I’ve got space. Plus, this way, we both win."

His lips part, disbelief still etched on his face, but then his shoulders relax, and a small smile forms. "I don’t know what to say. Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet," you say, grinning. "We still gotta get through tomorrow."

He laughs, the tension that had been hanging between you since the whole graffiti incident finally easing. "I guess I’ll be back here early with more tarts, then."

"Bright and early," you reply, with a playful nod. "And don’t forget to bring your grandma too. Mingyu might cry if she doesn’t show up."

Jihoon chuckles, glancing at Mingyu who’s in the back, still wiping tart crumbs from his face. "I think you’re right about that."

As Jihoon and his grandma leave, you’re left standing in your bakery, the warm glow of the lights reflecting off the now pristine windows.

The next morning, Jihoon shows up right on time, his grandma’s small hand wrapped around his arm as they step into the bakery. There’s something heartwarming about the sight—the way she leans on him, and how he effortlessly balances the heavy box of tarts in his other hand. You catch a glimpse of the pure affection between them, the kind only grandparents seem to have for their grandkids, and it makes you feel... softer.

Jihoon flashes you a quick, almost shy smile as he sets the box on the counter, the warmth of the freshly baked tarts instantly filling the room. You move to help him, opening the glass case of the vitrine. As you lean in to arrange the tarts, his arm brushes against yours, just barely. It’s nothing, really—just a quick touch—but you bite back a smile anyway. The warmth of it, the quiet ease, feels nice. Comfortable.

Outside, the rain begins to pour, pattering against the windows. It's not the gloomy kind of rain, though—it’s the kind that makes people crave warm spaces, a place to settle into with a coffee in hand. Your bakery, with its soft yellow lighting and the sweet smell of tarts mingling in the air, feels like the perfect refuge. You can already see a few people huddling under umbrellas as they make their way inside, the little bell above the door chiming each time.

Jihoon steps back, his eyes following yours as you arrange the tarts in perfect rows. “Looks good,” he murmurs, glancing over at you.

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to sound casual, though your voice is a bit quieter than usual. You clear your throat. “Rain’s gonna bring people in. They’ll want something warm.”

Almost as if on cue, the door swings open with a gust of wet air, and your best friend stumbles inside, panting, her umbrella flung into the holder by the door. She shakes the rain off her coat and makes a beeline for the counter, eyes wide.

“I heard you’re selling savory tarts now,” she exclaims, nearly breathless.

You shoot her a look, half-amused. “Word spreads fast around here, hm?”

She leans on the counter, eyes scanning the new additions in the vitrine like she’s sizing them up. “You know me. I’ve got my ear to the ground,” she says, grinning. Her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who’s still standing behind you. “And you,” she says, her tone turning teasing, “finally decided to be useful, huh?”

Jihoon just rolls his eyes, but you can see a flicker of amusement there. “I’m useful in ways you don’t even know,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, but it makes you smirk.

Your friend raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure,” she quips, pulling out her wallet. “Alright, give me one of those tarts. Let’s see if they’re worth the hype.”

You grab a tart—spinach and cheese, her favorite—and hand it to her on a small plate. She takes one bite, her eyes widening dramatically. “Oh my god,” she says, mouth half full. “Okay, this… this is dangerous. You can’t sell these, I’ll be here every day.”

You laugh, watching her devour the tart. Jihoon leans against the counter next to you, arms crossed, a little smug. “Told you they were good,” he murmurs.

The steady rain outside only adds to the cozy vibe, making the bakery feel like a warm little haven. More customers trickle in, shaking off their umbrellas and ordering coffees to go with the new savory tarts. Some regulars ask about the new addition, and you tell them about the collaboration with Jihoon and his grandma. It’s casual, like you’re letting them in on a little secret, and soon enough, people are lining up to try them.

As you work, you can feel Jihoon’s presence behind you, quietly helping out where he can—refilling the display, wiping down tables, clearing plates. It’s kind of funny, actually. Not long ago, this same guy was spray-painting the walls of your bakery like a punk, and now here he is, setting tarts in your vitrine, his arm brushing against yours, acting like part of the team.

Your friend finishes her tart and slides the plate back toward you, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Okay, I gotta go before I eat the whole case,” she says, shooting you a wink. She glances at Jihoon as she grabs her umbrella. “You better keep bringing these, or we’ll have problems.”

Jihoon smirks, giving her a mock salute. “I’ll keep ‘em coming.”

As she leaves, you watch the bakery fill with warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of conversations. The rain taps against the windows, the outside world grey and wet, while the inside is alive with comfort. You lean against the counter, watching Jihoon’s grandma chatting with a customer. It’s kind of perfect, in a way—everything just falling into place.

After the lunch rush, Jihoon catches your eye, his expression a little sheepish. "They’re really selling, huh?"

You smile, a little proud. "Yeah. Told you they’d be a hit."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Guess I underestimated this place."

“It’s kinda nice having you around... even if you are a pain in the ass.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes but not disagreeing. “You just like bossing me around.”

“I do,” you admit with a grin. “And you’re getting pretty good at following orders.”

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he picks up a rag to wipe down the counter. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll bring more tomorrow."

The evening was quiet, just the hum of the fridge and the faint swoosh of the mop gliding across the floor. You were halfway through cleaning when your foot nudged something under the counter. Frowning, you crouched down and pulled out a box—heavy, clinking inside—and when you opened it, there they were. Paint cans.

You tilted your head, staring at them, then shouted, "Jihoon! What the hell is this?"

He popped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Uh... well, I was thinking... maybe the bakery could use a little—art,” he said hesitantly, his eyes darting from the cans to you.

"Art?" you raised an eyebrow, hands resting on your hips. "You're not gonna draw a dick on the front door, are you? 'Cause if that's your plan, Jihoon, I swear—"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No! It wasn’t me, alright? That was one of my friends.”

Your eyebrow shot up even higher. "So you had your friends tag my bakery too?"

He suppressed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I yelled sorry, like, a million times already.”

You shook your head, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Unbelievable.”

Jihoon stepped closer, eyes scanning your expression carefully. “Look, I promise—no dicks. I was thinking... something different. Something that matches the vibe here. I could paint something... that looks like you.” His gaze lingered on you, analyzing your features like he was already sketching you out in his mind.

You sat back, considering it. The idea of graffiti on your pristine bakery wasn’t exactly appealing, but there was something about Jihoon’s offer... the way he was looking at you, not like a cocky vandal but like someone who wanted to create something for you.

You frowned, arms crossed, skeptical. “You? Graffiti something that looks like me? You’re kidding.”

He shrugged, stepping back slightly. “Let me show you. I’ll do it on the back wall. Something pastel, something sweet—like your bakery.”

You huffed, but curiosity got the better of you. “Fine. But if it looks like shit, you’re cleaning it up, Jihoon.”

Outside, the air was crisp, and the dim lights of the street barely reached the back alley behind your bakery. Jihoon grabbed the cans, setting them down with a focused energy, his jaw tight. He was different when he worked on something—serious, quiet. You watched as he started to shake one of the cans, the metallic rattle filling the space.

He started to sweat after a few strokes of the spray, his arm flexing each time he pressed the nozzle. The light from the back door illuminated his face, and when he flicked his hair to the side, it reminded you of those boys from high school, the ones who all had that Justin Bieber haircut. You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

He stepped back, turning toward you, his eyes searching your face. “So... what do you think?”

You tilted your head, focusing on the paint. It was a pastel-colored slice of cake, detailed with delicate swirls and shadows that made it look almost real. “The... strawberry looks a little weird,” you pointed out, walking closer.

Jihoon let out a soft laugh, stepping aside. “Come help me then. You fix it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Me? I don’t know how to spray paint, Jihoon. It’s gonna look like a five-year-old did it."

He waved it off, walking toward you with the can in hand. “Nah, you can do it. C’mere.”

Before you could protest, he was already pulling you out of the chair, placing the can in your hand. “Just like this,” he murmured, stepping behind you. His chest pressed lightly against your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your ear. His hand moved to yours, guiding your fingers to press down on the nozzle, and the paint sprayed out in a clean line. "Here," he murmured, his voice low. "Press gently... just like that."

“See?” he whispered, his voice right in your ear, and you could feel the concentration in his breath, how calm it was. “Not so hard, is it?”

You were too aware of everything—his breath, his hand on yours, the way his body pressed just slightly against yours, not enough to feel too much, but enough to make your pulse pick up.

His hand, now on your waist, gave you the faintest squeeze, right where your skin showed between your top and your jeans, right where your shirt had ridden up a little. It was an absent touch, almost like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. But you did. His fingers were warm, the pressure light but there. Your breath caught in your throat for a second.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. His hand never moved, just stayed resting on your waist, a quiet but steady reminder of how close he was. The paint kept flowing, and you realized you were barely focused on the mural anymore. It was all Jihoon. The way his body moved with yours, the brush of his breath against your ear.

“Jihoon,” you whispered, voice low, just to see what kind of reaction you’d get. "You sure you're not just getting handsy with me to avoid doing the work?"

He huffed a small laugh, right in your ear, his breath warm. “You think this is me being handsy? I’m just trying to teach you something.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little more, just enough to feel him tense up. His hips were snug against yours, and you could feel the smallest reaction in his body, the way his chest rose sharply as you pressed back into him.

"Uh-huh,” you said, feigning innocence. “So that’s why you sound like you’re having the best time of your life right now? Not exactly subtle, Jihoon.”

He scoffed, his mouth so close to your ear that you flinched a bit. "Says the one who's shivering under my arm like I’m doing more than just helping you paint.”

You let out a soft chuckle, your head leaning back just a little, the movement making his face brush against your shoulder. You could feel his breath catch again as your body pressed back.

“Jihoon…” you said, voice dropping an octave. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying real hard not to moan in my ear.”

His breath hitched, and this time, you felt it. His body tensed, the can in his hand wavering slightly as he pressed the nozzle. He was trying—trying so damn hard to stay focused on the paint, but your words were getting to him. His grip tightened on the can.

He lowered your arm, stopping the spray of paint, and you could feel the tension crackling between you both. His hand lingered on yours for a moment, and then he turned his head slightly, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw as he whispered, “You keep teasing me like that, I’ll forget the painting and pin you to this wall.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the low rumble in his voice, letting your ass push against him again. You give him a slow, teasing smile, turning your head just enough to look at him out of the corner of your eye. “And if I told you I wouldn’t mind?”

Jihoon’s eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes, in a blink, he turned you around, the paint can clattering to the floor as his hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His lips hovered over yours for just a second, his breath mingling with yours, tension thick in the air. “You're playing with fire, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You smirked, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. “Then burn me.”

His lips crashed against yours in a starved kiss, his hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressed so close it felt like there wasn’t an inch between you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him down harder into the kiss, feeling the tension melt away from his shoulders. His hands roamed over your back, slipping under your shirt, his touch burning your skin as he kissed you deeper, rougher, like he couldn’t get enough.

His body pressed you against the wall, his hips fitting perfectly against yours, and you could feel his cock coming to life. The slight tremor in his hands as they roamed your sides, the way his breath hitched when you kissed him harder—it was all there, barely restrained.

His lips were warm, tasting faintly like the strawberries and honey from earlier, and every time you tried to pull back for air, he chased you, his lips crashing back against yours like he couldn’t stand the space between you for even a second.

Finally, when you both pulled away for breath, your foreheads resting together, you smirked, your breath still uneven. “You okay there, Jihoon? You look like you’re about to lose it.”

He chuckled, his hand still gripping your waist, but there was no humor in his eyes. “You talk too much,” he muttered, pulling you back in for another kiss before you could even think of another comeback.

You could feel the wetness of his tongue against yours, slick with saliva that started to pool at the corners of your mouth as you sucked it in deeper. Jihoon’s hand was firm, gripping the curve of your ass, his other arm wrapped tight around your waist as if he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

You stumbled backward in a tangle of steps, the two of you moving like you were magnetized to each other, lips fused together, completely unwilling to separate. His hand squeezed your ass hard, making you gasp into his mouth. That sound—the desperate little moan you couldn’t hold back—had him groaning too, swallowing the noise like it fueled him, pressing you harder against the door to the back of the store.

Jihoon fumbled for the handle, blindly opening it while keeping his mouth glued to yours. You barely noticed when he shoved you through the threshold, into the bakery’s quiet salon. He didn’t break the kiss, not even for a second, not until your back hit the counter and he pressed himself against you again, trapping you between him and the cold wood.

You were breathless, desperate to kiss him harder, to get more of those sweet, low moans he made when your lips connected just right. It wasn’t until you felt his hand slipping between you that you realized what he was doing. Somehow, in the heat of it all, he had already undone your jeans, his fingers deftly sliding the button free, his hand dipping lower, teasing the waistband of your panties.

"Fuck, Jihoon," you panted, head thrown back as his lips trailed along your jaw. You shivered when you felt his hand slipping under the lace, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin. You felt your sink boiling, the warm air from the bakery making you sweat down your neck.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, more like moaning.

The jeans you still had on were tight, too tight, and it made it impossible for you to spread your legs the way you wanted. The friction of his hand between you was good, but not nearly enough.

You shifted against him, trying to spread your legs wider, your breath coming out in frustrated little pants. "Jihoon," you managed, voice almost pleading, "jeans... get them off."

His lips curled into a smug grin against your skin, and you could feel him smirk before he pulled back slightly. "So bossy," he murmured, but he didn’t hesitate. His hands went straight to your jeans, tugging them down with quick, rough movements, the denim catching awkwardly on your thighs before he yanked them free.

With your jeans finally gone, he spread your legs wide, his eyes dark and hungry as they trailed over you. His hands gripped your thighs, positioning you exactly how he wanted before slipping his fingers right back under the waistband of your panties, but this time, there was no hesitation.

He slid one finger through your slick folds, groaning low when he felt how wet you were for him. "God, you're soaked," he breathed, almost like he was in disbelief. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles that had your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more.

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips. "Just... please, Jihoon—more."

He slid a finger inside you, the sensation making you gasp, your legs instinctively spreading wider for him. You wanted more of him, needed it, and when he curled his finger just right—not even forcing it, he felt the spongy spot, you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.

"Like that?" he whispered, voice hoarse as he added another finger, filling you up and making your whole body arch into him. His other hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady as he worked his fingers inside you, each thrust deeper, more insistent.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, barely able to form words as he sped up, his thumb still rubbing circles over your clit, making you see fireballs with closed eyes. "Just... just like that."

His hand moved faster, fingers curling and stroking deep inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the quiet room. Your hips bucked against him, chasing the sensation, wanting him to take you higher, needing him to push you over the edge.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, "I could do this all night... but I think you want me to make you come, don’t you?"

You whimpered. "Please, Jihoon," you breathed, voice shaky. "I need it."

His fingers quickened their pace, thrusting deep, hitting that spot over and over until your whole body trembled. He could feel how close you were, could see it in the way your thighs quivered, the way your breath came in short, desperate gasps.

"Cum for me," he murmured, thumb pressing harder against your clit, feeling the nerve throb as his fingers worked inside you. "Cum all over my fingers."

You rest your elbow on the counter, arching your back in a way that makes the slick sound between your thighs almost obscene. It’s impossible to ignore. You know exactly how wet you are, and palm, right there pressing down the mound of your pussy—god, you can feel it, burning hot. Your breath hitches, and you throw a hazy glance in his direction, catching his smirk, that cocky look on his face. His lip is trapped between his teeth, eyes dark and full of heat, and that’s all it takes before you come apart.

Your orgasm hits hard, ripping through you. Eyes squeezing shut, your body tenses, thighs trembling as your hips jerk involuntarily against his hand. You hear him coaxing you through it, his voice a low murmur, his fingers keeping steady pressure, coaxing every last wave of pleasure out of you.

“There you go… good fuckin' girl. Just like that, keep comin’ for me… shit, so fuckin’ good,” he mutters, fingers slowing just enough to keep you riding the high.

Your chest heaves, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as you slowly open your eyes again. He’s staring at you—taking in every inch of you. The smirk on his face hasn't faltered, only deepened. There’s something dangerous about the way he looks at you, like he's already planning his next move.

“You think you can turn around for me?” he asks.

You shake your head, still catching your breath, but a wicked grin spreads on your lips. “Nah. I’ll fall to my knees and suck you off instead.” Your voice is steady despite the way your legs still tremble. His eyes widen just for a second before he sharpens a breath, a harsh inhale that lets you know you’ve hit the right nerve.

You don’t give him time to respond before you’re on your knees, fingers already undoing his belt, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. You look up through your lashes, watching his jaw tighten as his cock springs free, already hard and leaking at the tip. His breathing’s heavy, uneven.

You run your tongue along his length slowly, collecting the sticky precum, teasing the underside before wrapping your lips around the head. He moans immediately, one hand gripping the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles turn white.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking forward as your lips slide further down his cock. The sound he makes is a whiny moan, almost of frustration as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. You can feel the pulse of him on your tongue, the way his body reacts to every little move you make.

He grips your hair, tugging gently as you bob your head, setting a slow rhythm that has him panting. His hips start to move, barely restrained, thrusting shallowly into your mouth. “Goddamn… ngh—fuck! From hittin’ me with a mop to this?” His voice cracks on a laugh, but it’s breathless, shaky. “Didn’t think you’d… suck me off like this…”

You pull back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, lips slick, before looking up at him, smirking. “Better than the mop, right?”

His laugh turns into a groan, the sound vibrating through his chest as you take him deep again. “Fuck yeah… way better than the fuckin' mop.” He’s losing his composure now, hips moving a little more desperately, the hand in your hair tightening, guiding you as you work him harder, faster.

His moans grow louder, less restrained, and you can feel the tension building in his body, the way his muscles tighten as he gets closer. You hollow your cheeks one last time, sucking him in deeper, tongue working every inch of him until you hear him curse under his breath, his head falling back as his body shudders.

“Shit—” His moan is drawn out, almost too much for him to handle, as he loses himself in your mouth, his hips bucking forward uncontrollably. You keep going, pushing him right to the edge, savoring every last sound he makes until he finally pulls you off, breathless and wrecked.

“Fuck... you’re gonna kill me with that pretty mouth,” he pants, grinning down at you, still catching his breath.

You pull back for a second, lips slick with spit, catching your breath before you go back in, this time with a wicked grin. His cock twitches in your hand as you stroke him slowly, teasing, just enough to keep him on the edge.

“So…” you start, voice low, looking up at him with a dangerous gleam in your eyes. “How are you gonna fuck me, huh? Gonna be good to me, or…” You drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft, making him gasp before taking him back into your mouth, sucking harder, wanting to hear him stutter. “… or you gonna fuck me like you mean it?”

His breath hitches, and he swears under his breath. “I—fuck, I—” His hips jerking toward your mouth, but he’s not quite there. The pressure is building, you can feel it, the way his muscles tense, the way his grip in your hair tightens.

But before you can push him too far, he suddenly pulls you off with a gasp, his cock red and leaking at the tip, his body shaking from the almost-orgasm. “Stop, stop, fuck—”

You raise an eyebrow, lips swollen as you sit back on your heels, panting, teasing. “Could’ve just let me finish you off,” you murmur, licking your lips slowly as you watch him struggle to catch his breath.

He grins, though his expression is tight, like he’s holding onto control by a thread. “Not gonna let you win that easy,” he mutters. He helps you up, hands firm but delicate as he lifts you to your feet. Your knees wobble a little from the discomfort of kneeling on the hard wooden floor, and he notices, his thumb brushing gently across the soft skin.

“They hurt?” he asks, glancing down at your knees, frowning just a little.

You shake your head, smirking. “I’ll live. But you owe me a good fuck for that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna make it up to you.”

You let him guide you back against the counter, his hands already sliding down to the waistband of your panties, hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling them down tossing it on the floor. He pauses just for a second, eyes flicking between your bare pussy and your face, his breathing heavy.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Gonna make you scream.”

You shiver, feeling his cock press against your thigh as his hands move to grip your waist. His fingers are rough, impatient. You can barely think straight when he turns you around, pushing your chest flat against the cold countertop. The contrast of the cool surface and his hot skin makes your breath hitch, your body already aching for him.

He groans softly, positioning himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along your slick folds as you grind back against him, impatient.

“Fuck—please, just—” You barely get the words out before he thrusts into you, filling you up completely in one swift movement. The stretch is intense, but it’s exactly what you needed, the delicious burn making you gasp as your fingers dig into the counter.

He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls back and thrusts again, setting a relentless pace. “That good enough for you, hm?”

You can barely answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are desperate moans as he fucks into you, hard and fast, just like he promised. “F-fuck, Jihoon… yes—just like that.”

He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his lips brush your ear. “You feel so fuckin’ good… so tight, fuck.”

Your body trembles under his, the pleasure building so quickly that you can barely keep up. "Jihoon—" His name leaves your lips in a broken moan as you start to lose control.

Your breath is ragged, chest heaving as you lick your fingers, letting them trail down your slick body. The moment your fingers find your clit, Jihoon freezes. His cock still buried deep inside you, but it’s like he's hypnotized by the way you touch yourself. You know he’s watching, eyes dark with hunger as you start to circle your clit, finding that perfect rhythm that makes your legs weak. There’s something so intoxicating about him just watching you, letting you take control of your own pleasure while he stays inside, keeping you full.

"Fuck, that’s hot," he mutters, his voice husky and rough as he leans over you, his lips grazing your ear. "You look so fucking good like this."

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, his words fueling the fire burning low in your belly. Your mind flashes back to everything between you two, from the first time he tagged your bakery walls, scowling like you were the enemy, graffiti cans in his bag, the way he barely looked at you when he spoke.

Now look at him, look at you—sweat-slicked bodies moving together, his fingers pulling your hair. The teasing exchanges that turned into this—tangled limbs in the very place you swore you'd kill him if he ever touched. Now, all you can think about is how good he feels inside you, how much you crave more.

His hips start to move again, slow, smooth rolls that make your whole body tingle, but he keeps his hands steady on your hips, letting you keep that perfect rhythm on your clit. The sound of your wet fingers moving in time with his thrusts fills the room, and it’s obscene, but fuck, it’s so good.

“What do you want me to do?” he murmurs against your ear, his voice vibrating through you, sending shivers down your spine.

God. Hot. So fucking hot.

You could ask for anything. Him fucking you against every surface in the bakery, bending you over the counter, the tables, hell, maybe even hanging from the goddamn chandelier if it were possible. But right now, with the way his cock fills you and your fingers work your clit, you only want one thing.

“Pull my hair.”

His hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, and he gives it a firm tug. The sharp pleasure shoots you, and your body arches against him, hips pressing back to meet his next thrust. The way body rollsl, smooth, matches the pace you’ve set with your fingers. It’s perfect, it’s so fucking good.

His hips snap against you harder now, and you can feel his restraint slipping. He’s getting close, the way his moans get rougher, the way he’s tugging your hair a little more desperately. You know he’s just as on edge as you are.

“Jihoon…”

He moans sly. He knows exactly what he's doing to you.

You hum, breathless. Something so ridiculous comes to mind, and you can’t believe you’re going to say it, but fuck it.

“Can you… paint me?” You’re not sure where the words come from, but once they’re out, you can’t help but smirk.

He hesitates for a second, his hips stuttering before he recovers. “What?”

You bite your lip, half-laughing through your moans. “You heard me. Paint me. Grafitti me. Whatever. Do it.”

He’s still chuckling, his chest pressed against your back as he slows down, but you can feel the horniness in the way his cock twitches inside you. He is very into it. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

You laugh, but it’s breathless. “You’ve been tagging my bakery for weeks. Might as well make it official.”

He groans, biting his lip as he slides out of you for a moment, leaving you feeling suddenly empty, needy. You turn your head, watching as he reaches for one of the paint cans you knocked over earlier, shaking it a few times. The sound of the metal ball rattling inside echoes through the small space, making your heart race faster.

“You sure about this?” he asks, but there’s a grin on his face, his cock still hard and wet, glistening in the dim light.

You arch your back, pushing your ass out toward him, wiggling a little for good measure. “You scared?”

He shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip. “Not even a little.”

Then, with one hand steady on your lower back, he leans in, the cold metal of the spray can grazing your skin. You hear the hiss of the paint as he presses down on the nozzle, feeling the cold spray hit your skin. It’s not the same as the heat between your legs, but it sends a thrill through your body nonetheless.

“Hold still,” he mutters, focused, but you can hear the grin in his voice. He’s enjoying this—maybe a little too much.

You laugh, a shaky sound as the paint settles on your skin, the smell of it filling the room. “What are you even writing?”

“You’ll see,” he says, voice teasing. The spray continues, and then, after a moment, he steps back. “There. Perfect.”

When he’s done, he pulls you back onto his cock all in once, making you gasp as the pleasure returns full force. “Red suits you,” he says, his voice whiny. You can feel his eyes on you, taking in the sight of you painted, fucked, completely his in this moment.

You look over your shoulder at him, breathless. “What did you write?”

He smirks, thrusting hard enough to make you cry out. “My name,” he says simply. “Right across your ass.”

The sound that leaves your throat is half-laugh, half-moan. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but you can’t deny how fucking hot it is, the thought of his name on you, like a claim.

He watches the paint dry quickly, the faint sheen of it on your skin as you move against him. The thought of cleaning it off flickers in his mind, but fuck, the idea of you walking around with his name stamped across your ass, hidden inside your jeans as you go about your day—a part of him wants it permanent, a tattoo maybe, to mark you in a way no one else could see but him. His. Completely.

His hand slides up your body, fingers sneaking under your shirt and bra until they’re squeezing your tit, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you yelp and splatter your hand onto the counter for balance. Your legs are shaking as his thrusts get rougher, messier, the slick sound of him filling you echoing in the quiet bakery.

You moan out his name, “Jihoonie…” and he fucking loses it. Every time you call him that, it gets to him. The way you say it, needy and teasing, like it was meant to wreck him.

He grunts in response, pulling your hair again to tilt your head back against his chest. Your eyes roll, pleasure coursing through you like fire, and your pussy clenches tight around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

You try to hold yourself up, but your legs are jelly, barely able to stand. “I’m gonna… fuck, Jihoon,” you gasp, your body trembling. You’re on the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly, ready to snap at any second.

He pulls you back harder, his chest flush against your back, his mouth right at your ear as he growls, “Cum for me, baby. Fuckin’ do it. I wanna feel you.”

His words, the rough sound of his voice, the way he’s completely owning you—it pushes you over the edge. You shatter around him, your body convulsing as your orgasm slams into you. Your pussy clenches tight, milking his cock, and you scream his name, your voice echoing through the empty bakery.

He groans deep in his chest, thrusting through your orgasm, chasing his own orgasm. The way you squeeze him, the way you moan and tremble in his arms, it’s too much. He pulls out at the last second, just barely, his hand jerking his cock as he cums, thick ropes spilling onto your ass, painting over his name in red.

You’re a mess, both of you—paint, cum, sweat sticking to your skin—but you can’t bring yourself to care.

His hand slides gently down your back, soothing the tremors that still ripple through your body. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice still shaky. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, completely different from how rough he was just moments ago.

You breathe out a laugh, still catching your breath. “Think we’re gonna need more than a mop to clean this up.”

Jihoon chuckles, pulling back slightly to admire the mess he made. “Yeah,” he says, “But I gotta say… seeing you with my name on your ass? Kinda want it permanent.”

You tilt your head back to look at him, a lazy smirk on your lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His smirk matches yours as he tugs you closer, his hands still resting on your hips. “Maybe,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours. “Maybe more than I should.”

Jihoon sulks, his face twisted in irritation as he presses the paper towel against your ass, muttering under his breath about how he ruined it. You can hear him grumbling, the cum smudging the once-clear letters of his graffiti like some kind of art project gone wrong. He’s so focused on trying to clean it up, but all he’s doing is making a bigger mess, the red paint mixing with the white streaks, swirling into a chaotic, almost laughable design.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. The whole situation is just too ridiculous—the great Woozi, all serious and brooding, now pouting like a kid who messed up his school project. You rest your arms on the counter, the cool surface grounding you after everything, and glance over your shoulder, still half-naked from the waist down, shaking your head.

“Hey,” you snicker, pushing up onto the counter, bare skin still tingling from what just went down, “come on, take a picture for me.”

He glances up, narrowing his eyes in that grumpy way of his, but he’s not about to argue. With a sigh, he reaches out to take your phone, swiping it from your hand like it was a burden. He shakes his head, but there's the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, waiting as he squats a little to get the right angle. His breath is still slightly ragged, cheeks flushed pink, but he’s focused now, swiping a thumb across the screen before lifting the phone to snap a pic. You hear the click, followed by his low mutter. “Fuckin’ smudged.”

“Let me see,” you laugh, reaching out for the phone. He hands it over with a huff, standing there, arms crossed, while you inspect the damage.

There it is. Bold, bright red, smeared all over your ass. “Woozi,” right there in the middle, smudged but still totally readable. The first “W” is clear, but by the time you get to the “zi,” it’s a messy blur of paint and cum, like he tried to rush through it at the end. You burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty bakery.

“Woozi?” you choke out between laughs, glancing up at him. “You really went with that?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, cheeks burning a bit now. “What? It’s better than my actual name, isn’t it?”

You squint at the screen again, biting your lip to stop the next wave of laughter from spilling out. The smudge really does make it funnier. It's like his little alter ego tried to make a grand appearance but ended up getting dragged through a mess of his own creation.

“Woozi,” you repeat, grinning as you shake your head. “So now I’m walking around with your vandal name on my ass?”

He shrugs, still pretending to sulk, though you can see he’s fighting back a smile too. “Thought it’d be… symbolic or something. Besides, no one’s gonna know what it says. It’s all smudged now.”

“Oh, they’ll know,” you tease, lifting the phone to show him the picture again. “It’s clear enough, trust me. Woozi’s gonna be famous for something else entirely after this.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, great. Exactly what I need. My name on your ass, and you showing it off to the world.”

“Not showing it off to the world,” you smirk, leaning back on the counter. “Just, you know, keeping it for personal reasons.” You give him a cheeky look, watching as his eyebrows raise in mild curiosity.

Jihoon moves closer, sliding his hands over your hips again, thumbs brushing the sides of your thighs. “Personal reasons, hm?”

“Yup,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. “Might just stare at it whenever I need a good laugh. Or maybe when I need to remember how well you… fuck.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes again, but there’s a smirk pulling at his lips now. “You’re real funny, you know that?”

You nod, still grinning like an idiot. “Yeah, but you love it.”

“Mm,” he hums, stepping even closer, so close that your legs naturally part to let him stand between them. “Love it, huh?”

You raise a brow, tilting your head. “Yeah, love it. You, though?” You press your palms to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt just a bit. “You’re sulking because you didn’t get the masterpiece you wanted.”

His hands grip your waist, and he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’m not sulking,” he whispers, voice dripping with faux irritation. “I just didn’t expect my art to get ruined by…” He pauses, pulling back slightly to give you a teasing look. “…circumstances.”

You snort. “Circumstances? Jihoon, you came on it.”

He tries to hold back a laugh, but it slips out anyway, his chest vibrating against your hands. “Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly help the situation. You’re the one who—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if he’s trying to erase the memory of what just happened.

You grin, tugging him even closer by his shirt. “Say it. I’m the one who what?”

He chuckles. “You’re the one who kept calling me ‘Jihoonie’ like you were trying to kill me.”

“Oh, that’s on me?” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. “You loved it, don’t even lie.”

“I did baby girl, I did.”

You hold on to him, tired from working the whole day and from… fucking in the workplace too.

“But don’t think this makes us even. You still hit me with that damn mop.”

The next few days were nothing short of chaos—an exhilarating rush of sweet and savory tarts flying off the shelves, and new recipes you and Mrs. Lee concocted together, bringing fresh buzz to the bakery. The scent of freshly baked goods filled the air every morning, pulling in crowds, while the constant hum of the oven working overtime had become your new normal.

One morning, Jihoon arrives early, the sun barely peeking over the rooftops, casting a soft golden hue over the quiet streets. He strolls in, wiping the sleep from his eyes, hair a little mussed but looking determined to work.

As soon as he steps inside, he spots you standing near the counter with Mingyu. You're talking animatedly, your hands gesturing as Mingyu grins at something you said. His big frame blocks most of your view, so Jihoon immediately veers toward the vitrines to see how the tarts are doing. He doesn’t want to interrupt whatever you’re saying to Mingyu, but he's definitely curious.

He gets to the counter and freezes. The vitrines… they’re empty. Not a single tart left. Not even the little label card for the savory tarts, the one that proudly displayed the flavors he’d worked so hard to perfect.

His brows furrow, and he turns to you, half in disbelief. “Hey, where’s all the savory tarts?” he asks, trying not to sound like he’s panicking a little.

You and Mingyu exchange a quick glance before you turn to Jihoon, biting back a smirk. “Oh, yeah... about that,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “We had to stop selling them here.”

Jihoon blinks, caught off guard. “What?” He steps closer, eyebrows knitting together. “Stop selling them? What are you talking about?”

You sigh dramatically, playing it up. “They were just taking up too much space, you know? Not enough room for the sweets and everything else. Figured we’d move on to other things.”

Jihoon stares at you, his eyes flicking between your face and the empty case. You can see the gears turning in his head, confusion, then frustration. “But… they were selling well. Why would you—?”

Mingyu pipes up, poorly holding back a laugh. “Yeah, dude, it was wild. People just stopped caring about them, I guess.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “No way. They were doing so well just yesterday—” He stops, eyes narrowing at Mingyu's grin. Then he looks back at you, finally sensing something’s up. “Wait… what’s going on?”

You can’t help it. The corners of your lips twitch, and then you crack, bursting into laughter. “Come on, Jihoon. Just follow me.”

He follows you, still a little skeptical, his pace hurried as he tries to keep up with your sudden excitement. When you lead him out of the main bakery, his confusion only grows. You guide him around the corner to a neighboring shop space you’d kept quiet about.

Jihoon stops dead in his tracks the moment he sees the sign hanging above the door: Lee’s Tarts. His eyes go wide, scanning the large windows where people are already lined up outside, some chatting excitedly while others peek through the glass to get a look at the new place. And right inside, behind the counter, Mrs. Lee is standing tall, her hands expertly working as she serves up savory tarts to eager customers. The place is buzzing, the line practically spilling out onto the street.

“What the hell...” Jihoon mutters, blinking in disbelief.

You nudge his arm playfully. “Surprise.”

He turns to look at you, his expression still caught in shock. “You opened a shop?”

“Well, technically, Mrs. Lee opened the shop,” you grin. “I just helped.”

Jihoon shakes his head, still processing. “This… this is for her?”

“Yeah, for both of you,” you say, folding your arms, satisfied with the look on his face. “Your tarts were way too good to just stay in one little display case. Now they’ve got their own home.”

Then, without warning, he turns to you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Holy shit,” he mutters into your hair, squeezing you so hard it almost knocks the wind out of you. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling warmly, something that you rarely see from him.

“You deserve it, Jihoon. It was all you.”

His lips curl into that soft, genuine smile that’s rare but so worth it when you see it. “Guess we’re gonna be pretty busy, huh?”

“Guess so,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Better get used to it, Woozi.”

You and Mingyu handle the morning crowd in your bakery, but every now and then, you steal glances through the window at the new Lee’s Savory Tart shop next door. The line of people doesn’t seem to stop; every time you look, it’s like there are more. Jihoon’s name is already making waves, and it’s only been a few hours since the doors opened.

Someone at the counter clears their throat, and you turn back, wiping your hands on your apron. A woman leans over the display case, eyes scanning the rows of sweets. “Hey, don’t you have those savory tarts? The ones with the spinach and cheese?”

You nod, smiling. “Not here anymore, actually. We’ve got something even better now.” You motion with your thumb toward the window. “Just next door. The savory tarts have their own shop now, Lee’s Tarts. You’ll find all the flavors there—probably even a few new ones.”

The woman’s eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh! I didn’t know they moved! I was looking forward to trying them again.”

Mingyu, wiping down the counter behind you, pipes in with a grin, “Yeah, you’re gonna want to head over there before the line gets longer. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

The woman glances outside, spots the line, and her face shifts to one of mild panic. “Oh god, it’s already long.”

You chuckle. “Better get in there while you can. They’re selling out fast.”

She nods quickly, a little flustered, and rushes out the door, making a beeline for the shop next door. As the door closes behind her, you share a look with Mingyu. He’s smirking, arms crossed, leaning casually against the counter like he owns the place.

“You’re really sending our customers away like that, huh?” he teases, shaking his head. “What are we gonna do when everyone’s over there?”

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh please, you know people will still come for the sweets. Besides, Jihoon’s shop is practically ours. Same team, right?”

Mingyu grins wider. “Yeah, I guess. But damn, the guy’s getting popular fast. Never thought I'd see the day where Jihoon had groupies for tarts.”

You laugh, glancing out the window again, and sure enough, more people are queuing up outside the Lee’s Tarts storefront. “I know, right? It’s kinda surreal.”

Another customer steps up to the counter, a man in a suit, adjusting his tie as he peers at the empty spot where the savory tarts used to sit. “Excuse me, do you still have those mushroom and leek tarts?”

You shake your head, smiling.

[...]

You lean against the counter, crossing your arms and watching through the glass again. There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing people excited for Jihoon’s tarts—almost like watching a small victory unfold before your eyes. It’s hard not to feel proud.

Mingyu glances at you, brow quirked. “You think he knows how big this is yet?”

You shrug, still watching the customers flow in and out of the shop next door. “Maybe. He’s probably too busy to even think about it right now.”

Mingyu snorts, pushing off the counter. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope he doesn’t get all cocky now that he’s got his own place.”

You smile softly, shaking your head. “Nah. That’s not him. If anything, he’s probably stressing about making sure everything’s perfect.”

As if on cue, the door to the bakery next door opens, and Jihoon steps out for a quick breath of air. He’s in his apron, hair falling into his eyes, looking a little sweaty but in control.

He glances over to your shop and catches your eye through the window. For a second, his expression softens, and he gives you a small, appreciative nod.

You wave back, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. Then, before he can get too sentimental, he’s back inside, ready to tackle the next wave of customers.

As the day wears on, the steady flow of customers in both shops never really stops. You keep handling the orders, but every once in a while, someone comes in asking for the savory tarts, and you point them next door, grinning every time at how fast Jihoon’s new shop is becoming the talk of the town.

By the end of the day, when the last customer has left and the door finally swings closed, you take a deep breath, leaning against the counter, watching the lights flicker off in Lee’s Tarts through the window. Jihoon steps out again, this time wiping his hands on his apron as he locks up for the night.

He crosses the sidewalk and steps into your bakery, looking utterly exhausted but somehow content. “Busy day?”

You smile. “You could say that. You?”

Jihoon lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Never thought tarts could be this stressful.”

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist in a brief hug. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with it now.”

He smiles down at you, that soft look back in his eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss—quick and sweet this time, just a little stolen moment before the work starts all over again tomorrow.

From behind the counter, Mingyu makes a gagging sound, dramatically covering his eyes. “God, you two are disgusting.”

As you roll your eyes, Jihoon leans in close, his lips brushing your ear with a low murmur. “Maybe we should celebrate... you know, properly. You, me, that freaky side you try to keep in check—let’s see if I survive tonight.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, a smirk pulling at the corner of your lips. “Is that a challenge, Jihoon?”

He chuckles, breath hot against your skin, his hand squeezing your hip suggestively. “Only if you’re up for it. I might not walk straight after, but I’m willing to take that risk.”

[...]

The next thing you know, you're in a motel room, Jihoon having insisted that the best way to celebrate was somewhere far away from work, where neither of you had to think about baking for once.

You’re on top of him, straddling his hips, thighs caging him, riding him so hard it’s like you’ve forgotten how to go slow. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard knocking softly against the wall with every thrust, but all you can hear is Jihoon’s moans—loud and desperate.

His pale skin is already flushed pink, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Fuck... you're gonna break me," he gasps out, voice strained, eyes half-lidded and desperate. His head falls back against the pillow as you ride him harder, his lips parted in a silent moan. "I can't... shit, you're too good."

You lean down, your hair falling around your faces, your lips brushing his ear as you tease, “You’re not tapping out already, are you?”

His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his hands slipping down to grip your ass, trying to hold you still for a moment, but you don’t let him. You push back against him, harder, faster, and his groan rips through the small motel room. “Fuck, I’m serious... gonna fucking break...”

“You’re the one who wanted to celebrate, remember?” You dig your nails into his shoulders, moving with an intentional grinding roll of your hips, making you two shiver at the same time. "Now take it."

He almost sobs at that, his hands tightening on your waist, his head falling back as his hips buck up into you. The noises spilling from him—those choked-off moans and heavy breaths—made your lower belly boil, making you even bolder. You grind down, angling just right, and Jihoon lets out a sound that's more a whimper than anything.

You bite your lip, holding back a laugh as you grind down harder, feeling his cock twitch inside you. “Look at you. Jihoonie, you're so fucked out. What was that about me breaking you?”

He groans loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands grip your thighs tighter, knuckles white from the pressure. “Shit—”

You lean down, your mouth brushing against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper. “Maybe you’ll survive if you’re lucky.”

That’s all it takes for Jihoon to melt completely. His hands slide down your body, clenching desperately as his entire body tenses beneath you. His hips stutter, a long, ragged moan tearing from his throat as he finally cums, body trembling as he cums hard, buried deep inside you.

For a moment, you just let him ride it out, watching the way his chest heaves, eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss, his body still twitching from the orgasm. You slow your movements, giving him time to catch his breath.

When he finally opens his eyes again, they’re hazy, half-lidded with exhaustion. He looks up at you like you’ve completely destroyed him, which, to be fair, you kind of have.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “You really are going to break me.”

You smile, leaning down to kiss him softly on the lips, your hips still gently rocking against his. “Can’t break my Jihoonie.”

He covers his face, whimpering, cheeks flushing up as if they couldnt get more red.

“If you call me that again, I'll paint your face.”

“At least it's not my bakery.”

[...]

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching through the window as Jihoon crouched outside, focused, the spray can in his hand hissing with each stroke of paint. The tart he was working on looked almost surreal—like it could pop right out of the wall, the pastry perfectly golden, the filling a burst of deep reds and oranges, with olives vibrantly on top. It was almost too pretty for a bakery wall, but it was Jihoon, and somehow, it worked.

"You're staring again," Mingyu's voice broke through your thoughts, and you barely turned your head as he leaned against the counter beside you, his stupid teasing grin stretching across his face.

“Shut up, i'm not,” you muttered, but even you could hear the weakness in your voice. Your eyes stayed glued to Jihoon, his hands moving quickly, confidently, as he added more details to the tart. a few people stopped to admire it, heads turning as they passed by, and you could see them whispering to each other, clearly impressed. he really was talented.

“Uh-huh," Mingyu’s voice showing that he was doubting everything you say, “You know, if you’re gonna stand there drooling, you might as well just go out there and sit on his lap while he paints.”

You shot him a glare, cheeks heating up. “Mingyu, fuck off.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh come on, just admit it. You’ve been staring at him all week. It’s obvious. The way you look at him? Please.”

You bit your lip, eyes sliding back to Jihoon outside. He had stood up now, switching cans, his fingers stained with vibrant shades of pink and yellow. There was something about watching him work, about how focused he got—His brows furrowed, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he leaned in close to get the details just right.

And, god, after yesterday when he finished the cake on the front of your shop… you were pretty much done for. You hadn’t even realized how long you'd been staring until he'd caught your eye, giving you that little smirk that made your stomach flip. And yeah, the way he insisted on going around the whole damn city to find the perfect pastel colors to match your aesthetic? It was sweet. Way sweeter than you wanted to admit.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, waiting, and you let out a long, frustrated sigh, finally caving. “Fine. okay, Yes. I fucking like him. Happy now?”

His eyes widened in mock surprise, but he was clearly pleased with himself. “Oh my god, really? Who would’ve guessed?”

“Oh, shut up,” you sulked, crossing your arms tighter across your chest and turning your gaze back to Jihoon, who was now adding some final touches to the tart's crust. The sunlight hit him just right, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw, the veins in his forearms as he shook the can. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was annoyed as hell with him, and then… Yeah. Here we are.”

Mingyu chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of this. “I think it was when he convinced you to let him spray that cake on your wall. You looked like you were about to strangle him, but then you didn’t. You just stared at him like he’d hung the moon or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, well… I guess it was kinda cute. He really went all out with that cake. You know he circled the whole damn city for those colors?”

“Yeah, he told me,” Mingyu said, smirking. “And now look at you, all whipped for him.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair, trying to push down the feelings that were bubbling up again. “God, why am I even telling you this? I don’t need you making it worse.”

ou sighed, glancing out the window one more time, watching Jihoon wipe his hands on his jeans, the drawing complete. He took a step back, admiring his work, and for a second, he glanced your way, catching your eye. He raised his hand in a casual wave, a soft smile playing on his lips. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned away, feeling like you’d been caught.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.” You groaned, pushing past Mingyu to head back behind the counter. “Whatever. You’re just jealous he didn’t paint something for your store.”

Mingyu’s laughter followed you as you walked away, but as you leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, you found yourself glancing back out the window, one last time. There was no denying it anymore. You were definitely into him—his art, his focus, the way he just fit into your world without even trying.

You let out a small sigh, content, but your peaceful moment was interrupted when the door swung open hard enough to make the bell jingle a little too loudly. A group of boys walked in, street-worn and loud, carrying backpacks that were half-open, revealing cans of spray paint inside. A couple of them had skates hanging off their shoulders, and their clothes were loose, baggy, clearly not from around here—or at least, not part of the usual clientele.

You blinked, taking in the sight of them as they strolled in like they owned the place, heads bobbing to whatever beat they had going in their heads. One of them, tall with a beanie pulled low over his eyes, spotted you behind the counter and immediately grinned. “Yo, is this the spot where Jihoon’s lil' girlfriend works?”

You froze, mid-wipe, blinking silently at the question. Girlfriend? Lil’ girlfriend? Your face flushed, and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. You quickly tried to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Uh... I don’t—what?”

The guy chuckled, his crew falling in behind him, all of them eyeing the bakery like it was some kind of alien planet. “Nah, nah, don’t play like that. We know. Jihoon said his girl runs this bakery. This is it, right?”

One of the other boys, wearing a hoodie that was about three sizes too big, pointed to the display case, leaning over the counter a bit. “Damn, y’all got those fancy-ass tarts here. Hey, you think we could get a discount? You know, 'cause we know your man and all.”

You blinked again, gulping, still processing the whole “girlfriend” thing. Flour clung to your apron and dusted your arms, and you suddenly felt a little out of place, standing there dirty from baking while these guys—who clearly rolled with Jihoon—looked way too comfortable.

“You, uh, want some tarts?” you asked, trying to change the subject, wiping your hands on your apron.

The beanie guy grinned again, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll take some. Heard you got some sweet shit in here. Hook us up, Jihoon’s girl.”

You cringed at the nickname but forced a smile, grabbing a few plates and serving up some of the sweet tarts you had left. They all watched you work, curiosity in their eyes, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched watched.

As you handed them their plates, another one of the boys spoke up. “Damn, I thought bakers were like... supposed to be all old and shit. You’re cute, though.”

You almost dropped the plate. “Thanks,” you muttered, cheeks turning pink as you slid the tart towards them. “Enjoy.”

“Yo, speak of the devil,” one of them interrupted, nodding toward the door as it swung open. You turned around, relieved, and there was Jihoon—sweaty, paint splattered across his arms and hands, still holding a spray can. He froze for a second, taking in the scene, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his crew huddled around the counter.

“The fuck you guys doin’ here?” Jihoon grumbled, walking in with that same grumpy look he always wore when he was caught off guard.

You could see Jihoon’s jaw clench as he approached the counter, shaking his head. “She’s not—why the fuck are you even here?”

Another one chimed in, chuckling. “We just wanted to see the spot, man! Heard it was dope.”

Jihoon stepped up next to you, placing a hand on your lower back in a subtle, protective gesture. “Get outta here, you dumbasses. This isn’t a playground.”

“Bro, why didn’t you tell us she makes shit this good?”

Jihoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked up to the counter. “They’re not here to cause trouble, are they?” he asked, giving you a look that was half-apologetic, half-amused.

“They’re just hungry,” you said, shaking your head, trying not to laugh at how out of place they all looked in your pastel-colored bakery. “Let them eat. I think they like the tarts.”

“They’re pretty good, right?” you teased, handing Jihoon a tart too.

One of the guys pointed his finger between you and Jihoon, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Man, your kids are gonna be so well-fed. Tarts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!”

Jihoon almost choked on his tart, coughing as he shot the guy a glare. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no denying the redness creeping up his neck.

You burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation too much to handle. “You really bring these guys everywhere, huh?”

Jihoon shook his head, embarrassed but smiling too. “I didn’t bring ‘em. They follow me like strays.”

One of the guys grinned, shoving another tart into his mouth. “Hell yeah, we do. And we gonna keep comin’ back if these tarts are free.”

You gave Jihoon a look, shaking your head with a laugh. “Let ‘em eat. They’re harmless… mostly.”

“That one,” Jihoon said, jabbing his thumb toward the high guy. “He’s the asshole who drew the giant cock on your wall.”

Your eyes widened, immediately zeroing in on the guy who was now trying to pretend he wasn’t the subject of conversation. He suddenly found the tarts very interesting, stuffing another one into his mouth to avoid your glare.

“No way,” you deadpanned, your voice dripping with disbelief. “You did that?”

The guy, mouth still full of tart, shrugged sheepishly. “Uh, it was… kinda funny though, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Oh, hilarious,” you said, your voice thick with sarcasm. “Do you know how many old ladies came in here and gave me looks?”

He swallowed hard, looking around at his friends for backup, but they all just laughed, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting called out. “I, uh… I’ll clean it up?” he offered, scratching the back of his head.

Jihoon snorted, shaking his head. “Too late for that, man. She already scrubbed it off.”

You shot Jihoon a look. “I scrubbed it off. With bleach. In the middle of a freakin’ heatwave.”

The guy looked genuinely guilty for a second, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “My bad, yo. Didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal…”

Jihoon laughed under his breath, clearly amused by the whole situation. “You owe her, dude.”

The guy shrugged again, looking at you with a half-apologetic, half-amused grin. “Aight, aight. My bad, lil’ bakery girl. I’ll make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, you better,” you teased.

“We’re definitely talking about the ‘girlfriend’ thing later.” Jihoon gave you a squeeze on your ass behind the counter, where nobody could see it.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him, not missing the way his eyes lingered on you just a second too long. “Oh, are we?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, his breath warm and teasing against your ear. “After I get these idiots outta here.”

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hannieehaee · 25 days ago

Note

had a hard day in work so a member will j make u feel good with their mouth and hands mmmm

18+ / mdi

them helping their s/o relax after work

content: smut, established relationship, afab reader, oral (f receiving), mentions of sex, mentions of m receiving oral, etc.

wc: 690

a/n: thank u for requesting<33

masterlist

seungcheol -

you don't even have to ask. he knows the telltale signs of your tiredness and has an entire routine ready for the days when you come home a little extra tired. he'll bathe you, wine and dine you, and end the day with some head for you to fall asleep to.

jeonghan -

even as he attempts to relax you, he'll still tease you. he knows that the buildup will make it all even better, but he also just enjoys getting you to whine at him and pull at his hair with half-hearted demands for more.

joshua -

so cocky and annoying about it lol he'll make you have to beg for it, teasing you until the very last minute before going at you as if you were his last minute. and even then, he'll tease you by slowing down his touches every so often, asking you about your stressful day while between your legs.

jun -

at some point, he's learned to just let you take whatever you want on these extra stressful days. gets you sitting on his face and having your way with him, kind of broken by the way you whine at his nose touching you just right. would need some assistance after the fact to rid himself of his own arousal.

soonyoung -

he's like pavlov's dogs, he's just become conditioned to getting on his knees and ready to spread your legs when you come home in a certain mood. it's like a treat to him, knowing he can have you and that he's also helping you wind down after a stressful day. win win.

wonwoo -

will be between your legs, asking you questions about your day and expecting you to answer as he licks and licks and licks. hums along, keeping up with the conversation despite being otherwise occupied. feels this is the best form of unwinding for you, as it's both mental and physical.

jihoon -

ur tired? he's equally, if not more, exhausted. but it's okay, he can power through his tiredness to take care of the both of you! he'd get a bath ready and innocently help you wash the day away. naturally, he'd eventually grow distracted by the sight of your pretty, wet, nude body and become consumed by you, offering himself up for your pleasure to help you relax further.

seokmin -

it's become kind of a routine thing for him to let you ride his face any time you're stressed. you get to a point where you don't even have to communicate it verbally anymore. you just have to kiss him a certain type of way and he's already ushering you up his body.

mingyu -

this man is a much so he'll use any excuse possible to get his face between your legs for as long as he can. it's therapeutic for him too, so it's kind of self-serving to him in a way. will likely hump the bed until he comes as he eats you out.

minghao -

believes sexual acts to be incredibly therapeutic for couples, so giving you head when you're tired and stressed was probably his idea. didn't even think of it in a horny way but more in a 'i want to take care of you' type of way. happy to relax you and get you to sleep like this.

seungkwan -

he becomes pussydrunk so quickly he literally forgets why he was eating you out in the first place. forgets immediately that he was also tired to begin with, automatically relaxing as he eats you out. perfect bonding activity, he thinks.

vernon -

he'll be a little confused the first few times you ask him for this, but he'll never complain about it!! cannot help getting impossibly hard after he's done, always nudging your cunt with his nose to silently ask if he can fuck you to sleep.

chan -

it's like he's on a competition to impress you every time he's between your legs. he tries to outdo himself every time, sometimes even stressing you out as he eats at you because of how intense he is. needs you to reel him back by controlling his pace every so often.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt reactions #seventeen reactions

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beelmons · 1 year ago

Text

How to shut a genius up.

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

cw: face riding, i think that's it?

Spencer is, gently put, annoying.

But well, aren't we all at times? At least, he's annoying for all the right reasons. Rampant mind eager to share an endless stream of knowledge, well-deserved validation of his own extraordinary skills, pinkish lips that spoke their mind without concern, words were a tool he used for good, never with an ounce of malice.

It seemed to you that talking was all he knew. No matter how much you rubbed your hand on his thigh at the bar the team went to, or that asked him for his shower after a drunk man dropped an entire yard of beer on your clothes, or the fact that you were standing in his livingroom with only a towel wrapped around your body, and how you were paying no mind to whatever he was saying and your eyes were fixed on his mouth, the same mouth you had been craving for quite a while now.

"...and that's why, although I'm not a fan of digital encyclopedias, Wikipedia can actually be considered a reliable source of information. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that the referenciation of other related concepts makes it the most efficient learning tool of the century."

Little did you know, he had begun his little rant in an attempt to keep himself distracted from your nudeness beneath the fabric that covered you. Trying to keep the blood from flowing too much to the south.

"You talk too much." you blurted out.

"Sorry?" he asked in confusion "What are you—?"

Your actions, as was your wording, were automatic. You took a couple of steps forward and faintly heard his inquiring voice in the background, but you didn't quite care. You were aiming for a goal: to make him shut up. Your lips attached to his in a frustrated kiss, arms wrapping around his neck.

He was dubfounded to a point where his movements also became clumsy, he stepped on a random book that was misplaced and lost his balance. His hands had gripped onto your sides, so you couldn't help but to fall onto the ground along with him.

The rucks caused him to wince in discomfort, a sensation the only lasted about the three seconds that took him to open his eyes. Due to the angle, you had given an extra step and fallen a couple more centimeteres forward, your towel spread open, and your stomach at the same level of his eyes.

While you yourself figured out what was going on, a sudden rush of embarassment overtook you. Logically, since you were now bare naked hovering over your crush.

"Shit!" you yelled out as you were on your knees and palms on the ground "I'm so sorry, Spencer, I don't know what took over me!"

Beridden by anguish, instead of taking the sensible action of rolling off of him, you tried to crawl your way forward. What you didn't see coming, however, was the fact that, as your knees pressed next to his head when you tried to drag yourself from his sight, his hands would press against your thighs to stop you.

Your core was now loitering over his face, out in the open for his eyes to devour. For once, he had found himself amiss of words. You, on your part, were hot to your face with shyness. This had not been what you planned when you decided to kiss him, certainly. Although, such train of thought would be shortly stopped by Spencer himself.

His arms curled around your thighs instead and gently tugged them down; by the time to were 'sitting' on his face, his tongue was already out. The feeling of his muscle entering you caused a loud, startled gasp from you, and before you could get used to the sensation, it traveled further up to your clit.

"Spencer..." you whimpered slightly at the pleasure he was giving you.

You decided to straighten your back to be fully sitting, and in this new position you were in control of your own hips, same that began to rock back and forth against his lips. On his part, single grunts of delight could be heard, his hands positioned themselves at your buttocks, helping you push your body against his face.

His mouth was eager to taste more of you, you could feel the entirety of it working it's way around your pussy, his lips slurping the juices that dripped from you out of arousal. Your hands curled on his hair to prevent you from falling to the side, given that your legs were about close to giving in.

His nose and chin did their part as well, touching nerves that would be otherwise unattended in any other position. The rubbing and moiture of his abused face were sending waves of intense pleasure through out your body, in fact, at some point you sort of forgot he was there, eyes tight shut, just using him to get yourself off.

Hence, why when you finally reached your climax, you came without restraint all over him. His tongue didn't start working inspite of your body falling limp forward, he was set on cleaning the mess he had created.

You whined in complaint at the slight overstimulation, and he took it as a sign to push you off, causing you to roll over as you should initially have. Instead of moving away from you, his face was buried between your legs the instead he was on his stomach, hardworking tongue lazily tasting around your entrance.

"You finally shut up." your back arched as you breathed out, bracing yourself of the next round you quickly understood was coming.

"I have an enough good reason to."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid blurb #blurb: mine #blurb: spencer #blurb: criminal minds #blurb: smut #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds

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trivia-yandere · 2 months ago

Text

autumn of terror

the small town of oakville is being taken over by a serial killer who goes by "the ripper" who uses fear as a tactic to control the town entire. you, an out of town detective, team up with head detective of oakville kim seokjin, to take down the ripper. @sweetempathprunetree @momnomnom @darkuni63 @bangtans-momma @chimmy-licious @investedreader

word count: 16.773

warning: blood, character deaths, smut, reader is blindfolded, dub-con moments, slight mention of child abuse/abandonment, voyeurism, oral sex (m/f), handjob, dub-con.non-con elements, dirty talk, degradation, nipple sucking, thigh riding, overstimulation, squirting, unprotected sex, mentions of human trafficking,

halloween masterlist - happy spooky season!!

The leaves crumble beneath your feet as you step onto the pavement, a chill running up your spine at how chilly it was this autumn. The breeze runs through your hair and pierces against your skin like a knife. Your breathing is evident in the harsh, cold weather and your nose automatically sniffles.

Your legs continue to walk up the shallow stairs of the building, your gloved hand grasping the door handle and pulling it open. Warm air engulfs you and you sigh in relief, rushing inside.

It’s chaotic inside said building - there’s several phones ringing nearly nonstop, people running around in a frenzy. You never seen a precinct be in such a ruckus. There’s a crowd forming inside, all of which are hollering out demands while there are several police officers attempting to hold them back.

Your eyes scan the large precinct, eyes unsure where to fall - the telephones are ringing nonstop and you notice they are several officers already speaking. Officers who are attempting to keep the crowd at bay are seconds from drawing their weapons.

“What are you doing to catch the Ripper?!”

“How many people have to die before the Ripper is caught?!”

The Ripper.

The Ripper was the reason why you were here - all the way from your own town. The Ripper has taken over the town of Oakville spanning back to the end of summer. It began with one or two murders a week - it caused mumbles in the streets of Oakville. Murders so gruesome didn’t happen in said town - blood splattering the streets and the walls, intestines sprawling outside of the body and seemingly dragged away for miles.

One or two murders a week became murders every night - each murder more gruesome and cruel than the last. It caused a frenzy throughout the town that had officers and detectives working overtime for any clues; the Ripper left none.

As Autumn creeped in, it appeared as if the Ripper’s identity had remained a secret, but that didn’t mean that the Ripper worked alone.

“Excuse me?” you clear your throat, waving your hand high to grab the attention of the officers. “I’m here to speak to Detective Kim? I’m Detective-”

“Y/L Y/N.”

There’s a door to the far right that opens and you hear the ragged voice of just the man you were looking for. Seokjin is tall and his shoulders broad - they appear to be stressed as the weight of the town depends solely on his shoulders. “Come, please.” he says, waving you over to his office. “We’ve been expecting you.”

You do as you’re asked, rushing towards the man's office where he quickly slams the door shut and locks it in case anyone from the crowd wants to follow after you.

“Coffee?” Seokjin asks - the question comes out as a sigh. You assume that he uses coffee to keep himself sane and awake. There’s slight bags underneath his eyes and you understand that he must be working overtime to figure out clues.

“Uh, yes. I’ll make it.” you nod your head, making your way towards the pot of coffee that’s on the shelves while Seokjin makes his way around to his desk. “So, what do we have so far, detective?”

“Please,” Seokjin huffs with a shake of his head. He falls onto his office chair and opens up a few documents. “You can call me Seokjin or even Jin. We’re going to be well acquainted if we’re going to be working together.”

You nod your head at him. “Yes, Jin.” you say, the little nickname sounding foreign to your tongue.

It was a month prior when you got a call from Kim Seokjin, lead detective from Oakville, a small town a few hours from your own. The man appears slightly frantic and desperate, explaining that every precinct he has called for assistance outside of his town had refused any assistance - an act you found completely cowardly. You had agreed to help him with the investigation no matter how long it took and he was grateful.

You listen to Jin speak as you pour sugar and milk into your coffee.

“Right, as you know,” Jin begins, leaning back into his chair. “the Ripper has been plaguing this town for months now. The townspeople are utterly terrified of him - them.”

“You believe the Ripper is more than one person?” you ask, blowing at your coffee.

Jin shrugs. “It’s a possibility,” he states. “Nothing is off the table. I believe the Ripper is just the head of an organization - the same gang we have around Oakvale now.”

“Explain further, please.” you sip your coffee, leaning against the wall as your eyes watch Jin.

Jin sighs. His right hand reaches up to rub at his temple.

“There’s a small gang that we are positive that operates at the Ripper’s orders. We have someone on the inside undercover.” Jin says, glancing up at you. “By his words, none of them has seen the Ripper face to face, only speaks to him over the phone or through letters and such.”

You furrow your brows. “Interesting.” you murmur. You place your cup of coffee on the shelf and cross your arms, grateful that you were beginning to warm up. “The Ripper is doing a great job at remaining anonymous.”

“Tell me about it.” Jin scoffs. “I had one of my men go undercover nearly a month ago and has seen everything except the Ripper.”

“I see.” you hum. “What is the plan while he’s on the inside?”

“The Ripper is one hell of a killer and none of those working under him is as calculated as he is.” Jin opens up a few envelopes. “His kills are truly horrifying and demeaning and this is how he even keeps his own gang in line. They’re just as terrified of him as we are.”

Jin continues. “I’ve seen this town go from safe to completely…barbaric. Prostitution is at an all time high on the outskirts of the town and my detective tells me that some of them are forced into it. The townspeople are attempting to take matters into their own hands and have physically brought in who they assume the Ripper is.”

You believe it, the angry crowd outside were just as restless and afraid. “I take it as none of the suspects were the Ripper.”

Jin snickers with a shake of his head. “You’re catching on quick, Y/N. Can I call you by name?” he asks, and when you nod, he continues. “By what I’ve seen the Ripper can do, he would not let a few townspeople catch him. He’s truly a force of nature…a shadow.”

“You must’ve had a lot on your plate.” you take another sip of your coffee.

“Indeed I have. Detectives and officers have quit because they received threatening letters…by the Ripper.” Jin glances your way, analyzing your reaction. “I should have told you before-”

“I understand why you haven’t.” you interrupt. “I’m from out of town, Jin. I won’t be scared away by the Ripper.”

Jin exhales. “I hope so. We need all the help we can get.” he admits, eyes glancing back down at the stack of documents. “Do you have any questions?”

“Well, for one…is there a spare room around here? I already told my captain that I won’t be returning until the Ripper is caught.”

Jin’s eyes slightly widened. You were serious about staying and helping.

“I can have a room made for you!” Jin nods his head. “I live right above the precinct, as sad as that sounds. I have basically lived here myself ever since the murders.”

“Thank you.” you nod, offering a soft smile. “My next question is, what do you think we should do to take down the Ripper? I have a few of my own.”

“Please, explain.”

“Well,” you step forward to sit across from him in the arm chair. “The Ripper doesn’t work alone. I say we take down as many of his little gang and that should be able to draw him out, right? Your detective on the inside should be able to help with that.”

Jin slowly nods his head. He places a hand on his chin.

“We start by taking down whatever businesses he has. The prostitution ring is just the beginning I’m sure. There has to be a reason why he’s doing all of this.”

“Control? He’s completely taken over the city.” Jin shakes his head once more. “My detective said there’s parties nearly every other day at a secluded location.”

You nod. “That’s what the prostitutes are far, I’m sure. Maybe there may even be…higher officials at these parties?”

Jin tilts his head. “You mean like…?”

“Officers. Politicians and more. People in high places with power.” It wouldn’t be a surprise to you that this is why the Ripper can remain as anonymous as he does.

Jin releases another exhale. He licks his lips, beady eyes blinking a few times.

“You can be right, Y/N. We’ll have to infiltrate these parties.”

“We do. If I may,” you lean forward, elbows on his desk. “do you believe we should have another insider?”

“How so?”

“Well, like me?” you tilt your head. “I’m a new face. The Ripper nor anyone working for him would know who I am.”

“Y/N,” Jin goes to shake his head. “I don’t think-”

“The closest to the Ripper’s operation are the prostitutes, are they not?”

Jin’s beady eyes widened. “Y-You want to go undercover as a prostitute? Y/N,” he releases a shaky chuckle. “that is completely dangerous.”

“I’m well aware, Jin. I’m also a trained and skilled detective, unlike the women working those spaces. I’ll be able to protect myself.”

Jin eyes you, scanning your face. “You’re serious.” he states. “I’ll never forgive myself if you were harmed, Y/N. You are only here because of me, after all.”

“We both have jobs to do, don’t we, Jin?” you tilt your head. “I’ll be safe and grab intel while I’m on the inside. I’ll be nothing but a whore to them.”

A loud knock sounds on the door and it startles both you and Jin. The door creaks open, waiting for no answer. It shuts abruptly behind the intruder.

“Y/N,” Jin stands to his feet. “This is my undercover detective. Daniel,” he nods his head to you. “This is the detective I was speaking with you about.”

“The one from out of town.” Daniel nods his head. He appears to be out-of-breath, dark hair sticking to his forehead.

“Y/N is suggesting she infiltrate, as well. As a prostitute…”

Daniel’s eyes widen and he looks at you. “I…don’t think you’d want to do this.”

You raise an eyebrow. “For the sake of the case,” you begin.

“You’ll have to sleep with one of them in order to gain access. That’s how they determine if…” Daniel sighs, a pink tint to his cheeks. “...if you’re worthy or not to work for them.”

Your mouth goes dry for a moment. Slowly, you nod your head. What else would you expect - these women were working and selling sex. “Who would I have to sleep with?”

“You’re not truly considering this?” Jin scoffs in disbelief. “Y/N-”

“How else are we going to gain access to these parties? We’ll need someone else on the inside. Once there, I’ll excuse myself and find a way to contact you and that’s how you’ll be able to bust them, no?”

Jin shakes his head. This plan was already risky - but knowing now that you’d have to give up your body so soon is something he doesn’t want for you.

“It sounds like a good idea…” Daniel murmurs. “Even I don't even know where these parties are held. Only certain members are allowed to go for security purposes.”

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Jin murmurs to you. “Sleep on it for now. Tomorrow we can speak further.”

“Jin-”

“It’s not up for debate.” Jin says. “Enough talk of this case. Are you hungry? We can grab something to eat. Daniel?”

“Right,” Daniel nods. “I was just reporting back. Tomorrow there’ll be a shipment coming in.”

Jin nods. “I’ll make sure to have officers on hand,” he says. “Thank you, Daniel.”

Daniel nods. “No problem.” he sighs. He offers you a short glance. “Detective,” he bows to you before turning on his heels and making his leave.

As the door clicks shut, Jin frowns at you. You furrow your brows. “Are you upset with me?”

“No. Just…” Jin swallows his words. “...I don’t want anyone else dying at the hands of the Ripper or his weak henchmen.”

You understood completely. What you were doing is insane - but for the sake of the case, you’d do it. You were a renowned detective that always put whatever case you had first, no matter the consequences.

“What do you prefer to eat?” Jin asks, closing a few file envelopes before rounding his desk to you. “There’s a diner not far from here we can go to?”

“Uh, yeah sure. That’ll be fine.” you nod your head, lifting yourself up from the chair. You make your way to your discarded cup of coffee and quickly down it. It’s lukewarm now and easier to drink than when it was white it was piping hot. “Let’s go. I’m sure you can fill me in on whatever details we left out.”

“I often enjoy breakfast for dinner.” Jin comments, digging into the smothered pancakes, syrup daring to drip down his lips. “I basically live in my office since the Ripper appeared.”

You take a sip of your juice and nod your head. “I can imagine. The phone was ringing nonstop.”

Jin snickers. “You’re not lying. I’ve unplugged the one in my office.” he says. “The calls were all useless. Some thought they caught the Ripper while others were just demanding that we hurry up and do our jobs.”

“Is it that ludicrous to believe that they did find the Ripper?” you ask.

Jin lifts his eyes to look at you, a look of disdain. He nods his head slowly. “Of course. You believe a regular person can find someone that doesn’t want to be found?”

You scoff. “Putting it that way…”

Dinner goes by smoothly. Jin has managed to give you as much information about the Ripper as possible and your mind processes it entirely. You didn’t have an easy stomach, so going through the crime scene photos didn’t bother your stomach, but your spirit. The way these people were harmed so cruelly - dismembered and body treated with such hatred. You want to ask if the Ripper has any tie to any of these people? Surely these could not be random murders committed - not when it appeared to be so personal.

“Enough about the case.” Jin nearly has to pry away the documents from you. He closes them and places it besides him. “What about you, Y/N?”

“What about me?” you plop a piece of toast into your mouth and begin to chew.

“What made you want to become a detective?” Jin questions. “I feel like we’ll be working together for a while. The Ripper isn’t an easy target.”

“I agree.” you chuckle. “Well…I…” you swallow, unsure of where to start. The beginning is always good and Jin didn’t appear to be in any rush. “...I always wanted to help. I actually…um…”

You bring your glass of juice up to your lips and begin to chug. Talking about your past was never easy for you. You don’t cry anymore - you’re an adult that doesn't need to seek out pity. In your line of work, you’ve experienced worse as do others.

“I was given up for adoption by my biological parents and that led me with people that weren’t so kind. I wasn't with them for long until I eventually found myself with people I don’t belong with - even as a child.”

You’re being vague and you’re positive that Jin understands this.

“I had to do some horrible things just to survive. Thing’s children shouldn’t have to do.”

Jin listens, no longer eating his food. His eyes are watching you, awaiting for you to respond.

“I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by more children…they were my,” you put your fingers up to do finger quotations. “‘siblings,’ they said. I’m too young to remember any of them but I do remember the day we were rescued.” Jin furrows his brows. “Rescued?”

You nod your head. “I remember the two of them. I remember being so scared of them. They were adults and all the adults in my life ever did hurt me and my siblings. But they didn’t. They promised to help us…and they did.”

Your mind processes your memories, the blurred faces of the children and the two saviors who freed you all from captivity. “It’s unfortunate that I’ve never seen those kids again. I’m not sure if they’re still alive to this day but,” you exhale. “I truly do hope their lives got better. I prayed that they found peace and happiness in wherever life took them.”

Jin is quiet for a moment, probably taking in everything you’ve told him. You said a lot without speaking too much of the truth, not fully ready to address the early years of your life. You contemplate if you ruined the mood as speaking of your past could do that to anyone - even you at times. But you understand that Jin didn’t mean any harm and probably wasn’t expecting your past to be that chaotic.

“I see.” Jin says. He takes hold of one of his drinks - he ordered three, a coffee, a water and fresh-squeezed orange juice - and takes a sip. “I suppose we both had different childhoods.”

You raise an eyebrow. “My mother,” Jin drops his drink and blinks at you. You notice just how intense his eyes are - dark and nearly unreadable. “was a prostitute.”

You sit straight on your side of the booth, shoulders straightening as you listen to his speak.

“I’ve seen a lot of men come and go in my life and the same men take her life. I suppose you and I are somewhat the same. I was trafficked, sold to work in factories and warehouses alongside other children and even adults paying off their debts.”

Your eyes widened slightly, your mind swirling with flashbacks of your own past life and how you and the other children you grew alongside. You swallow the lump in your throat. To think Seokjin has gone through something similar like you and also managed to not allow his past to define his future.

“My mother had a long debt and since she was gone, I had to be responsible for it. I recall only sleeping a max of two hours before we were instructed to go back to work. The amount of times we’ve almost died working in such heinous conditions.”

Jin speaks without a stutter or as much as a short break. His face remains stoic and you just wonder how much he’s been through to be so numb to it all.

“I suppose maybe that’s why the Ripper is so personal to me. He once targeted prostitutes before his reign of terror around the town had widened. The same sun that would shine bright in the sky appears to always be hidden by dark clouds.”

You can hear your heart beating so rapidly and it pounds right outside your chest. You take a deep breath to process it all.

This wasn’t going to be easy, you note. The Ripper was a sensitive subject for everyone- especially Jin. By the few hours you’ve come to know him, you realized that he worked such long hours in catching the Ripper and now you understand why. His childhood followed him into his adulthood ; working on little to no sleep, nonstop. There’s slight bags underneath his eyes, and yet he still manages to look refreshed and young.

“Thank you for telling me.” you speak after a few moments of silence.

“I should be thanking you, as well, then.” Jin smiles with a tilt of his head. It causes your body to heat up slightly - but you weren’t here to act as a giddy teenager with a growing crush. “I’m glad we’re both getting to know one another. You are going to be my partner until we catch the Ripper. I do want us to be close.”

Jin leans forward and you’re caught completely off guard. You stiffen, his eyes boring into yours only making you a bit more awkward.

“I really do appreciate you for coming here, Y/N. It isn’t safe for someone like you here.” Jin speaks truthfully. He wasn’t going to sugar coat anything for you, and for that you were grateful. “You’re putting yourself into harm's way is truly admirable.”

“It’s nothing.” you murmur, body still warm at his words - and even the tone of which he says them. “I’m not doing anything differently than you.”

“True, but,” Jin shakes his head. “Oakville is my town. You came all the way here to help us, and for that you deserved to be acknowledged.”

After all these years, you weren’t used to being praised. It always caused you to just stand awkwardly as you received them, but you cannot say that his praises didn’t cause a warmth fill throughout you.

Slightly, you nod your head. You take a gulp of your drink, needing something to cool yourself off.

“I’m surprised I haven’t scared you off yet. I was hoping I would be able to steer you away from becoming…”

“A prostitute.” you finish the word for him. Understanding Jin’s childhood with his mother, it made sense as to why he didn’t want you to go undercover as one. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help catch the Ripper, Jin. I can handle whatever is thrown towards me. I’m sure we went through the same basic training in bootcamp.”

Jin chuckles with a nod of his head. He finally leans back into the booth. “I’m positive we have.” he responds. “I don’t wish to offend you. I just want you to be careful. If you ever need a way out, please, don’t hesitate to use Daniel to your advantage.”

You nod your head. Your stomach was satiated and you were glad that you had a chance to sit and speak with Jin on a deeper level. It made working alongside him better - more trusting.

Jimin was an interesting character and he made you nervous - you’re positive that he’s aware. You were expecting someone grimey and old; maybe not ancient old, but old enough to be that creepy uncle.

Jimin wasn’t old and you truly wish to ask for his actual age as it appeared he and you were around the same age. His skin is fresh and wrinkle free, almost like a porcelain doll. His lips are hydrated and plush. His face is sculpted perfectly, oval face shaped with narrowed chin and jawline. His hair is styled neatly, the silver tresses on top swooped on the right side of his head, the sides cut shorter than the top. It seemingly reflects off of the dim lights of the room you’re in.

Jimin’s eyes are what makes you the most nervous. They’re dark and they appear to be watching you closely, trailing up and down your body entirely as if looking for any imperfections. It’s hard to be confident underneath his gaze, but you had to remain as such.

You’ve been in Oakville for a week and finally managed to make it inside Jimin’s large estate. It’s cleaner than you would have imagined a brothel to be and the women are all welcoming and inviting. There’s an aura around them that shines brightly even underneath the dim lights of his estate.

Only you and Jimin stood in this large room and it appeared to be like an office. There’s a desk directly in front of a large window - it displays a beautiful scenery of woods behind it, the tree’s moving silently in the wind from the outside. The floors are hardwood and a dark mahogany that doesn’t squeak or squeal when you walk on them.

There’s several paintings on the walls, most of which are of women and some are nude, but they aren’t lewd paintings as you might expect in a brothel. They’re artistic in a way and you recall hearing many people speak highly of art such as this.

“You like them?”

Your eyes snap back to the man in front of you. He’s still seated at his desk, leaning back with his arms placed in his lap as he stares right at you. His voice is as young as he looks, soft and calm. It has a level of coolness and sensuality to it that has you realizing why someone like him could be in this line of work.

“The art,” Jimin continues, glancing at the array of artwork on his wall. “do you like them?”

Slowly, you nod your head. “They’re amazing.” you admit.

Jimin’s lip stretches into a low grin at your response. “It was once said by Michelangelo that the skin is more beautiful than the garments in which it is clothed.”

Jimin begins to tap his fingers against his thigh, again watching you closely.

Daniel had insisted - apologize profusely, as well - that you needed to dress the part if you were going to impress Jimin. This is how you found yourself, clothed completely in white. Your stockings stop at your upper thigh, held up by a garter of the same color. Your bralette is laced and similar to your panties, a floral pattern stitched onto the fabric and hides just enough for you not to be fully exposed.

You didn’t wear lingerie and your undergarments were as basic as they come. You had gone out your way to buy some new ones when Daniel had warned you - going with white as it was the safest color for a situation such as this.

“What’s your name?” asked Jimin.

“Y/N.” you answered truthfully.

“You’re not from here.” Jimin states. It wasn’t a question. Jimin is certain that someone like you wasn’t from Oakville - he’s lived in this town for years. “Where are you from?” “Nowhere, really.” you respond. “I haven't settled anywhere for too long.”

Jimin blinks and hums, mind taking in your response.

“Why have you chosen Oakville, Y/N?” Jimin leans forward, hands placing themselves onto his desk. “Surely you’ve heard of the Ripper.”

You swallow. You had to act the part and appear slightly afraid - even if the Ripper had not frightened you.

“I have.” you nod your head. “I assume if I stay in my own lane, I wouldn’t be his next victim.”

Jimin chuckles to himself, a boyish laugh that causes his eyes to turn smaller.

“You’re right about that.” Jimin nods. “Working for me means that you’ll also be working for the Ripper. Do you know what that entails?”

That you’ll be one step closer to defeating the Ripper and stopping his reign of terror in the town of Oakville. Instead of stating that, you shake your head.

“It means you do what you are told.” Jimin stands, his chair scrubbing against the hardwood floor as he pushes his chair back.

Jimin’s taller than you expected and he rounds the corner of his desk and stalks towards you. “It means that while you work for me, Y/N…” Jimin is in front of you now, tilting his head to peer at you with dark eyes. “...you’ll do as I tell you to. Turn around.”

Your shoulders are tense but you have no choice but to turn around. If anything, you’re sure you would be able to fight off Jimin if needed be - but you couldn’t resort to that just yet. You were undercover; expected to be nothing but a prostitute in their eyes.

Your eyes are then covered by a silk fabric. It’s tied behind your head tightly and you lick your lips in nervousness.

You know what you are expected to do, you think. If Jimin was going to invest in you, he needed to test out whatever product you were selling - that only meant your body.

“Turn back around.” Jimin’s cool voice speaks to you, his hands on your shoulders to guide you around to face him.

Your mind is making up images as your eyes cannot see. Jimin removes his hands from you and takes a few steps back - you can hear his footsteps creak away, as if watching to see your reaction.

“Get on your knees.”

Jimin’s voice is farther and you are given no choice but to do as you are told. Your knees hit the cold hardwood floor, hands in your lap.

You hear the footsteps come closer again and you inhale a shaky breath as you feel warm hands on your chin. It lifts your head up as if to look at him.

“Working for me means you’ll be more privileged than any other prostitute.” Jimin words hit your heads, a thumb swiping across your bottom lip. “I want to see how good you are.”

Your heart is pounding now and your body heats up at the obvious sign of sex. You were going to have to make the first move - after all, you came to him.

Your hands reach out to touch him, finding his wrist. Your mouth opens slightly, tongue poking out to poke at his thumb. Your tongue twirls around his thumb idly, your grip on his wrist tightening.

You lightly nibble on his thumb, your thighs pushing themselves apart as you inch closer to the man. Your hand trails from his wrist to reach out until you are sure you find his thigh. It would be easier if you could see, but you would have to manage.

There’s a bulge that you finally manage to find and it causes you to gulp once more - you were actually doing this. But there was no going back now. You were one step closer to the Ripper.

Your hand caresses the bulge in his pants, squeezing it into your embrace teasingly.

“It looks like you want to taste something else.” Jimin states.

“If you’d let me.” you retort, head lifting as if looking at him in the face - you wish you could.

“If you truly wanted to, you would. I’m not stopping you.”

Your hands trail up until they feel a belt buckle. It’s leather and it takes you a few tries until you manage to unbuckle it. Your hands tremble as they go to pull down his pants, breathing increasing.

“You look so scared, Y/N. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” you respond. “It would be easier if I could see you.”

“You made the impression that you’ve done this before. Have you not?”

Jimin speaks as if he knows you’re lying and that’s not something you wanted. Your life was on the line for this and you truly didn’t want to die this soon.

You don’t respond, and instead your hands proceed to tug at the briefs he wore until they are down. Your mind has to connect the dots that you cannot see.

Your hand finds his cock, the naked flesh already hard and warm. It pulses in your grasp and your thumb circles the tip of his cock to assure you had it in your possession. Without warning, your tongue licks up the slit as if licking a lollipop. It swirls around the tip, the salty taste of precum meeting your taste buds immediately.

You wished that you would have taken something upon coming here - you knew what you would be getting into. A type of aphrodisiac of the sort so that you could enjoy yourself without the thoughts in the back of your mind.

You didn’t have time to think about your actions now, and instead wrap a hand around the base of his cock to continue sucking, your cheeks suctioning inward with each slurp. His cock is coated with saliva. You can hear him - short moans that have your ears perking at just the sound of them. You suppose it’s nice, as the sounds of his boyish moans shoot straight to your core - an act of service you indeed needed if you were going to go through this case.

Your palm begins to pump his cock, focusing more on the tip than anything. You’re sure you looked exactly like you were supposed to - exactly what they were looking for in a woman in this business.

Your slurping increases, bouncing off of the walls of the quiet room. As your slurping increases, so do the moans he releases. It comes out in short breaths, dancing through your ears as a compliment that what you were doing was indeed working.

Your hand falls onto your lap and you widen your mouth to take more of him. You pop his cock from your mouth and lick your lips - you could taste pre-cum, the salty taste bitter in your mouth. “You’re such a tease.” your ears perk when Jimin finally speaks and you cannot help but believe that you had no effect on him.

You gulp, breathing through your nose a bit. “I can’t help but believe I’m doing all the work.”

Your hair is gripped suddenly and without warning, he slides into your mouth. Your eyes widen behind the silk ribbon and you’re unable to react fully as he’s already sliding in and out of your mouth.

It’s rough, you note, and maybe your words set him off. With each thrust, it hits the back of your throat and you feel the need to gag, but you manage. Your fists clench in your lap, legs clenching together tightly for whatever friction you could get.

His moans increase, grunting and groaning with each thrust into your mouth. There’s drool dripping down your chin sloppily to match the forming tears in your eyes. The sounds that now echo across the room are filthy, suckling and gagging from you and his increased breathing.

“Ah, maybe you are a good whore, after all.” Jimin sing-songs, amused. “You’re excited, aren’t you?”

Your head is yanked back. If you could see, you would be looking up at the man now. His thrusts slow down and your mind has to connect the dots once more. You’re positive that he’s watching you, possibly admiring the way you look now; vulnerable and slutty - something a man like him would enjoy.

“I can see the way your legs clench together…” his words hit your ears once more, this time his tone is low and deeper. “...you like this, don’t you? A woman like you enjoys being treated like this…”

You cough when his cock is released from your mouth. Air finally hits your lungs and you take it all in as you’re unaware when you’d be able to process what’s coming next.

Again, you’re pushed. This time, you’re on your back and your legs and forced open. Your head crashed against the hardwood floor as hands touch and grip your skin with such greed. You’re unsure what to do and all you could do was whimper to yourself silently.

“You’re a whore, right, Y/N?” Jimin asks you. “Has anyone ever pleasured you?”

You feel pressure on your clothed clit - he was cupping it. Your stomach churns at the feeling; forbidden and dirty. You weren’t supposed to want this; you weren’t a whore. You were a detective, and for a moment you forget about the case entirely.

“No…” you respond.

“Tsk,” Jimin murmurs.

You whimper once more when you feel circular motions being rubbed onto your clit. The lacy fabric of your panties were beginning to stick to you and you feel utterly exposed to the man, now more than before.

“Take them off.” Jimin suddenly commands. There’s a slight tug at your bralette. “I want you to strip for me, Y/N. After all, I’m paying you to be here, aren’t I?” You inhale, lifting yourself up from the cold hardwood floor to do as the man asks. Your bra falls off of you and without warning, your panties are tugged off, as well, a ripping sound sounding through your ears.

“You look so scared.”

Jimin’s voice doesn’t have any concern in them. If anything, you could hear a tint of amusement. He got off by embarrassing you and other woman. To him, you were indeed a whore that needed him to succeed in life. You’ll make it your mission that he would be brought down alongside the Ripper.

“Whore’s usually…” you are pushed down against the floor once more. “...pretend they're with another man while doing this. Who are you pretending you’re with?”

Your mind flashes for a moment, seeing Seokjin. His dark eyes shining with concern at not wanting you to be here. He was kind, truly, and it hurts to think that he showed more concern for your safety than you had from your own.

“Tell me.” Jimin speaks again. “What’s his name? Is he a childhood friend? A former lover?”

“Jin.” you murmur, defeated.

Jin was the first man that came to mind - if you were going to pretend you were with anyone, it could possibly be him. Back home, you devoted yourself to your cases. You worked alongside mostly women. There wasn’t any man in your life that you could think of in a moment such as this - besides Seokjin.

You haven’t known Jin long, but seeing as your relationship with most men were close to nothing, he was the top candidate. While you’ve been in Oakville for such a small amount of time, he was determined to keep you out of harm's way. He had given you a room in his home that also had its own bathroom for privacy purposes. He had allowed you to take over smaller cases that involved the Ripper’s henchmen and had treated you with respect - like an actual equal. He hadn’t been a typical man who would use their authority over you and for that, you were grateful of him.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps as a shiver runs down your spine.

“Jin…” Jimin says, the name trailing off his tongue. “Jin…who is Jin?”

You don’t give a response and after a few moments, he doesn’t care to hear one. His hands are upon your body once more and it causes you to flinch. His hands are softer than what you expected and they grip and tug on your naked flesh.

Your breath hitches when those soft hands grip at your breast, pads of his thumbs pressing against your erect nipples.

Your thighs are forced apart and you can feel him between you - you assume his own thigh right where your heat is at. He presses it ever so gently against your clit, his palms squeezing your breast.

Maybe if you imagined it was Jin then things would be a bit better - you wouldn’t get too far into your head about what you were doing. You didn’t technically see Jin in a sexual light before; of course you’d admit that he was attractive. But whatever attraction your eyes enjoyed would not allow you to ruin what you were here for - not until now.

You gasp when a warm sensation runs through the skin of your neck - slimy and wet. You notice it immediately being his tongue. It swirls at the nape of your neck before trailing down towards your collarbone. He presses his clothed thigh harder against your clit, his left hand removing itself from your breast to place it onto your hip. He doesn’t speak and instead attempts to guide you.

He wanted you to rub yourself against him as if the moment wasn’t embarrassing enough. You do without a fuss, your eyes closed (even if they were bound by the ribbon) and imagining a kinder man that wasn’t Jimin.

Your hips buckle, rubbing yourself against his thigh. His tongue runs lower and lower. It’s right between your breasts now. The coolness of the large office causes your skin to shiver once more, body heating up.

There’s a groan from him. His left hand leaves your hip to then grasp your breast once more. This time, his tongue is connected to your hardened nipple and hungrily he suckles onto it. His right hand begins to pinch your other nipple with his index and thumb, tugging and pulling onto it.

You swallow back a moan, unable to control the way your body feels about receiving pleasure. You clench around nothing as you glide your clit against his thigh, all the way he continues to suckle slopping onto your breast.

He seems to be insatiable, moving onto your next breast to suck just as needily onto it as he did the first one. He now forces his thigh hard against you, right hand slapping your hips to grind even more.

You sigh, a shaky moan coming from your throat that has you embarrassed by how much you liked this. You know when it was all over that you would have a hard time looking at yourself in the mirror, but you were also aware of what you were getting yourself into.

Don’t think of Jimin, think of Jin, you tell yourself.

And as your mind thinks of the tall man with broad shoulders with such kind eyes, it makes it easier for you to touch him. Your hand places itself onto the back of his head, soft tresses greeting you. Your back arches slightly towards him and with that, you feel both of his arms engulf you entirely. His lips release your swollen nipple with a low pop and you can now feel his lips, so plump, press against your neck once more.

His teeth sink into your neck, biting down harshly - possessively. In reaction, you yelp, holding onto the back of his head for support. You can hear him breathing so intensely, getting into the moment just as you were.

“Ah-”

His hands are large, you note, ranking down your naked back as he pushed himself against you. Your thighs now cage his waist between your legs and you can feel how excited he is, a hardened bulge pressing right against your clit.

His tongue reappears, swiping over the spot he bit at, determined to leave a mark upon you no doubt. Just like before, his tongue makes its way down your collarbone, his head lowering. He goes past your breast before it stops at your stomach. This time, his lips press a kiss by your belly button.

This felt far too intimate and the part of you that knew that this wasn’t Jin was left confused - did Jimin do this with all the women he slept with? Was he always so intimate and sensual?

But in order to not be grossed out by the scenario, you pretend it’s Jin, and the thought causes you to relax. You give into the kisses, mouth opening slightly to allow a low moan to be heard.

His kisses trail further, kissing your abdomen and it’s then you realize that he was going to be right between your legs. Your body is already hot while in the moment, heat radiating off of your skin like a furnace in the cool room. A part of you wanted to see him, but the other part didn’t want to ruin the fantasy.

He presses a kiss directly onto your clit. Your thighs quiver at the sudden action, inhaling a breath. He presses a few more kisses before his tongue licks a stripe up your slit. Your back arches once more at the foreign feeling. His tongue is so warm - warmer than it felt against your skin.

He continues to lick between your folds, both hands forcing your thighs apart so that you’re unmoving. You don’t hide how good it feels - especially since your mind is connecting pieces that aren’t there. Your mind displayed images of Jin between your legs, ravishing you so hungrily; similar to the way he appeared at the dinner. His dark eyes would look up at you, watching the way you came undone on his tongue for him.

Your hand tangles into his soft hair, hips buckling to feel more of his tongue - and it’s as if he gives you exactly what you want from him. His tongue lays flat against your clit, allowing you to take a bit of control of your own pleasure.

With your free hand, you grasp your breast in a semi-tight hold. Your lips get caught into your teeth in an attempt to not be too loud.

There’s a slap onto your thigh and without much warning, your legs are pushed farther apart. They are brough upwards to your shoulders - a position you weren’t aware you could be put in - and he takes back his control. His tongue suckles onto your clit sloppily, his head weaving back and forth with such speed.

Your groans increase higher and maybe that was his plan all along, to hear how good he’s making you. His wet suckling along with your cries soon echoes off of the walls, a filthy sound entirely.

Your mind flashes again, with Jin’s tongue buried so deep onto your pussy that it causes your skin to litter with goosebumps again, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Ah…!” you shriek, genuinely surprised with the sudden pressure inside of you.

He never gives any warnings. His fingers enter you whole, pumping greedily inside of you - he wants more. More moaning and groaning, more arousal to pool onto his tongue.

More.

Your pussy is tight as it clenches around him and your thighs are quivering once more with pleasure, but he doesn’t allow you scurry away from him. His fingers are so long and they fuck into you with such experience, hitting spots you never knew existed.

You're humiliated with the squelching sounds your pussy makes, an obvious sign of how much you enjoyed it all - his tongue lapping between your folds causes severe overstimulation.

Your eyes squeeze shut harder, hips jerking. You’re breathing intensifies, your body appearing so much lighter than before. You can feel the slick pooling out of you.

“I-I can’t…” you try to speak, but it doesn’t go anywhere. You’re trembling with pleasure right now, and your mind can only display images of Seokjin fingers curling inside of you. He stares at you with those dark eyes that tell you to cum all over him without having to utter a single word.

“...gonna…cum…” your hand reaches out to push the man away when the feeling comes - a sudden urge to let loose. It’s not something you’ve ever truly felt before and you were frightened by what it was.

The man doesn’t move as you expected. He removes his tongue from you and replaces it with his tongue instead, fingers drilling inside of you while his thumb rubs harshly against your clit.

Your toes curl, your hand holding onto his soft locs in need as the feeling grows closer and closer. You don’t realize that there’s tears forming until they slide past the silk ribbon and onto your cheeks.

“P-Please…” you plead, sounding utterly pathetic. Your head dips back and you let the pleasure consume you entirely, pooling out all at once with a humiliating splash that hits against the floor. It sounds like water spilling, a disgusting sound as this was your first time experiencing anything like this.

You fall back against the floor, chest rising and falling. Slowly, you feel his fingers leave you and you feel so empty with them. Your legs shake, pussy clenching and unclenching. You've never experienced such a thing, your body enduring the aftermath of such an orgasm that has you feeling dirty.

Your body is being pulled once more, a sign that the man wasn’t done with you just yet. You are handled like a doll, legs forced apart once more.

There’s another sensation against your clit - it’s already so wet that when it rubs against you, it squelches.

You knew it was time for him to fuck you - the tip of his cock inching closer and closer to your entrance.

You’re more willing now, widening your legs. You are still seeing Jin in your mind and imagine that it is him. When he enters his cock inside of you, you gasp, back arching from the ground once more.

He enters you deep, allowing you to adjust to his size. You cannot help but groan, your hands reaching out to touch his wrists. His own hands dig into the naked flesh of your hips and for the first time in a while you hear his own groan.

Your breast bounces as he begins to thrust inside of you. He lifts your lower body up from the floor a bit to get a deeper entrance. He isn’t quiet in the slightest. With each deep thrust, there’s a groan after it.

You are positive that you aren’t meant to last long - not with the amount of pleasure you experienced in such a short amount of time. You’re so full of him, his cock ramming into you so fast and deep that you don’t have a time to react to it.

Your hands trail from his wrist to his arms, holding on for support. Your moans dance along with his and you cannot help but want to be closer to the man. You initiate the embrace first, lifting yourself up from the ground to wrap your arms around his neck.

The act causes the man to fuck you ever harder, hands gliding from your hips to wrap you in his own embrace.

His shoulders are so broad, you note, and you rub onto them needily. Maybe it was the sex blinding you from the fact that this wasn’t Jin as Jimin didn’t have the same body - but the ribbon causes you to imagine that it was. It’s what has you moaning and begging him for more.

The ribbon blocking your sight is what has you licking onto his own skin hungrily as he fucks into you so good. It’s what has you buckling your own hips to meet his thrusts.

Your lack of sight of Jimin has you seeing Jin in your mind, and it causes your lips to meet his plump ones that are coated in your arousal. Your hands grip onto his hair as your tongue dances with his, your pussy clenching so tight around him that neither of you want to stop now.

You wonder what he sees. Maybe a girl once shy, turned so aroused that she’s pleading for more. She’s leaking all over the place, soft moans growing higher and higher until she’s nearly screaming.

He gives you exactly what you want him to, fucking into you with a stamina so great that it has you cumming all over him again, more hot tears streaming down your face pathetically.

He doesn’t last too long, either. His thrust becomes sloppy and he’s grunting into your ear so melodically. He manages to pull out of you, cumming right onto your stomach - it’s hot and the amount is alarming, but you allow it, your mind seeing Seokjin, so fucked out and full of lust that you are completely content with being used by someone that wasn’t him.

“Y/N…I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

It’s been another week since you’ve last seen Jin.

Daniel nods his head before closing the door to his office.

Jin places whatever documents he’s going through down onto his desk and rounds it to come closer to you.

“Jin. Hello.” you greet him, nodding your head. “Mind if I have some coffee?”

“You don’t have to ask.” Jin snorts and nods his head yes. “How are you?”

You’ve adapted in Jimin’s mansion and had gotten your own room. It was luxurious and completely your own.

After the day with Jimin, you were told to keep the ribbon on until he specifically told you to take it off.

Looking Jimin in the eye was easier than you expected. He didn’t appear different or smug after having just fucked you. You assumed it was because he was accustomed to it already.

Looking Jin in the eye a week later is what frightens you.

“Y/N.”

“S-Sorry.” you had poured coffee onto the counters. You grab several napkins to clean it up, blinking away the thoughts.

“You seem so shaken up.” Jin places a hand onto your shoulder to grasp your attention. “Do you need me to find you a way out-”

“No.” you shake your head, turning to look at him. You swallow when you look into his eyes - the same dark eyes you’ve seen in your mind constantly.

“You don’t look good, Y/N. Is everything…alright?” Jin doesn’t want to dig deeper into what you’ve gone through the past week, unsure of where he should inject himself. “I don’t want you to get too deep into something that isn’t for you.”

You offer Jin a short smile.

“I’m…not a prostitute.” you murmur to Jin who nods - he knows that. Whatever you had to do while undercover was just that. He would never label you as such.

“Jimin…he keeps me around as his maid. So he says.” you admit. “Said I was…too good…to be a prostitute.”

Your body burns now with even more embarrassment. Jin’s ears are red and he nods his head. “I’m glad.” Jin admits, a part of him content that you wouldn’t have to be selling yourself for the sake of the case. He isn’t sure how to put what he feels into words at times, you note. “I just want you to be safe, Y/N.”

You continue to clean up your mess, your mind racing.

You were a detective - you’ve managed and solved several cases. You’ve gone undercover countless times.

And yet…

This was the straw that broke the camel's back?

You didn’t want things to be awkward between you and Jin as you still had a job to do at the end of the day. Yet, it was difficult being around him when you had to have him on your mind in order to sleep a little better at night; in order to not feel so shitty about yourself.

“I’m able to handle myself, Jin.” you murmur, pouring a few sugar packets into your coffee and grabbing a little straw to stir it. “Jimin doesn’t suspect that I’m nothing but a whore.”

“A maid.” Jin corrects, knitting his brows.

“Right.” you scoff. “A maid. There’s going to be a gathering this weekend at the mansion. I was told that several high-ranking individuals would be attending.”

Jin nods his head slowly as he processes the information.

“I don’t think the Ripper would be there, however.” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee and humming when it hits your throat. “He appears to be…an entity. People speak of him but no one’s ever seen him. I’ve asked a few women who work for Jimin-”

“Y/N, you have to be careful!” Jin interjects. “You’re the new girl there who managed to be a maid instead of a prostitute. You don’t think women are pining for your position?”

Your eyes connect with his and instantly, your mind replays you the events of the week prior - how content you felt being with him even if it wasn’t with him.

You take a deep breath before nodding your head. “You’re right.” you murmur. “I’ll be more careful.

Jin stands straighter. “Thank you.” he responds. “I do appreciate your dedication, Y/N. I don’t want to be so hard on you.”

You take another sip of your coffee after blowing on it a few times. “I can handle whatever you throw at me, Jin. I’ve worked alongside harsher men.” you place your cup back onto the counter and lean against it with crossed arms. “Back to the gathering. It’s being held in a neighboring town instead of Oakville.”

Jin furrows his brows. “Oh?”

“Yes.” you nod. “They never have any form of gatherings in Oakville incase of…you know, you.” you slowly grin his way. “Having so many people come to a small town suddenly raises questions that they don’t want to answer.”

Jin returns your grin - an act that causes the hairs on your arm to raise.

“Uh...I’ll give Daniel the details when I get them.” you avert your eyes to the ground. “I’m sure we can get the neighboring town police force in on what is happening and go forward with the raid that way?”

Jin nods his head. Without warning, he places a hand on your head. He pats it, almost as if he was patting a small child's head. Your head slowly turns toward him for answers. “Good job.” he chuckles, a twinkle in his eye. “I have to admit having you on the team has made my life a lot easier. No one has such great ideas as you do.”

Your heart begins to pump faster and mentally, you’re screaming at yourself to stop acting like such a pathetic little girl with a growing crush. This was nothing but an attraction for your lack of love and (former) sexual life. Maybe you craved attention you never got - not even as a child - so any form of it was making you weak.

Jin’s hand slowly slides from the top of your head down to your cheek. Your skin is even hotter, unaware of what to do in this situation.

“I’m always here, Y/N. If you ever need anything.” Jin assures, years ears perking at the sound of his voice that any background noise seemingly dies down. “Just ask and I’ll do my best to deliver.”

Your lips part and a shaky breath releases. You begin to nod your head at his words, swallowing down a gulp. His eyes are so intense and you couldn’t truly read them. They scan your face for any form of reaction, possibly reading right through the facade you’re attempting to put up.

“I want you to be safe, as well.” you testified, your hand placing over his - still resting on your cheek lazily. “You can call upon me, as well. If you need me to do anything while on the inside.

“Let’s catch the Ripper.” Jin hums, that familiar twinkle in his eye returning once hearing your words.

“Is this a gathering for important people?” you ask as you fix Jimin’s tie, your eyes fixed on the piece of fabric. “Or do you usually dress this way for them?”

Jimin’s attire has always been up to par, you’d admit. The suits he adorned were always tailored to fit him perfectly. You were advised to hand-wash his clothing and let them air dry before ironing them just the way he showed you how as he was specific about how he wanted his clothing to present him.

Jimin tilts his head just as you were done with his tie. “Is this your way of flirting with me?” he teases, a smirk forming onto his lips.

You take a deep breath and put on a smile that wouldn’t reach your eyes. You’d play nice for now for the case. You lightly tap his chest as that was the only response you were willing to give.

“It’s a gathering, yes. But also a meeting.” Jimin speaks, strolling towards a small, rectangular box in his bedroom and opening it. It’s where he kept most of his expensive watches. “We have a lot to discuss, Y/N.”

A meeting? Your mind racks through different ideas and possibilities - would the RIpper be at this meeting? Of course not, you think, most of his henchmen never even saw him in person and surely would not start now.

“You’ve been with me long enough to know the struggles we are facing, I assume.” Jimin places his watch onto his wrist as he speaks. “Our men are being arrested. Prostitutes not doing what I am paying them to.” he shakes his head. “It’s so hard to find decent help.”

You want to boast that you were the reason that the men in their “gang” were being arrested - thanks to you and Daniel. You had given information to Jin about whereabouts; when shipments would be coming and days where they would be causing havoc before it happened.

Prostitutes were escaping - also thanks to you - this lifestyle. Majority of them were young and had never spoken to anyone with positivity who encouraged them to be better. It wasn’t an easy task to do and you still had hundreds of women to speak with, but you were determined to do just that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” you tell Jimin, lying through your teeth. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

Jimin’s eyes flicker to you when you respond. He hums. “There is.” he says. “Just do as you’re told.”

You nod your head slowly, licking your lips.

The journey to your destination wasn’t a long one, only about an hour. You arrived alongside Jimin and a few men while the other remaining prostitutes arrived separately. You were surprised to find that the gathering would be held in what appears to be a theater. The inside is clean and pristine with high ceilings with such amazing white lighting that shines down on the bodies surrounding you. There’s rows upon rows of seating available, even ones upstairs in booths. The stage is right at the center, tall and grand and you ponder just how many theater performances have been right here.

“You,” Jimin catches your attention, placing a hand at the low of your back. “represent me, Y/N.”

You understood as such when Jimin had chosen your clothing - a dress that is entirely too long that you often find yourself nearly tripping if you weren’t so quick on your feet. It’s a dark maroon color to match that of his suit and for some odd reason, you adorn a corset that was tied by Jimin himself to shape your figure, it’s laced and tied behind your back.

“You’ll be serving us tonight.” Jimin begins to steer you away and into a room to the right. It’s a bar area where rows of drinks are set up ready to be served. “Just make sure people’s cups are full. Easy enough for you?”

You nod once more, eyeing the cups. You assume they’re wine mixed with more - something to have the girls and whatever attending this gathering be more loose. You cringe at the thought.

The night drags on and you do as you’re told, serving people as they mingle. You shouldn’t be surprised to see familiar faces - officers from other neighboring towns, high police officials and politicians alongside mayors. They all funded the Ripper - you’re unsure as to why but that didn’t stop you from collecting the desired intel needed. You had their faces and names locked deep in your mind, the case only growing larger.

Your eyes catch Daneil from across the theater. He’s sipping his own drink, looking around the same as you are. You ponder if he notices anyone familiar or something off about those who are attending.

The theater is loud with chatter and laughter, prostitutes being seated in the laps of powerful men. You take another deep breath.

“Excuse me,”

There’s a loud voice - Jimin’s - followed by clapping. He strolls onto the stage and makes a grand entrance that has you rolling your eyes.

“Y/N, please serve our guest the specialty wine of the night.”

You stand a little straighter as Jimin calls for you. You go into the backroom to find the wine he was speaking of. It’s a dark color of crimson on a medium sized silver platter. It took you longer than you desired, especially with the waiting eyes of the attendee’s around you, but once the last glass was full, you scurried off to the side.

“Thank you all for coming.” Jimin begins, his clapping together. “It’s been too long since we have been together. Just like old times.”

There’s a few murmurings of agreement.

“As you know, however, there's been a slight…inconvenience to our operation.” Jimin’s tone lowers and you assume he’s speaking of several of his men being arrested and the police force - that’s not involved with the Ripper - was zoning in on them.

“It’s nothing we cannot handle, surely.”

You turn to the sound of the voice - an officer. Maybe this is why they’ve never been caught before. Having officers on the inside was a smart move from such a sick man like the Ripper.

“As I thought.” Jimin nods. “However, we’re also losing our girls. With these men being arrested and charged every other day and whore’s leaving…”

You lick your lips, scoffing to yourself. This is what the gathering was about - trying to find ways to stop the decline of their operation?

“I have a shipment coming from out of the country.”

A shipment from out of the country…?

You gasp to yourself at the statement. The man was a mayor not from Oakville, but elsewhere. They were trafficking girls from outside the country - how they managed to do a thing, you’re unsure. The thought makes your skin crawl, your mind flashing of your past and what you had to endure alongside your “siblings”.

“That’ll help.” another member of this cult - because this couldn’t be anything but - has said. He has a girl seated in his lap as he speaks, his hand rubbing onto her thigh.

“It’ll help. But,” Jimin appears stoic. His eyes glance around the room as if in search of someone. “Let’s raise our glass and drink to the Brotherhood.”

As you expected. This was some sort of sick cult of elitists. The Ripper wasn’t the only sick individual as he was surrounded by much more.

“To the Brotherhood.” the surrounded men all state in unison. Your eyes meet Daniel’s once more and not that he had not lifted his cup to drink anything.

What comes next is what shocks you. As the men all take their drinks, it’s followed by sudden screeching. Chao’s ensues and you could only watch in horror as things began to go haywire.

Coughing and gagging are heard, followed by the screams of the prostitutes who all scurry away and surrounding one another. Several men fell to their knees and began to vomit their guts out, blood pooling from their noses.

“W-What-”

“There has been a traitor among us…”

That voice is different. It’s not Jimin’s, you note. It comes directly behind you all and it takes everything in you to not freeze in your stature.

A man, tall and covered from head to toe in dark clothing. His trenchcoat is black and leather and sways behind him as he trails down the carpeted stairs to reach the stage. He’s sporting a mask that covers his face entirely. It’s ghostly and adorns an expressionless expression.

“One of you,” the man says, coming even closer. “has betrayed me.”

It happens entirely too fast. He lunges at the prostitutes, a large dagger in his hand and manages to stab one directly in the heart. The other’s scream, crying to get away from his attack - but none of them manage.

It’s a shocking sight to behold - the men are slowly dying, obviously poisoned…by you.

You feel sick to your stomach having been a part of such a sick set up.

The Ripper is here.

Your eyes blink several times, as if trying to comprehend what you’re witnessing is true. He is so brutal in the way he murders the prostitutes without a care. They’re thrown around like ragdolls, being, blood seeping from such quick attacks upon their skin.

Your mind is racing, eyes darting all around the room. It was pure chaos - utter havoc. The screams only grow louder and louder.

“S-Stop!”

You found your voice, going to screech as loud as you can to grab the attention of the man. Your heart nearly stops when, ever so slowly, he turns towards you, knife raised. Crimson blood seeps off of it and drops onto the carpet.

You swallow, taking a step back when the man stalks towards you.

You’re unsure what you imagined yourself doing in a situation such as this, never truly expecting to be in it. You thought of ways of figuring out who the Ripper was and what you’d do if you ever came face to face with him - but now you appeared to cower.

You had witnessed a massacre right before your eyes. You were a part of it, having served these same people with poison.

“Y/N, what did I say earlier?” Jimin’s voice rings through your ears and before you could process anything, you’re being pushed harshly onto the ground. Your head nearly crashes against it but you catch yourself. “Just do as you’re told.”

You exhale a frightening breath, eyes slowly looking upwards at the man, knife clenches in his gloved hand. He’s looking down at you, almost as if waiting for you to react.

You weren’t a prostitute or a maid.

You were a detective.

You have trained for years to be where you were at.

You had come to Oakville to bring down such a horrid person - you couldn’t just lay here and cower.

It takes far more strength than expected, but neither of the two men - the Ripper and Jimin - were expecting you to react so quickly, or at all. You attack the man's legs, bringing him to the ground with you in an attempt to get the knife out of his hand.

Your hair is being pulled, yanked harshly. Your eyes clenched shut and your hands immediately clasp onto your hair. You can feel your body being dragged against the carpeted floor.

Your heart thumps, pounding into your ears. You couldn’t contain the low grunts coming from your lips, pain shooting throughout your body as you continue to be dragged so violently by the Ripper.

“Now why shouldn’t you be killed for your actions, Y/N?”

Jimin’s voice oozes with disappointment, like a superior upset with their students' actions as he steps off of the stage.

You were finally released and pushed aside roughly. Your head throbs but you whip it around to look at the tall man. You cannot see his eyes and they appear to be pitch black holes of nothingness staring right back at you.

Daniel is looking between Jimin and the Ripper, his own heart thumping in his chest and he’s visibly trembling. This is his first time meeting the man in person. He was stunned at the sudden appearance of the murderer slaining people in plain sight - only when you were in trouble did he snap back to reality. “S-Sir!” he speaks forward, stepping closer to where you three stood. “I-I can take her back to the-”

“Get the fuck out.”

You don’t blame Daniel for being terrified and you could only be upset with yourself if this is how you did die. You could only hope that Daniel wouldn’t meet the same fate.

Your chest heaves, your eyes fixed on the Ripper who seemingly is staring right back at you.

Daniel’s mouth shut once he heard Jimin’s stern tone. His eyes flicker to you onto the ground, trying your best not to cower away, but even he was frightened of what would happen to you if he left.

“Are you deaf or stupid?” Jimin snorts, shaking his head a bit. “Get the fuck out! Wait for us outside.”

You can hear footsteps scurrying away, going farther and farther, and yet your eyes never leave the ghoulish mask of the Ripper.

Jin, if you managed to make it out alive, was surely going to be upset with you. You had managed to come face to face with someone so heinous - and piss them off to the point that it might just lead you to your death.

“She’s a feisty one. I like her.” Jimin is leaning against the stage with his arms crossed. “She’s different….not a whore in the slightest.”

You swallow, your eyes remaining on the dark sockets of his mask. You didn’t want to give yourself away or appear suspicious.

What did Jimin mean that you weren’t a whore in the slightest? Did he know who you were - no. He couldn’t have. He would have gotten rid of you if he did.

Still, why keep you around if he knows you weren’t a part of this world? Just what was he planning on doing?

“What say you, Y/N?”

“Are you going to kill me?”

You didn’t waste any time. If you were going to die here, you’d make sure you had the chance to fight back.

“If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.” Jimin looks bored as this was not entertaining in the slightest. You and he stared at one another, as if daring the other to strike first - no one had. “You look determined to survive. How about this…we all love a little game.”

Your first clench at your sides. You weren’t in the mood to be toyed with - especially not when you’re at such a disadvantage.

“You make it out of here alive, Y/N…we pretend none of this ever happened, yeah?”

For the first time in who knows how long, you glanced at Jimin, the Ripper in the corner of your eye becoming a blurred figure.

“I’ll be making my leave…”

Jimin begins to stroll away, a strut in his walk.

“W-Wait!” you call, looking back at the Ripper. “Where are you-”

“I’m not going to be here. If you want to live, you’ll escape yourself. You know where to find me if you survive.”

You let out a low gasp as his footsteps clogged your mind, his words replaying over and over - and over again. Your eyes slowly turn back to the tall man a few feet away from you. It’s eerily silent, only the theater door opening and closing behind Jimin.

You were powerless and had not a weapon on you. Your mind races of ways to survive this. You were positive that if he didn’t want you dead then, by now he surely did.

You barely have a second to process when he suddenly lunges at you. You throw yourself to the side and manage to get onto your feet.

Your dress is entirely too long to function properly and you ponder if this was Jimin’s initial intention.

Your hands scrunch up the dress so you could run freely.

He’s swinging the knife as it slices the air close to you. You continue to dodge, finding that this would be the easiest option instead of trying to attack the man head on.

“You’re a coward!”

You hiss at the man after managing to dodge another attack, this time it slices at your side and fortunately slices the dress and not your skin.

“Attacking women because you cannot take on a man!”

Maybe it wasn’t smart to taunt someone hellbent on killing you - and if not killing you, at least hurting you. However, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction that you were frightened to your core at the disadvantage.

“I know men like you. I’ve dealt with men like you.”

You round a corner, a beam separating you and him. His attack stops and you’re met with his eyeless stare.

“Weak.” you spit, your hands clutching onto your dress for support. “You take your pathetic anger out on innocent women simply because your life is miserable. Were you rejected…maybe…”

Your breathing increases, determined to stay alive.

“...Mommy issues?”

The man attacks again, this time dropping his knife to come at you full force. You should have expected it and could only blame yourself when both of his gloved hands crashed onto your face. You’re forced backwards until your back hits against a wall.

Your hands punch along his chest - it’s broad, you note, a thought that he was a man of either great strength or smart enough to wear protection beneath his clothing.

You weren’t doing any damage to him and he gave you little room to do so. His body pressed against yours. Your face throbs beneath his clenching hands.

You wheeze when you’re pushed away, back slamming against the wall once more. Without warning, you’re turned around, your cheek now pressed to the cold, theater wall and his right hand clasp around your neck.

Your hand reaches back to attack him once more, an attempt to claw at him to release you.

No man should have strength like this - this was inhumane.

“Let…me…go…”

It was getting hard to breathe.

Your body tenses up when you feel him press up against you sickly, your mind going to the darkest possibilities of what he was going to do to you if you didn’t escape him.

“...fight me like a-”

His gloved hand reaches upward to clasp against your mouth while his free one grasps your waist harshly. You’re pulled from the wall and suddenly, slammed onto the ground. Your head crashes against the carpeted floor and before you could react, you feel pressure on top of you.

There’s a knife pointed to your throat, dangerously close. You can feel the cool tip prepared to slice against your skin.

“Hurry up and kill me.”

You weren’t going to give him what he wanted. It’s obvious that he wanted you to cower before him and beg for your life - but you weren’t.

If you were going to die, then so be it. But you would not feed into his ego.

The man tilts his head, eyeless sockets staring right at you.

The man comes closer to you, his masked face inches from yours.

You swallow, remaining whatever eye contact you could.

The knife pinches your skin a bit, trailing from your neck to your collarbone. It stings - but not the way you thought it would have. It feels more like a papercut slicing through delicate skin.

It pierces through the fabric of your dress, slicing ever so slowly - as if to taunt you. Your lower half is constricted, but your arms are free.

“Get off-” you hiss, your hands balling into fists and you throw a harsh jab at the masked cheek. It was just the amount of reaction you needed to kick him away from you, freeing yourself from beneath you.

You begin to crawl backwards, your eyes not leaving his figure as you struggle to get to your feet. Your breathing has increased tremendously. “Fuck you!” you spit, stumbling further away from him. You needed to grab a weapon - any weapon.

As you were rushing away to find said weapon, the masked man lifts himself up, knife gleaming in the lowlights of the theater.

You’re behind the bar now, grasping the largest bottle of alcohol you could find and hurling it at him, then another. The third bottle you grasps you slam against the large bar island, the sharp now being used as your own weapon. The excess alcohol splashes against you, but you don’t move your eyes from his.

You duck just as the man attacks, the knife swiping right above your head and with instinct, you thrust your own weapon towards him.

“Ah-!” you swing it once more and with each swing, the man dodges it. “Get,” swing. “away,” swing. “from me!” you scream, swinging once more, but the Ripper’s glove hand catches your wrist.

Your free hand is quick, however, grasping the nearest bottle and smashing it against the man's head.

The Ripper stumbles back, the alcohol shattering and the liquid staining his clothes.

You know well enough that the attack would only stun him, not fully halt him. You toss another, this one hitting him directly in his masked face.

Your eyes move around with great speed, wondering what you could do next - what weapon could be used upon him to save your life and the life of others.

Your eyes catch them, the small, square box of matches.

You swallow, your body moving before your brain could fully process what you were doing. Your hands are slippery as you grasp them, but you knew exactly what you were going to do.

You struck the match, the small flame illuminating against your face. Your eyes meet the Rippers eyeless ones and you tilt your head.

“I won’t allow you to kill anymore people.” you say to him, almost as if he would care what you would say to him.

You fling the match and, almost as in slow motion, does it fall onto the pile of alcohol behind the bar and directly in front of him.

The flames spark immediately and you attempt to make this your exit. You had no idea how long you’d have, especially with the flames growing larger and larger, but you understood that you had to make your way out somehow.

You’re positive that Jimin is long gone, having no hope of you ever making your way out alive.

The fire spread rapidly and quicker than expected was the entire scenery full of smoke. Your eyes begin to water and your throat clog up. All your ears could hear were the cracking of the flames surrounding you, unsure if this was your final moment alongside the Ripper - and if it truly was, then you couldn’t be upset with yourself.

You promised that you would stop the Ripper - that his reign in Oakville would come to an end. You promised Seokjin that his once quiet and safe town would return to just that, not realizing that your life would also be a part of that promise.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Your chest felt heavy, as if someone was seated right on top of you. Your head is pounding, an increasing pain at all angles that even with your eyes closed, it feels as if the room is spinning.

You were trying so desperately to open your eyes - to see what the fuck was going on like the voice was speaking.

“Y/N?”

Y/N.

The voice appears far away, like a distant echo. You recognize the voice - Seokjin.

Where were you?

Where was he?

Why was everything so dark?

Seokjin presses a hand to your shoulder, squeezing it gently as your eyes begin to flutter open, completely glossy and dazed. The oxygen mask clings onto you, assisting in your breathing.

“You’re finally awake.” Jin sighs, closing his eyes for a few moments. “Can you hear me, Y/N?”

You cough, as expected, and Jin waits for you for him to continue.

“Jin…” you cough once more, your eyes wandering around to where you were at. “...how-”

“Are you fucking insane, Y/N?!” Jin hisses, his once soft eyes now enraged. “I had to hear from Daniel that you came face to face with the Ripper?!”

Daniel.

Jimin.

The Ripper.

Your mind swirls with what happened. Where was Jimin? Had the Ripper survived the fire since you had - did he manage to escape?

“Jin.” you begin to lift yourself up from the bed and Jin shakes his head. “I-”

“You are not capable of going anywhere, Y/N! You’ve literally survived a fire!” Jin nearly screams.

“Where is he?” your throat is aching, but you had to know what was going on. “Where’s Jimin-”

“Gone.” Jin grits his teeth. “We…don’t need to worry about Jimin anymore, Y/N. Focus-”

“Gone?” your hands reach up at the hospital mask and you begin to lift it from your face. “Gone where? Has he been arrested or-”

“He was gone by the time we arrived, Y/N!” Jin doesn’t want to take out his frustrations upon you, but you were acting daft. His hands slap yours away from the oxygen mask and he places it back where it was once located. “Obviously he had no intention of you escaping the Ripper. Daniel told me as much as he knows.” Jin explains. “The theater is burned to the ground, Y/N. You’re lucky to even be alive.”

You inhale, the information clogging your brain.

Jimin was gone - as expected. Who else managed to escape?

“The Ripper…” you trail off.

“There wasn’t another body recovered in the fire.” Jin murmurs back, eyes blinking away. “And right now, Y/N, I don’t care about the Ripper.” he shakes his head. “You could’ve lost your life right then and there. I…”

Jin turns away from you and you understand that this would weigh on his shoulders. Your heart jolts at the thought of Jin and what guilt he may be feeling.

“I’m capable of taking care of myself, Jin.” you inhale. You could still hear the harsh cracking of the fire as it spread throughout the theater. “I did this for the case-”

“Fuck the case, Y/N!” Jin’s eyes turn back to you, dark ones staring right into your own. “I wouldn’t have cared if the Ripper was still alive and well as long as you made it out of there alive.”

Jin swallows, inhaling deeply.

“I don’t…I don’t want to blame you. It isn’t your fault, Y/N. You couldn’t have known but…” Jin blinks a few times, trying to find the words to say to you. “...I don’t want you on this case, anymore. It’s too risky and-”

“What?”

You look pathetic, barely able to raise your voice past a hoarse whisper.

“You’re off the case.” Jin repeats. “Don’t fight me on this, Y/N. I’m-”

“I’m not getting off the case. I-”

“I want you to stay in Oakville.” Jin interrupts, raising his voice to challenge your own. “I want you to stay here. With me.”

You swallow, throat aching for some water but all you could think about are Jin’s words at the moment.

“I want you to be safe.” Jin begins. “And I can only assure your safety if you’re here with me. Jimin is gone and the majority of the Ripper’s men have since been arrested.”

You sniffle, eyes roaming Jin’s face.

“I…”

“I won’t force you.” Jin shrugs his shoulders, a bit awkwardly. “I…have grown to like your company. I would like you by my side. Here. With me.” he murmurs, hoping that his words - as vague as they were - would have you understand what he truly wants from you. “I appreciate all that you’ve done for the case but now I just want you to fall back. Heal and-”

“I’ll stay.” you nod your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat; that or it was soot, who knows.

“Good.” Jin licks his lips. “Good.” he sighs in relief, glad that he didn’t have to fight too hard. You were a stubborn one and in a way, he likes it. Not when your life is put into a compromising situation, however.

As days dragged onto weeks and weeks dragged onto months, your mind can do nothing but wander to Jimin and how someone of his status could just disappear into thin air. The streets of Oakville were slowly returning to how Jin said they were once before - safe and homely. There was very little crime and death was at an all time minimum unless caused by natural causes.

The once ringing telephone in Jin’s office now laid silent most days and it was just as it was before, peaceful. You began to think that maybe the Ripper was truly gone; that Jimin would never return to Oakville as it was far too risky.

The Ripper’s name was uttered as something in the past - somewhat like a folktale. The town of Oakville now allowed the sun to shine bright above their small, happy town.

“Are you sure you don’t want to return to your own town?” Jin asks as he sets down your boxes onto the ground of his apartment. It’s labeled “kitchen”. “I don’t want to force you here with me.”

“Are you telling me you want me to go?” you tease, placing a smaller box on top of the one he sat down and cross your arms.

“Of course not.” Jin scoffs with a playful roll of his eyes. “I just don’t want to remove you from your home.”

“Oakville is my home now.” you uncross your arms to throw a jab at Jin’s side, an act that he dodges effortlessly, smooth hands grasping your wrist to bring you closer to him.

You’re unsure how you’d ever explain to someone how you and Jin got closer with one another after the death - or disappearance - of the Ripper. His admission to wanting you by his side was just the first (awkward) step. You working alongside him constantly was another step of you two getting closer, mixed with shy glances and awkward encounters in his home.

“What are you thinking about?” Jin questions, arms wrapped loosely around you. “And don’t say nothing, either. I know you.”

“Sure.” you scoff, but it was true. Jin did know when your mind was clouded with a thousand thoughts at once. “Jimin…”

“Ah, of course.” Jin rests his forehead against yours.

“You think I’m foolish to keep thinking about him, huh?” you snort.

“No, of course not. It’s in your nature.” Jin responds. “Jimin is like…an unsolved case to you. You’re fiending-”

You pinch Jin in the chest slightly and he yelps.

“Hey!” Jin flinches but chuckles heartily at your reaction. “It’s the truth! You’re just a determined detective.”

Jin squeezes you a bit. “It’s not your fault. I want to know where the bastard went, myself. But dwelling on it would only drive me insane.”

Jin leans his head back to scan your face. He inhales deeply, a smile slowly creeping onto his lips.

“I like to think Jimin met his demise. That he’s somewhere laying in a ditch. It’s easier to accept that he could still be out there in another town alive and well.”

“Ugh,” you groan and throw your head back. It’s easier for Jin to not care about things such as this - maybe it was because he was a man. Men tend to lack any form of sense.

Jin is quick to press his lips against your neck, plump lips kissing the spot he knows would be your sweet spot.

“Just forget about Jimin and everything else for now.” Jin murmurs.

“We’re supposed to redecorate…!”

“We have all week for that.” Jin exclaims. “It isn’t like there’s a lot of crime, Y/N.”

You hated when Jin was being logical. There was a lot of time on your hands as Oakville has become such a safe haven for the townspeople again.

“How about you,” Jin’s lips crash against yours to silence you and you’re only partially surprised. “mph, just go lock up downstairs and-”

“Ugh,” Jin groans but he knows you’re right. He has already told several officers that they could go home early. Business had really slowed the last few months. “fine.” he sighs. “Then we’ll pick up where we started?”

You nod your head, a glint in your eyes that has Jin excited.

Your eyes follow as Jin scurries out the door, his footsteps growing more faint with each passing step. You release a sigh, your body radiating heat.

“Let’s see what I can do while Jin is locking up.” you speak to yourself, eyes roaming to the array of boxes until your eyes catch one.

Jin had insisted that he move the boxes full of items you didn’t use into the attic. They’re filled with memorabilia mostly instead of day to day items.

You grab a chair to open the attic door to the ceiling, the stairs squeak as you drop them down onto the ground. A bit of dust catches your nostrils and instantly, you sneeze.

You grasp the box and begin to slowly ascend the attic stairs. It’s dark mostly, but your phone light is all you truly needed to not be completely creeped out by the scenery.

There’s already boxes up there - expected seeing as Jin did state he kept the area as storage. You place your box down on the ground and grasp your flashing phone from on top of it. You scan the area, not finding anything out of the ordinary. There’s rows of boxes all closed and on top of one another, your camera finding that there’s an insane amount of dust covering the top of it that indicates that neither of them has been opened in years.

Though, your eyes catch a chest that is the only item inside the attic that isn’t covered in dust and grime and you hum. Your feet stroll towards the chest, kneeling down to shine your flashlight right at it. It’s wooden and a mahogany color, the top drawer slightly cracked open.

Your free hand pulls at the drawer to open, shining the light inside. It’s nearly empty, aside for a few pieces of jewelry, you note, and what appears to be picture’s facing down.

“Is this an invasion of privacy…?” you ask yourself but your hand grabs at the pictures either way.

They’re old pictures and now you think they're of Jin in his youth. Your eyes scan each passing photo, more and more children coming into each frame.

Your eyes stop at one in particular, dozen of children standing in front of what appears to be a warehouse-like building.

Your eyes blink a few times before squinting.

“What…?” you murmur, orbs staring at a familiar face of you, right in the corner of said picture. You recall the exact outfit you wore that day, covered in mud and grime.

You swallow, slamming the picture down into the drawer. Your heart is pounding and your head is swirling with far too many emotions to count.

Your eyes catch onto the next photo and your heart sinks at who.

Jimin.

Jimin and Jin.

They’re young - possibly teenage years. However, they’re both smiling ear to ear with arms wrapped around the other’s shoulder.

Your breathing increases.

“Jin…”

Your ears hear him - Jin. He isn’t home yet, however he will be. He’s just down the hall and you sprint out of the attic. Your nerves are causing you to shake violently and you’re truly unaware how you managed to close the attic door and put the chair back to where it belonged as he entered.

“I’m back. Do you think we should order a…” Jin’s eyes turn to you and instantly, he freezes. “...pizza...? Is something…wrong?” He tries to laugh but nothing is amusing.

“Huh?” you try to sound unfazed, but you know you look as though you’ve just seen a ghost.

“Is everything okay?” Jin steps closer to you and without thinking, you step back.

“Yeah.” you nod your head. You touch your forehead with the back of your hand. “I’m…just feeling tired.” you lie. “And…hot. I need a-”

“Y/N.” Jin takes another step forward and with each step, you take one back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You swallow.

Jin and Jimin knew one another. They were friends the least.

Jin knows you - for fuck sakes you knew Jin. You’ve blocked out your past life as much as you can that you completely forgot your ‘brothers and sisters’ and now Jin stands before you, reminding you everything of the past life you wished to keep behind you.

“Y/N.” Jin repeated, this time his voice was deeper and more stern.

“How did you know where to find me?” you ask Jin. “When…the fire broke out?”

“Daniel told me.” Jin responds with a tilt of his head. “Is something wrong?”

“How did you know I fought the Ripper?” you question. “Daniel wouldn’t have known. He wasn’t in the theater with me.”

Jin is silent and only his heady eyes are watching you.

“Is there something you want to ask me, Y/N?” Jin stands straighter. “Go out and ask. Don’t jump through useless questions.”

You want to ask Jin what was truly on your mind - you were just afraid of the response.

“Why…how do you know me?”

“That’s your question?” Jin scoffs. “You’ve been in the attic, have you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…like a person who’s been shown the truth.”

“Stop coming closer.”

“Why?” Jin doesn’t listen and he slowly steps closer to you. “Are you afraid of me, Y/N?”

“Stop.” your teeth grit.

“Ask me what you want to know, Y/N. I’ll answer you truthfully.”

You have nowhere to run without him easily catching you. Your heart was beating so loud that it was getting hard to focus.

“You…you’re him.” you shake your head in near disbelief.

“Are you upset with me, Y/N? Do you look at me differently because…I was the Ripper?”

You release a choke gasp of disbelief.

“You tried to kill me!” your back hits a wall and you curse at your own bad decisions. “You-”

“I could’ve gutted you a long time ago!” Jin suddenly roars - one so loud that it echoes off of the walls. He stomps towards you. “I could’ve had your blood seeping through these floors the same night you came.”

Jin slams his hands on either side of your face against the walls.

“I could’ve killed you that night you presented yourself for Jimin so willingly…for me so willingly.”

“What…?”

“I knew you and I were meant for one another right then and there, Y/N. When you said you would be thinking of me while giving yourself to another man.”

Your night with Jimin was another night you would rather forget and often block out.

“I don’t…I-I don’t understand-”

“You don’t think it was Jimin who fucked you, right?” Jin scoffs with a shake of his head. He looks so different. His eyes…they were so cold and deranged. So distant.

Your stomach churns at Jin’s words.

“You’re as strong as I remember you were. You fought me the entire time at the theater. I wasn’t expecting you to be so dumb and cause a fire.” Jin shakes his head with a low tsk. “I had to get the both of us out of there before anything happened.”

Your hands, as rough as they could, shove along his chest to get him away from you.

“Get the fuck away from me!” you hiss, eyes blurred with hot tears.

“You’re being rash, now, Y/N.” Jin spit. “Don’t let this ruin us.”

“You’re a murderer!” you hiss, your eyes viewing Jin as he was; the Ripper.

“And you’re any better, Y/N?” Jin laughs. “Or does it not count because it was just a bit of poison?”

Your eyes widened at Jin’s words.

Your fist clench - another memory unblocked.

“I didn’t…you and Jimin and-”

“If anything, you were an accessory. You caused the fire that got rid of all the evidence, baby.” Jin shrugs his shoulders. “You’re just as bad as me. Get off your fucking high horse.”

“No.” you shake your head.

“Yes.” Jin scoffs. “The Ripper is dead, Y/N. I killed that part of me so that you and I can be together. Don’t you get that!”

Jin is quick in his movement, snatching your shoulders and forcing you to look at him.

“The Ripper is dead. Kim Seokjin is not.” Jin grits his teeth, appearing utterly deranged. “You and I can be a family again, Y/N. Eventually you’ll come around to Jimin, too.”

“You know where Jimin is?”

“Of course I do.” Jin smiles. “Jimin is my brother. Our brother.” he murmurs. “We all went down different paths but we’re together again. The Ripper was just a phase that I’ve gotten over.”

You didn’t know Jin - not as much as you thought you had. These eyes weren’t the eyes of the Jin you were growing to love. He didn’t look as kind and soft; his eyes were different. They dance with insanity as he speaks.

“You aren’t going to leave me again, right?” Jin watches you intensely. “I'd hate to have to kill the both of us, Y/N. But if that’s what you want.”

You stiffen, your ears not believing what they were hearing.

“We can pretend you never found out about the past and go back to what we were doing.” Jin’s hands begin to sooth you, rubbing along your shoulders. “We can order pizza and do what we normally do.”

You feel the tear drop onto your cheek before you realize you’re crying. You’re unsure of what to say or how to respond to this new information - you’re left with more questions than answers; questions you’re far too afraid to truly grasp.

“Or…I kill you. Then myself.” Jin shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t let your emotions get in the way of our love, baby.”

halloween masterlist

#trivia:yandere #trivia-yandere #btswritingcafe #bts smut #bangtanwriters net #btswriterscollective #btswritersclub #bangtanwritershq #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #autumn of terror #yandere bts #bts yandere #jin smut #trivia-yandere's halloween masterlist #explicit-tae

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briseroyawritingsblog · 1 month ago

Text

𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒕!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. this is based in 2051, living in the future, kissing, new feelings (reader & Lo), alcohol consumption, protected sex, riding, missionary, fluff, etc.

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

diver by @anitalenia 🤍

There was hardly any difference between humans and robots. In fact, humans were scared to go out in sheer daylight. The government– used humans brains to make robots be it for work, or different things like soldiers. DNA was stolen, and given away for experiments. Human kind was slowly enslaved the end of the world was approaching. So you were born.. your brain was made mostly out of wires but you looked like a human. Your body temperature was warm just like human. Your hair was thick and long and you were aware that you were alive. You were programmed to work for people who would hire you. You completed basic tasks like cooking, cleaning and babysitting children. You were a perfect example of a housewife— you were made to do these things. Of course instead of having a human heart and brain you had adamantium in you. Your eyes were different they were pitch black sclera. You had a dainty very womanly hands– nails painted in purple. Your lips were glossy, your white pearly teeth shined like diamonds. Your cheeks looked like they were blushing. You had so many skills, you loved being you. Everything about you was amazing.. even the strength you possessed. Your features resembled a young female, maybe in her early twenties. Before you left for work, you packed a suitcase. Set of uniforms and you were given clothes.

“She’s all yours. Your contract ends in two months.” The man who brought you to your new place, shook hands with someone named Logan and left you. Logan grabbed the envelope and turned you on, by touching your hand. Your eyes fluttered open and you smiled softly– eyelashes so big they were touching your eyelids.

“Hi” you greeted him.

“Hi..” he mumbled back observing you. His eyes taking in your beauty.

“What can I do for you.” You looked around the apartment, slowly walking to the window.

“I don’t know.. you tell me.” He sighed softly pouring himself a glass of whiskey. Your brain automatically told you that drinking is hazardous.

“Well..I can start by cleaning for you. Where should I begin?” You cheered scanning the apartment grabbing the clothes from the sofa.

“If that’s what you want..” His words trailed off slowly, gazing at your every move. You cleaned so well.. by seconds you were washing the dishes. The next moment you were folding his laundry, the next moment you dusted in the living room.

“Well.. you’re fuckin’ made for this kid” he opened the annual you came with. Things were written down how to control you– and how to turn you off and charge you during the nights.

“I didn’t know you require to sleep.” A slight wonder painted his features.

“I do Sir. Full eight hours.” You responded wiping down the counter, moving onto the bathroom to clean.

“No wait.. ugh” Logan was about to stop you but you already started to spray the surfaces and wiping everything down.

“You didn’t have to clean up here too..” taking in your appearance again he noticed how swiftly you handled everything. The sink was covered in blood, he had a little shooting accident and forgot to clean up. His whole apartment was a mess and now it was sparkling clean.

Leaning in the bathroom doorway with the annual book in his hand, reading about rules and resets. Blinking you stopped observing the tiles, stepping inside the bathtub you scrubbed them clean.

“Yeah.. c’on kid you don’t have to do that” slight nervousness washed over his features as he watched you.

“Sir. I’m programmed to complete everything once I start cleaning it.” You responded and he rolled his eyes.

“Knock yourself out. I’m gonna hit the bar” shrugging he threw the annual on the couch and grabbed his jacket.

“Have a nice time sir!” You cheered again.

By the time he returned you had the floors polished too, every corner of his apartment sparkly clean. His bedsheets ironed, the guest room prepared for your stay. Currently you were cooking dinner– you didn’t know what he liked but you did throw out two pizza boxes so you knew the kitchen was not really used for cooking. Having an excellent sense of smell, was one of your characteristics just like humans had. You were not able to taste the food yourself but you made sure it’s very well seasoned. Did you had the groceries delivered to you? Yes you did. Hearing the key lock you straightened your apron and walked to the door to greet him but you were only greeted with a growl. “What is the matter?” You asked, your system telling you that he is injured all over the chest. “Sir!” You followed him to the bathroom watching him stand over the sink removing his jacket finding out the red liquid littered all over his chest was something called ‘blood’ hearing him growl in pain using his strength to push out the bullets which fell into the sink you touched his shoulder. “Can I give you assistance sir?” You asked him, seeing his demeanour shift features softening. “Take a seat” running your hands over the cabinets using your special feature to locate the first aid kit you heard him sink into the couch with a painful sigh.

“Hey kid.. I’m healing alright? It’s not needed.” Putting the first aid kit down you approached him again sitting down next to him zooming in onto his chest seeing the little wounds heal away. Zooming back out you suggested to have dinner.

He shook his head. “I just wanna fuckin sleep. How about later?” You were not able to tell but you felt some kind of different emotion cloud your system. It was different– usually you were not able to tell what you felt but today it felt like sadness. “Of course Sir.” You returned back to kitchen– it was bizarre that you even felt something. After Logan napped, you were sitting next to him waiting patiently. Even though it was after midnight– seeing him wake up you greeted him

“Can I make you a cup of coffee Sir?” Logan sat up eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Why are you awake? I thought you needed your eight hours of sleep?” Your features resembled a small smile

“You didn’t put me to sleep Sir…”. Grabbing the annual in his hand again turning the pages quickly he groaned. “I haven’t finished reading this.. look I’m sorry. I will do better” your system was telling you he felt regret. It was amazing you were able to recognise his human feelings but you weren’t nearby ready to feel something yourself it was surprising “It’s totally okay sir.” Making him a cup of coffee while he read the annual he sipped on it. He looked so focused, as he turned to the next page— he stopped. The page was pink with hearts all over it.

“Love mode?” He raised a brow giving you a look you didn’t manage to recognise. But it was between surprised and confused for sure.

“I didn’t quite get that Sir? Most of the robots like myself.. do have love mode.” Tilting your head to take a peek at the page he closed the book.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to activate it.” He responded taking a sip of his coffee.

“Why not Sir? It’s completely safe.” You smile at him.

“I will try my hardest to satisfy your needs.”

“Oh really? My needs?”

You nodded “Of course.”

“Did anyone ever used it on you?” Curiosity rose in his voice. Your response was simple

“No Sir. I am mostly used for cooking, cleaning, and household work…I’m excellent with children.”

Logan raised a brow again “Pretty little thing like you? Just— ugh I’m sorry..” he trailed off.

A smile rose to your cheeks “Yes Sir. That’s what I’m made for” the answer alone was fair enough but he let out a soft sigh. “Right– let’s get you to sleep” offering his hand you gladly took it. It was amazing that your body temperature automatically resembled his the moment of contact. You were something extraordinary– both walking to the guest room you grabbed your pyjama. “Just a moment.” He cleared his throat turning away from you whilst you changed your uniform throwing the worn clothes in the laundry basket. Logan did take a peek at your body, human… goddamn you were all human— the curves of your body were inviting even your naked butt was nothing compared to robots. Pulling out a wire from the back of your neck turning around to face him. “I’m ready Sir. Is there anything I can do for you before resting?” Logan shook his head slowly. “No.. thank you..” he stepped closer to you. Your system was reading his face and there was softness in his expression. Maybe a hint of lust. “Sir did you look at me whilst I changed?” Logan felt embarrassment heat in his face. “I did.” You smiled. “Would you wish to turn on the love mode?” He groaned at your question. “No, I promise you I won’t touch you” he stood his ground. Nodding softly you rested yourself on the bed. Closing your eyes as he set your body to charge. —

Walking to the kitchen stretching his arms he saw how clean it was. Opening the cabinets were stocked— “what?” he furrowed his eyebrows together, refrigerator was full too. Meals prepared, labelled, and even dates written on them. “Did she mealprepped too?” Asking himself reading through the labels. The meals looked very nutritious, very healthy. Looking at the door he had beers stocked alphabetically, even sodas too. Everything set by colour and flavour. Closing his eyes he sighed softly. How could he even live like this for the next two months? And after what? He’d have to rent someone again? Natural struggles like this. Maybe you were to teach him how to live like a human being. The moment in the guest room repeated at the back of his mind, how could he be attracted to a female robot. A machine with no feelings? Was there something wrong with him? He was telling himself that he’s an idiot. Mentally stabbing himself with his claws. Closing the refrigerator after grabbing himself a beer and the opening drawers. The utensils shined, the plates too. The dishwasher was empty and everything neatly put away. He felt satisfied but also..felt bad. He wanted to do this stuff too.. have a proper home. He missed having someone doing it for him maybe having dinners with someone. Charles used to tell him to give this ‘home’ a chance. But how could he? Every love of his life was now deceased. Everyone was just gone— perhaps you could make it all go away. Maybe he was losing his mind after all… he had nothing to lose anymore.

Switching off the lights he sat on the couch again opening the annual. What was love mode?

It peaked his interests, how could possibly a robot satisfy someone? As he read further his eyes widened. Love mode allows the synth, replicate human emotions, such as touch, feelings, desires and needs– it was possible? Leaning to his right he gazed to the guest room seeing you asleep on the bed. Pushing the thoughts away, he gulped on his beer before switching on the flat screen. The news were on, and it was possible to purchase a robot too. If the two month contract would end.. he’d have to hire someone new again or rehire you again. And again, and again. Maybe purchasing you and owning you would be a better idea.. giving you a home. You were constantly rehired and brought to different homes. Like this you could stay with him until the end of time—

Days were long, Logan worked during the week and you were mostly at his apartment making sure everything is clean. You’d take his mail, pick up his calls. Standing by the window seeing the advertisements of your face on the buildings— you were getting warnings that the weather might get even worse. So you decided to call Logan

“Sir, the weather is-” you started and Logan sighed.

“I don’t have time to pick up your calls. It’s just a storm, do not call me to work.”

“But Sir” the line got dead and your system told you he disconnected the line.

Taking an umbrella you left his apartment. Wearing one of his jackets and a hood over your head. You were immune to water or rain it didn’t matter you were allowed to go outside but not alone. Calculating the location of his workplace, you walked until you reached his office. Telling the receptionist you were to see Logan she directed you to his office.

“What are you doing here?” Alarming look on his face told you that he was nothing but worried.

“Umbrella. You needed one Sir– I am programmed to keep you safe and attend all of your needs.” Logan furrowed his eyebrows together feeling his heart skip a beat. Your black eyes lowered to his pulse you could read his heart rate. It was picking up spiking higher than usual. “Sir.. are you alright?” He nodded slowly. He never had someone take care of him or worry for him. Emotions— he felt so many being in your presence and god you would never know how he really felt. Would you?

“Stay here. I have one more meeting and then we can go home.” He told you motioning you to sit down at his office chair and you did as he wished. After a long day and a drive home in complete silence you didn’t make an eye contact with him. You couldn’t read any of his emotions anymore— as if he built this indestructible wall around his feelings protecting himself…after you both entered his apartment he told you he needed a shower.

“Would you like me to warm some dinner for you sir?” You suggested and he nodded “Yes. You can leave it on the table, and brew me some coffee please I will work in my home office.” You nodded. “The coffee is freshly brewed and sweetened sir.” Straightening your ironed apron you warmed up his dinner and did everything he wanted. Hearing the shower running and seeing the door is partly open you wondered how it felt standing beneath warm cascading water. Humans.. they were complex weren’t they?

Standing straight by the kitchen counter you replayed the memories of your first meeting with Mr Howlett. Until he walked out the bathroom having a towel around his waist. You followed after him.

“Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

Upon entering you saw him dry his hair.

“Can I help you dress?”

“No, kid. You’re doing way too much around here.”

“Sir.”

“Can I pick fresh pyjamas for you? I ironed them.”

“Knock yourself out, princess”

“But first can I dry you off, there’s water dripping off your body”

“I don’t think that’s appropriate.” He groaned softly. Oh he wanted it; he wanted you close. He wanted you to dress him, feed him, and be his little housewife. It has been four weeks and he couldn’t deny it anymore.

“Sir? Would you like me to turn on the love mode for you?”

You asked taking a new towel to pat dry his chest.

“Yes.”

— Love mode activated. —

“Please pick percentage for my feelings for you sir” as you dried off his body, logan wondered if this was a good decision.

“75%”

Your system programmed your feelings to 75% percent to his wish.

“Choose the percentage for my affection for you sir”

“80%”

Logan watched you slowly dry every drop off his chest gracefully holding that towel.

“Choose the percentage for my lust sir”

“90%”

“You’ve successfully activated your love mode. It has been saved and now you can use me to satisfy your needs” as you said those words Logan watched your face changing. Your lips got glossier, your cheeks reddened and your eyes hooded. That’s how it worked.. you became even more beautiful, maybe in a sexiest ways possible. So alluring.. so inviting no man could ever refuse you

Logan cupped your cheek. You dropped the towel, your own hands started to wander over his naked chest exploring his toned abdomen. Pushing him on the bed slowly so he landed on his back you climbed on top of him. Opening his towel. Your fingers touching his erection, slowly. Thumb circling the pink swollen tip. “Do we have protection sir?” Logan nodded. “Yeah.. I do” his breathing hitched as you cupped his growing aching cock. Reaching in his bedside table he pulled protection, a condom. You let out a small moan as you started to roll the condom over his cock. He watched you— you became so different with the love mode and his desire for you was deepening. He couldn’t hide it, you were everything that he ever wanted. Taking care of him so well. “Take it off..” he whispered eyes hooded with lust. Undoing your apron, then your maid dress your naked body was revealed to him. Your pussy looked so small. He tested your folds and you closed your eyes releasing a soft moan. “You were made for this weren’t you princess? Your pussy is moist. How can that even happen” he breathed sliding a finger between your folds. “Fuck..” he cursed eyes glued to your perky breasts. God your nipples were hardened, and peaked so beautifully. Just like an ordinary female “I was made for you Sir..” you lustfully breathed but before you sank down on his protected cock he flipped you over so he was on top of you. “Please Sir.. use me. I can make it all go away.. I’m yours” you spoke softly observing his protected cock. Logan lowered himself on top of you completely, your hands caressed the small of his back as he slowly found your perfect pussy and inserted his cock right inside of you.

— Love overdrive —

“Mmmm!” Your cute little moan was everything that he ever wanted to her before he snapped his hips into you. Your little whimpers and moans only spurred him on “needy little thing aren’t you bub? love mode? you were made for this cock” you nodded rapidly sliding your arms around him and your thighs around his hips. “Yes sir, made for you and your cock” repeating his words your glossy lips remained parted and moans flowing out. Your pussy is being filled and repeatedly and you never experienced love mode. It was your first time. The creamy substance which coated his protected cock was your own lubrication even though you were created only to satisfy his needs, you felt like a human. “Kiss me..” holding the back of his hair as he nuzzled his face between your breasts harshly breathing he slid his large arm behind your neck slightly prodding you up towards his lips. His mouth connected to yours in a soft kiss and you closed your eyes at the experience, clinging your whole body around him. His tongue brushed over your bottom lip and your moans only increased in volume clouding his mind making him love struck. His heartbeat spiked, as he needily rolled his hips against yours putting all of his cock in and you barely withdrawing and moving back in again. Your system was pink, your vision was pink the whole while as you made love. “I love you Sir..” you mumbled against his lips and Logan growled out “You love me huh? Perfect little thing, but fuck I love you too” he watched your perfect breasts bounce to his thrusts until he flipped you right back. You were on top of him his cock buried right inside of you. Your small hands lying flat on his chest, biting your lower lip you started to bounce on his cock. Throwing your head back, your long wavy curls covering your back and logan seized your waist in his large palms exploring your breasts listening to your moans and whimpers as you took all of his length. “Shit.. I- fuck.. I’m gonna..” he gasped for breath as you rose up and down his length making sure you nestled him right in you, your hips picked up the speed as you bounced faster letting him grope your breasts letting out the loudest growls you have ever heard. Those growls were followed by soft moans as he halted your hips bucking up into you reaching his high letting out a breathless whimper. “Fuck.. ughhhh..” you cooed cupping his cheeks leaning down to give him a soft kiss and he responded softly. Sliding out of you slowly he rolled on top of you planting soft kisses on your glossy lips and you watched him dispose the use condom. You were so much at all at once that he couldn’t last as long as he planned with you. “Would you like me to switch off the love mode, sir?” Logan shook his head slowly. “No.. please.” A smile greeted your face and your hands entwined, your fingers joining. “Would you like me to run you a bath sir?” You asked him gazing up at him. “I’m exhausted..” he whispered. Noticing how your expression changed again, it was back to normal yet that hint of love remained. “Sleep Sir..” you kissed his lips watching him then roll over to the empty side immediately passing out. It was only natural that men needed sleep after sex, and you understood that so you left his bed and collected your clothes. After cleaning up in the bathroom like a woman supposed to do, your system was telling you to do it. With a damp cloth— then you changed into your pyjama getting your needed rest too charging up for the next day. Your memory replayed before sleeping, it was more then satisfying.

for both of you.

this is complete work of fiction, any mistakes typos I apologise in advance.

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