#fingers crossed the tags work today
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⚖️ 𝐇𝐄𝐃𝐘 -`. fo(tv) • 🥂 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀 “𝐃𝐎𝐓” fo(tv)
🩺 𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 -`. fo3 • 💄 𝐀𝐍𝐀 -`. fo4
🌞 𝐂𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐀 -`. the witcher • 🌌 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 -`. asoiaf
🐇 𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐀 -`. bg3 • 🐦⬛ 𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐀 -`. vtm
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 @marivenah, @rhettsabbott, @kyber-infinitygems, @crownrots, @loriane-elmuerto, @risingsh0t and @a-treides to use this 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰!! ty sm!!
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆:
@girliefailure, @bloodofvalyria, @shadowsofrose, @hartsvale, @jendoe
@queennymeria, @faerune, @rosenfey, @grapecaseschoices, @griffin-wood
@carlosoliveiraa, @aezyrraeshh, @avallachs, @florbelles, @unholymilf
@katsigian, @hookhearted, @theelderhazelnut, @rolangf, @shellibisshe
@loriane-elmuerto, @jennystahl, @roberthouse69, @lavampira, @celticwoman
@aceghosts, @imogenkol, @zevlor, @vanoefucks, @shadowglens
@confidentandgood, @adelaidedrubman, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @full---ofstarlight and you!!
#only if you want to of course!! 🥀💌🍄#oc: hedy hassan#oc: dot van doren#oc: yelena voronin#return of the DEARIEE <33 🥀🥹#oc: ana azarin#oc: cythia vassermiller#beloved brainworm <33#oc: daella dayne#oc: tissaia thorm#baby babiest 🥀💌🤧🥹#oc: irina rurik#leg.ocs#leg.tagged#feeling rather ill today so time to catch up on things !!!!! <3 🥀💌#(goldfish brain for this one as i forgot this in my drafts sijzjxhz but anyway!! hard launching dot and daella and hedy and ana!!!! 💕)#hedy and daella are available btw hehee 🥀💌#(as love interests or as besties !!!!!)#i am stil veeery working on the backstories for hedy and dot but fallclown brainworms are in FULL swing to be sure 🥀💌😵💫☺️ !!!!!#but daella is the daughter of THE!! arthur d*ayne <3#her mother was a scion of the houses of vilemyr aka the remnant houses of v*alyria in my canon#that i cannot wait to yell about more !!!!!#thinking of the vtm clowns hehe again so there’s dearie dear irina <33#thank you thank youu sm for the tag dears this was so cute to do!! 🥀💌#fingers crossed the tags work 🥀🤧 !!
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goooood morning + happy thursday friendz ! we are almost to the weekend yipeeee ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و i hope you find something to make you smile today and remember your blorbos and i are cheering you on ! ෆ
#everyone cross your fingers and toes i’m able to leave work early today !#i have a trip this weekend and i literally just realized i have to pack sooooo . .#whoopsies.#i queued up a fic for later & if it doesn’t go in the tags . . gg (>_<) !#i’m going to finish the mootie sleepover today (i’m so sorry it’s been delayed cries . it’s been a hectic week!!!)#giving you all an extra smooch#i hope you all have a wonderful day !!!#sending out all the love ‹𝟥#ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ — ✩ daily yap.#<- updated the tag finally :’)#₊˚⊹ ᰔ xoxo aims
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#i'm procrastinating rewriting the last scene in the fic because i miss the show#(or rather because i'm going through mother superion withdrawal syndrome)#and so i have been deep diving in the mother superion tag#the sheer AUDACITY some people have in suggesting suzanne is straight??? why do you insult her and me like this#dni block me please and thanks#(gays i'm joking. i mean i'm not because i might block y'all het!suzanne heathens but anyway LOL)#(just to make sure: i AM joking but i also AM surprised)#(and tbqh i do not want to see it ever again ksjfhskjdfk y'all have fun just keep away)#silly blabbering#anyway my VERY LESBIAN suzanne and her equally lesbian scientist are almost ready to be unleashed on the world#last scene should be done between today and tomorrow if i'm lucky#then i'm taking a wee break because a friend is coming over for a few days#but i'll hopefully have begun typing by the end of the week after rereading again#my estimates aren't perfect but i'm guessing maybe next week or on the other this thing gets published#so fingers crossed. might disappear for a little while after that too because posting shit makes me nervous lol#but then i'll be back for some of the analysis stuff i had planned. give it some time before i start work on the second docsuperion fic#(which will be shorter)
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happy saturday honey buns!! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა i hope your day is spent w ppl & hobbies you love!! im squeezin you extra this morning!! (◍˃ ᵕ ˂◍) ily so so so much!!! <33
#ᕱ⑅ᕱ.* journals!#ooo whats this??? new tags??? :O damn who is she??? ໒꒰ྀི∩˃ ᵕ ˂∩꒱ྀི১ hehee!!#im a lone bun today at work so im hoping its not too crazy today! ໒꒰ྀི´• ˕ •` ꒱ྀིა fingers crossed it goes smoothly!!#im gonna try & get ready so quick so i can have time to make coffee before i leave!!! :3 i’ll talk to you guys in a lil bit!! MWAH!!
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#gonna over share in the tags like I like to do#had a difficult appointment today but hopefully gets me one step closer to some physical therapy that I really need#like I really really need it#so fingers crossed it works out#but yeah it was a really stressful day but I did it and now I’m just struggling to relax#I want to use my brain for analysing Taylor Swift lyrics not doing real life difficult stuff#but alas#❤️❤️ for anyone who bothered to read this I hope u have a good day
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#i ran out of tags on the last post AJSJSJS#SO i cant close my eye or use my mouth as well as i normally can and my eye hurts like a bitch#dr gave me 1) a second round of antibiotics 2) swimmer’s ear meds which my parents had to pay for out of pocket (like $90!!!)#3) steroids for the paralysis 4) yeast infection meds bc last time i got one#5) artificial tears to keep my eye nice n lubed up since it can’t CLOSE#so now i’m all full of meds that are making my stomach hurt a fuck ton and fucking with my appetite and making me hot and flushed and angry#i can’t see super well and i cant hear out of the one ear literally at all so stuff like retail job and lab work with classmates are hard#i’m exhausted and sick and have no motivation for schoolwork which I already was struggling w as a result of autistic burnout and PDA#i also do think that this is a hilarious set of unfortunate circumstances and yesterday i was very giggly abt it but today i’m just pissed#i can’t sleep well under the best of circumstances and tonight i rly cant#i tried to go to bed early bc i’m so tired and i need to force myself to go to classes tomorrow since i’ve been skipping a lot of them#my profs know abt the issues btw but :))) academia is hell if you’re at all sick or disabled or having mental health problems or whatever#no room for flexibility or adaptation in my experience#anyway i just wanted to vent for a while!!!#i am not in danger or anything and i’m not a threat to myself or others or anything scary#just frustrated and sick#the paralysis should go away within weeks to months 🙃#for some people it never goes away 🙃#so fingers crossed#but i am thankful to have meds readily accessible even tho they’re expensive and stupid#that’s all!! time to put my sleep mask back on and try to pass out#i tried taping my eye shut per doc recommendation but it wouldn’t stick#💃🏼💃🏼💃🏼
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#my sincerest apologies that these are her gym leaders
jokes on you dawn LOVES the gym leaders and they're the closest thing to family she's ever known ;-;
#👻 ooc.#that reply w that tag knocked me out. i love sinnoh so much they truly r the best and i will not listen to slander#crossing my fingers that work stays broken again today so i can do replies and also maybe nap. yall kill me out here
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Family photo!! This is my goodnight post, ily guys!! See ya tomorrow!
#i get to see a friend I haven't seen for a whole month finally tomorrow#its gonna be awesome#he's actually the guy who triggered my spiderverse phase because he took me to see the movie#and now he's gonna have to deal with the consequences of that when we finally catch up#eheheheheheh#i still have the movie ticket#i use it ad a bookmark in my spiderverse art books#i plan on getting a proper bookmark tomorrow (fingers crossed i can find it)#I'm kinda spamming long tags because i have a horrible confession#that involves cereal#but you're gonna have to wait just a teeenyyy tiiinnyy bit more#so#let me tell you what I've done so far today#i did dishes! I washed my counters and stovetop#and i did some character sketches#and experimenting with coloring styles in both traditional and digital art#(but i cant share them yet because I'm not done them. theyre in gift art for my friends :3)#I might actually sell the ocs I've been making lately because i have absolutely no need for them. theyre just experimental work#okay sin time#i tried cereal...with water. choco fruity pebs. i dont have milk currently#.........it wasn't bad#anyways goodnight!
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across stardust - one (j.yh)
summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you've never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he's so much more than a crush, he's your soulmate. one | two | three | four
note: please enjoy this truly self indulgent romance. will be four parts total, and i'll post each as soon as they are ready to go. happy comeback week, and i hope everyone enjoys this 💖
tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, a lot of fluff and tenderness, love at first touch, shared feelings/emotions/physical sensations, anxiety/stress over what to do, reader's family isn't the best, kq is not the best company for the purposes of this fic!, light smut including - heavy makeouts/grinding, hand kink, size kink, phone sex, sexting, fingering, jacking off, dirty talk, praise, use of good girl, use of pet names like baby/jagiya/sweetheart. basically this fic is an excuse for me to write star-crossed desperate love so i would say it's the literal opposite of a slow burn lmao
pairings: yunho x reader
genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au
word count: 17.9k
It’s eleven in the morning when your day starts, hiding in the green room of a concert venue in Berlin, and the day feels lost already. With Eunji and Dahan ill that only leaves you and Iseul to handle makeup for all eight members and with how exhausted you are from yet another night of little sleep, you don’t know how you’ll be able to keep up. You’re trying to stay awake, but while the members are all out on stage learning their marks and rehearsing the improvisational moments for this tour stop, the green room is quiet and you keep nodding off.
“Bad night?” Iseul’s voice startles you out of one of your dips into sleep and your body jerks up right.
“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,”
“Here,” She pushes a bright can into your hands, an energy drink, “you need this.”
“I need to be sedated,” You grumble, taking it from her, “the time difference is never this hard,”
“Mm,” She shrugs, “it’s unpredictable,”
“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.”
The thumping music outside as they run through another track is starting to give you a migraine. You take a long sip of the drink and then leave the can on the table in front of you, choosing instead to hide your face in the sleeves of your sweatshirt and let out another long sigh.
“Girl,” Iseul nudges you, “you look like shit. Your station looks like shit.”
“Thank you?”
“In thirty minutes we’re going to be busier than we’ve been since that Inkigayo stage for Answer,” She points out and you grimace at the reference. Back then it really was just a skeleton staff and one of the makeup artists quit on the spot, too stressed to continue the work and walking out in the middle of doing Yeosang’s foundation.
What a mess those old days used to be. Nostalgia sometimes makes you forget how late those nights were and just how impossibly tired you had been. This feels too reminiscent of that for sure.
Iseul taps your shoulder to get you to lift your face as she continues, “I know you’re tired, but I can’t do this shit on my own. I need you.”
“Okay,” You breathe, scrubbing your hands over your face to jolt yourself awake as best you can, “you’re right, I’m sorry,”
“Don’t be sorry,” She gives you a sympathetic smile, “I get it.”
This tiredness feels different though, so deeply ingrained in your body. Something’s been keeping your adrenaline running like a long, drawn out anxiety attack and you can’t understand it. You’ve been on tour before, you’ve been on planes, you’ve had long days, and you’ve worked with this exact group for years. There’s nothing on paper that should be making you so anxious, but the threads of it are humming in the deep back of your brain even now.
“Come on,” Iseul prompts again, pulling you to your feet, “let’s get you in gear.”
“Right,” You take another long sip of your energy drink and pray it starts kicking in soon and that the effects won’t make you feel crazier, “let’s do this.”
She helps you put your station together with ease and then pull yourself together. Within those precious thirty minutes of calm before the storm you’ve downed two cans of pure caffeine, assembled your station and strapped on your brush belt, and tried to make yourself some form of presentable by slicking your hair back into a smooth knot and adding a coat of lip balm.
As always, the boys have used the ladder game to determine hair and makeup order which means those at the bottom of the list have more time to relax fresh-faced on the couches before getting poked and prodded and wrapped up like presents for thousands of screaming fans. With only you and Iseul available it’s about to be a race against the clock to get them ready.
Their managers hustle them from the stage to the back rooms where the rest of the staff waits, and the members gather around you and Iseul and your makeshift makeup stations.
“Alright,” Iseul says as the members quiet down, “we’re down some staff as you know,”
They nod attentively and you trade a close lipped smile with Hongjoong.
“We’re just going to do the best we can as quickly as we can,” She explains, looking down at their names on a slip of paper, “Wooyoung, Yeosang, Jongho, San,” she recites, “you’re with me in that order.”
You run through the names on your slip, “Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Yunho, that leaves you with me.”
Iseul nods as you finish your words, “Please be ready to slot in when the person in front of you is finished, and then you can go directly to wardrobe for your soundcheck outfits,”
“We’ve got it,” Hongjoong nods, “and if there’s anything you both need,”
“We’ll be fine,” Iseul assures him, “but it’s definitely going to be cutting it close,”
“We should get started,” You cut in, “if you’re ready?”
Hongjoong jumps to your chair immediately and Wooyoung steps to Iseul’s, and before you know it you’re off.
The room is alight with activity while you both work, only you don’t have a relaxed pace and only two members to perfect. You’re used to working with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, they’ve been your assigned members for as long as you’ve worked with Ateez, but when staff shortages or timing gets tight, it can be a bit of a free for all.
You stay focused and execute each member’s makeup like a well rehearsed dance, and you do your best to ignore the buzzing anxiety in your veins. For a little while, you handle it like a professional.
When Yunho finally settles into your chair, about a single second after Mingi leaves it, the exhaustion careens back into you sideways. It takes you a minute to prep your tools this time, and you’re pretty sure that without the artificial pick me up of the energy drinks you’d be passing out on the spot.
You steady your hands against the vanity in front of you and take a deep breath, and when you look up you catch Yunho’s eyes in the mirror, a tiny crease of concern between his brows.
“You okay?” He checks.
You give him a smile, albeit a tired one, “The jet lag is really hitting this time,” you explain, “but I’m fine,”
He looks sympathetic immediately, “Same for me, I feel like I’m barely sleeping,”
“That’s not good,” You tell him as you prep your stainless steel palette, “you have a long night ahead,”
“I’ll sleep tonight,” He says, “I’m sure,”
“After dancing for three hours I’d hope so,” You smile and pick up your first set of tools before turning towards him.
“Do you have anything you could take?” He asks, studying your face, “A sleep aid?”
“I usually don’t like to,” You admit, “I always feel groggy the next day,”
“And we have another show,” He finishes for you, his lips coming together in a thin line as he thinks.
There’s nothing really for him to do, but it’s kind of him anyway to be so concerned. They always are, this rare group of eight idols who remember staff birthdays, bring coffee on the early morning schedules, and always, always take extra time to clean up after themselves so it’s not left to anyone else.
You take a step closer towards him and glance over his bare face and then it occurs to you, “You know what’s funny?”
“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you.
“I don’t think I’ve ever done your makeup before,” You smile, it’s a ridiculous thought.
“No way,” He blinks, thinking back, “it’s been… forever, are you sure?”
You nod, “You’re usually with Eunji,” you tell him, “and even when we’ve swapped around, I don’t think so. I think you’re the only member I’ve never done,”
“Wow,” He laughs, eyes bright, “well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“Is there anything,” You start to ask him if there’s anything he prefers, anything special about his makeup that he gets done with Eunji that he asks for, but Iseul catches you idle as she pats foundation onto San’s forehead and answers for you.
“His skin gets dry,” She jumps in, “don’t use too much powder,”
Yunho grins, a laugh on his lips at the directness of her words.
“And don’t use that oil,” Iseul adds, “that primer oil you like, he’ll break out by tomorrow,”
“Thank you, Iseul,” Yunho says, and you watch San’s face as he stifles a chuckle.
“Noted,” You smile, and you swap out two of the products in your hands before taking up your position by his side again.
You’ve gotten used to working with idols, to working with Ateez and with Yunho specifically, and yet when you get this close a little flutter of nerves rocks through your belly. He’s handsome, and if you’re being honest he’s just your type. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or this weird feeling in your chest that you’ve been dealing with all week, but for the first time in a long time you think about what it would be like to kiss his lips.
“How do you want me?” He asks, breaking your thoughts, and you have to shake off the impending blush at the way his words make you feel. You have work to do, and you had gotten over your silly little crush on him years ago, you need to get a grip.
You recover fairly smoothly though with a quick smile, “Right,” he’s never worked with you before, and he’s looking to you for direction, “head back a bit, please, and eyes closed,”
“Alright,” He follows your instructions to the letter.
“Okay,” You tell him, “primer first. Let me know if anything bothers you,”
“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed.
He has the loveliest eyelashes, that’s the thought that echoes through your brain as you start working on him, and you wish it never occurred to you at all because you keep glancing up at his closed eyes. He lets you work, he knows you’re exhausted so he doesn’t push you for conversation, and you’re strangely grateful. You know he’s chatty sometimes in the chair, an extrovert through and through and always keeping Eunji company or talking with the member beside him, but right now he keeps still and gives you respite on a hard day.
You’re patting foundation into his skin with a large paddle brush when Iseul interrupts your thoughts, “Do you have that eggplant liner?”
“Check my table,” You offer, but with how sluggish your brain is feeling there’s no way you remember a single thing on your station without looking.
“Mm,” She pivots around and pokes through the products and tools behind you, and you glance over as San opens his eyes to watch Iseul rifle through things.
“Damn,” She mutters, “how much time do we have?”
“Um,” You glance down at your watch, “twenty?”
“Perfect,” She scoots behind you and disappears into the hall, no doubt to find your traveling makeup case and the liner.
You sigh, chewing the inside of your lip at the idea that you only have twenty more minutes, but you really don’t want to rush and have his makeup melt off on-stage.
“You’re fine,” San assures, his body angled towards you and Yunho now while he waits, “don’t worry about the clock,”
Yunho hums his agreement from below you, “Plenty of time,”
You refocus on Yunho’s skin and notice a long black and white hair from the paddle brush affixed to his cheek, mixed in with the foundation. You take the brush again, wiping off any excess foundation and checking to see if more fibers are loose, and then you work the brush against his cheek in an attempt to free the loose hair but it isn’t coming off easily. Every attempt you make just slides the hair into a different spot on his cheek and covers it with more foundation.
“Um,” You usually don’t like to do this, but you might have to, “can I just…”
His eyes open but his expression stays smooth, “Can you?”
“Sorry,” You shake your head, “do you mind if I touch you?”
“You already are,” He smiles, a small, amused crease between his brows you’ll have to pat out momentarily.
You tuck your brush away and gesture with your hand, “You just have a hair,”
“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,”
You’re just supposed to touch his cheek, brush away the hair with the pad of your finger and then get back to work, that’s all it is, so you’re completely unprepared for the feeling that rockets through your chest when your skin finally touches his.
Yunho gasps softly as your fingers brush over his cheek, his eyes blowing wide and his expression blanking, and it’s the only indication you have that he feels something too. A tightness wrenches in your chest, like someone pressed something hot and hard directly into your breastbone and your stomach does a somersault. Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure your heart is about to beat out of your chest now that it’s started up again.
The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse.
“You,” Yunho manages, his voice shaky and you know for sure he felt it too.
You rock back a step, “I don’t understand,”
“Shit,” Someone else says, and then you realize that it’s San and you’re not alone with the only other person in the entire world, you’re in the middle of work in front of at least one other person and it’s only your existence that just got tilted on its axis. Yours and maybe Yunho’s.
“Oh,” You glance to the side, taking in San’s wide eyed expression, “oh my God,”
“I’m not insane, am I?” Yunho smiles, his focus entirely on you, and you think you might just pass out, “You felt that?”
There’s a noise in the hall and San scrambles up to his feet, “Iseul,” he says heading for the door, “do you need help looking?”
He’s covering for you both, but thoughts are slow to form and all you can manage is blinking at the man in your chair.
“You did, right?” He asks again, eyes soft and hopeful, and then his fingers brush over the center of his chest. Squarely over his breastbone.
He’s yours.
You want to reach out and yank up his shirt, check the tattoo over his heart to see if it’s the same looping knot shape as yours, but you don’t need to see it to know for sure. It’s him.
San says something about forgetting the liner altogether, a little louder so you both know the room is going to get crowded again, and you shake your head to jolt yourself out of your paralyzed position.
“You didn’t?” His hand falls.
“I did,” You rush to correct, “I’m, I don’t know,”
He nods, wetting his lips and shifting in his chair. He moves to reach for you, but reason and sense click back into place immediately and you realize that no matter what your tattoo feels like and no matter what this means, you’re at work and about to have a very private moment in a very public place if you’re not careful.
You shake your head with a glance at his hand and jerk your head towards the door, “Later,”
“Right,” He leans back from you, “of course, right,”
Footsteps to your right draw your attention and Iseul is huffing, checking her own watch, “We’ll do brown,”
“That’ll be fine,” San assures her, but his eyes are glued on the pair of you.
Iseul moves to step around you again and realizes you’re just standing there, “What’s with you?”
“Sorry,” You manage, blinking hard and refocusing, “I just got dizzy,”
It’s not entirely a lie, given that you felt the entire earth shift under your feet thirty seconds ago and your life is completely changed. Dizzy is the least of how you’re feeling.
Yunho’s expression shifts immediately, concern across his face, and he curls his fingers into his palms to keep himself from reaching out again, from being too familiar.
“Oh,” Her eyebrows raise high, “do you need me to finish Yunho?”
“N-no,” You take a breath, ���just give me one second,”
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Yunho asks, and in the back of your brain you wonder if his voice has always sounded this good.
“Here,” San cuts in smoothly, cracking the seal on a fresh water bottle and passing it over to you, “do you need to sit a minute?”
San’s hand rests on your upper back between your shoulders as you take a long sip of water, the cold shocking your brain back to reality in exactly the way you need.
“Thank you,” You tell him honestly, “I think I’m okay, just a headrush,”
San nods, and when you refocus your eyes on Yunho, you almost laugh. His gaze is squarely on San’s hand where it sits on your back, and you watch the fast, silent exchange between the two men when San drops his hand and Yunho realizes his own reaction. He blushes, ears running red and he dips his head to avoid both your eyes.
“Iseul,” San steps around you both and distracts your friend, “ready to wrap?”
“Yeah,” She agrees, “let’s finish up. You’re sure you’re okay, y/n?”
“Mhm,” You hardly trust your own voice, but you nod anyway, “I’m good now.”
Yunho tilts his face back up as you step close, and the tension between you is so palpable and so familiar that you can hardly breathe. Your tattoo feels warm and heavy and something tells you that his does too, you can see it in the tenderness of his brown eyes.
“Dizzy?” He asks quietly, keeping his words just for you.
You shake your head, “No,”
“That’s good,” He murmurs, but he lets whatever words he wants to say rest on his tongue.
Your tattoo throbs and you don’t dare touch his bare skin again.
His makeup takes fifteen more minutes and his eyes don’t stray from your face the entire time. You barely finish on time, and wardrobe is standing by to get them into their first outfits of the night, so when you put the final touches on he’s already being pulled out of the chair before you have a chance to say anything.
You want to corner him and ask him exactly when he’ll have time to talk later, but despite working together for the last few years, you and Yunho aren’t that close. You’re friendly, but you’re not familiar enough to casually ask what he’s doing later and not have it seem strange. While friendships between staff members and idols are not discouraged, even between the opposite sex, being overly familiar or suggestive would certainly leave a question in everyone’s minds, and you don’t want to draw attention to yourself that quickly.
This is between you and Yunho, no one else. You don’t want an audience for this.
So he goes, pulled away by wardrobe and his other members, fitted quickly into his Soundcheck outfit. He has his game face on, so do all the members, and you watch him disappear down the hall without a second glance back at you.
You collapse into the couch and press your eyes closed, focusing on the singular feeling of heat and soreness from your chest.
A soulmate.
The tattoo on your chest was one you barely looked at anymore, too focused on living your life to sit in the mirror and wonder about the person who would be your other half, the person that would slot into the gaps in your spirit with a simple brush of skin on skin. But now, it aches. It pulses to remind you that it’s real and that you’ve found him.
Everything in your life is about to change. Has already changed.
On the couch you don’t sleep as much as you disassociate, still stunned, your buzzing brain filtering out everything Iseul says as she cleans up around you and preps both of your brush belts for touch ups. There’s such a small amount of time between Soundcheck and the concert that you barely get to process, you just exist, playing the moment you touched him over again and again in your mind. Despite how utterly changed you feel, the world is just continuing on around you like a regular day.
Once again, you and Yunho miss each other for every brief moment between Soundcheck and stage.
The shift happens in the wings, in the underbelly of the stage where you and the other staff members for hair, makeup, and wardrobe wait for any last minute quick fixes. The eight of them are almost ready, pumping themselves up between rows of technical equipment and stage scaffolding.
There’s so much commotion around you and yet your eyes are drawn to him like a magnet, the feelings you once had for him coming back to you full force in a blurry torrent.
He shifts, stretches, swallows hard, and then looks up directly into your eyes. There’s a question in them that you can’t read, but you manage to smile.
His shoulders relax just a little.
You raise your fist, giving him the gesture for ‘fighting’ and he returns it with a wide grin.
“Alright,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through, the final step of their pre-show ritual as the concert hall starts to roar, “huddle up.”
The eight of them circle up with each other, one leg in and one out.
“We’ve practiced hard,” Hongjoong starts, patting his members on the back, “let that practice pay off, and have fun out there,”
“Okay!” San hypes them up, getting the tension high.
“Let’s give it our all,” Hongjoong continues, a wide smile on his face, “fighting!”
They echo it back, and a tense feeling starts to roll in your gut.
“Alright, one,” Hongjoong starts the count and you feel the tension in your own body rising, enough to make you take a soft step back from the group, “two,”
On three they chorus it, moving their feet in a synchronized step, “Eight makes one team! Fighting!”
They break apart, clapping each other on the back, and your eyes meet Yunho’s for one more fast second before he’s jogging after the rest of the members and finding his mark on the stage risers.
You feel the sensation of his eyes on you even after he’s gone. You have the length of four songs and their opening ments before members start swapping out on stage for makeup touch-ups and technical adjustments. The sound of the audience is intense, the start of the first song keying up, and you stumble back from your post to get a breath of air away from it all.
There’s a bathroom along the hallway two doors down from the green room that’s meant for staff and you blissfully find it empty. With shaking hands you flip the lock and sink down into a crouch, your back braced against the wall as you breathe through the sudden wave of feelings filling your chest.
Adrenaline, that’s what the bitter taste on your tongue is.
Your heart is thumping, double time like you’re running a marathon, and then you realize it. You can feel him, even now with the bond between you unfulfilled you can feel his emotions coming to you like a wave. Adrenaline, anxiety, euphoria, exhaustion, it all roils through you and you brace your hands on the wall to get your composure back.
They say the first time you feel your soulmate link it takes you by surprise, but this is an intensity you couldn’t have imagined. It’s all encompassing and honestly terrifying, and you’re struggling to understand which parts of you are you and which are him. You can’t conceive of how an accepted bond would make this feeling stronger when it already feels like your emotions and his are knit together so tightly.
Anxiety strikes down the link and you realize it’s not stage fright, it’s for you. He can feel your panic and your fear just like you can feel every ounce of his performance and if you don’t get yourself in check you’re going to be distracting him even more than you already are.
You yank yourself up off the floor and collapse against the sink, turning on the cold water tap and taking slow and steadying breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Counting slowly, relaxing your body with every pulse of oxygen through your system. You hope he can feel it, but you have no idea how this all really works. You’ll have to call your sister when this is all said and done, find out what she felt when she met her wife, but right now in this bathroom in Berlin you have to do this by yourself.
You hear the pulse of another song thrumming through the stadium as they keep performing, and you feel the thundering beat of his heart in your chest, but you breathe into it this time and try to keep yourself calm for his sake. You splash cold water on your face, keep breathing low and slow, and eventually you pull yourself back up to standing tall to look at yourself in the mirror.
You look the same as you did a few hours ago, before him, but the warmth in your chest is still present and you wonder if that will ever go away or if that’s just a permanent part of the link.
With shaky hands you unbutton your blouse and pull your bralette down in the center to reveal what you already know is there. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.
The tattoo nestled at the base of your sternum is the only one you were born with. Every other line of ink on your body was put there with intention, but this one you’ve had for as long as you can remember. The maedeup knot is small, but intricate, and until this moment it had always been colorless. Loops of black and gray twining together to make a rounded diamond, unbroken with no beginning or end to the threads.
Now the ink has changed, a deep red against your skin that makes the knotted josephin soulmark look even more traditional, but the skin is slightly inflamed, tender to the touch as you brush your fingertips along it. It feels like a fresh mark, not something you’ve had since birth, but considering how it’s changed, maybe it is new. A soulmark shifting color is common, you know that, but it still stands out so starkly against your skin and your other black tattoos. You can’t look away from it.
A pounding on the bathroom door makes you jump and you fix your shirt, covering the mark back up and buttoning it away. You wonder if Yunho’s mark is the exact same like other couples you know and if it too turned red, if it’s warm to the touch, if he felt you brush against your mark through the link.
“y/n?” A voice comes through the door and you shut off the tap.
“Coming!” You wipe the excess water on your hands onto your jeans and take one last, fast look to make sure your mark isn’t visible, before opening the bathroom door.
Wonshik, one of their many managers, is waiting for you on the other side. His eyes narrow when he sees you, “Are you ill?”
“No,” You assure him.
“You’re sure?” He presses, “We can’t afford to lose any more staff or risk getting the members sick if you are,”
“I know, Wonshik,” You nod, “I promise I’m just tired, jet-lagged. I was putting cold water on my face, that’s all. I’m not sick,”
He exhales in relief, his expression softening, “Thank God,” he says, “I can only take so many surprises.”
A little sickness is nothing compared to a staff member and an idol under a dating ban being soulmarked, but you hold your tongue.
“They’re about to come off,” He says, “Iseul was looking for you, she seems like she might start climbing the walls if you don’t get back to help her,”
“No, of course,” You start back towards the side stage entrance, “I lost track of time, but it won’t happen again,”
“Make sure you sleep tonight,” He adds, following you closely, “no sleep means no immune system, and no immune system means sick.”
“Don’t worry,” You promise, winding your way through the dark backstage, “you won’t lose me,”
“I better not,” He sighs, and then Iseul comes into sight.
“There you are!” She hisses low under her breath, “I was about to have a panic attack,”
“I’m sorry, I’m here, I’m good,” In the commotion, your brain starts to ease into normalcy. You’re used to this pace, the speed of lightning fast makeup touch-ups and assisting wardrobe when things start to go awry with their quick changes. The audience feels none of this, they just see smooth change-outs on stage and cool idols in new clothes, but backstage is a wild flurry and it always puts you on an entirely different plane of focus.
“Here we go,” A stage director starts, gathering everyone’s attention, “four minutes… starting…”
The stage goes dark and in the venue a video starts to play to the crowd to fill the space between costume changes. You prep your hands, making sure your kit is ready to go and you see the wardrobe specialists out of the corner of your eye readying themselves to help facilitate the quick change.
Suddenly they’re here, and the stage director interrupts once more, “Now, four minutes people, let’s go.”
“Mingi,” He gets to you first and he crouches down to drop his face to your height, “stay still one second,”
He says nothing, but he nods as you pat powder across his forehead and the bridge of his nose, checking him over for any other defects. He looks good and you nod, “Go, go,”
Mingi peels off to the left of you and you hear the sound of fabric swishing as he and Wooyoung rip off the top layer of their outfits behind the privacy screens and trade garments with the wardrobe team. It’s a fast shuffle, but you stay focused on who’s in front of you.
“Seonghwa,” You wave to him, pulling blotting tissues out of the pack on your belt, “here,”
He knows this drill well, you’re used to working with him and you have a clean routine down. He blots the sweat off his brow himself and starts to unbutton his jacket while you shift focus to Yunho.
For a split second you almost forget what happened earlier in the buzz of backstage, but the minute your eyes hold on his awareness floods you.
“Hey,” You say, but there’s a time clock shout behind you and you beckon him down, “come here, let me fix things,”
He drops down to your height just like Mingi did and stays steady while you work, but his eyes flick up, “You’re okay?”
“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,”
His expression clears a little and you guess you have your answer about the feeling of the link going both ways.
Hongjoong clears his throat behind you both, “We’re short on time,”
“Am I good?” Yunho checks.
Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,”
He’s out of your eyeline a split second later, and you’re grateful for the distraction of both Hongjoong and Seonghwa, otherwise you’re sure you’d dwell a little bit too long on the fact that Yunho’s half naked next to you, privacy screen or no.
“One minute,” The stage director announces, “everyone’s doing great,”
The boys are almost done, flying through the last of their zips and getting their hair smoothed down by that team as they finish. You put the last pat of powder on Seonghwa’s nose and give him a nod before he’s gone too, dropping his jacket as he goes and giving you all a quick flash of his bare back.
You turn back towards the group as they prepare and your eyes zero in on Yunho again. His expression is serious, it’s his game face before he gets back out on stage, and you watch as he corrects the placement of his in-ears and ensures that his mic pack is secured. He runs through his pre-stage ritual and you can’t help but be a captive audience.
“Good work,” The stage director says as Seonghwa rejoins the eight, fully dressed and ready for stage, “fifteen seconds for act two,”
The crowd heats up again as the video starts to fade, and the members do their final checks. Yunho doesn’t look back at you once, his eyes forward and focused as he and the other members find their places on the rising platform that will take them back out to the main stage.
You can see him a little though, in the low light in his white trousers and blue satin shirt. He lifts his hand, adjusting his microphone once again, and then as he drops it back to his side he lets his fingers skim over the familiar hollow of his chest.
Your mark warms, you feel it as if it were your chest he brushed his fingers over, and your breath stops.
The platform rises, the crowd roars, and your heart starts beating to a new rhythm.
He really is yours.
It turns out that later means much later.
You manage to get out of dinner with some of the other staff members, but that just leaves you anxious and alone in a hotel room trying and failing to eat room service. Iseul would be back soon to take up her place in the other bed, and you’re starting to realize that you don’t have Yunho’s number.
Now that emotions are a little smoother, you can’t feel him. Or maybe you can, but it’s so faint that you’re not sure. All you know is that he’s definitely in the hotel, but that’s partially the solid feeling of your link with him and partially the YouTube live being broadcast from Seonghwa’s room where all of the members are.
You put the live on and watch, feeling strangely disconnected from the men on screen. You’ve known them for years, but suddenly with this new truth everything feels foreign and confusing.
You should call your sister, but it’s only six in the morning in Korea and even though this is an emergency of life altering and epic proportions, you can’t bring yourself to wake her on a Saturday.
You try your best to eat the pasta you ordered and watch as the live eventually ends. Your phone dings and for a split second you think it will be him, but it’s just Iseul telling you she’s heading back to the hotel.
A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch.
You’re frozen.
There’s another knock, a little firmer this time but then you feel the warm touch against your mark and you’re on your feet, your hand on the door handle before you can think.
He looks tired, that’s your first thought. His face is bare again, and his eyes are rimmed in a little bit of red like he just removed the day’s stage makeup. Despite all that, he smiles when he sees you and sighs, leaning against the door frame, “You’re awake,” he says.
“I waited,” You manage.
He grimaces, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” his eyes flick behind you into the room and he swallows, “are you alone?”
“Yes,” You nod, “but not for long, Iseul’s on her way,”
He nods, “Come to my room?”
“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen.
“We need to talk,” He nods, “can you get away for a little while?”
Iseul will probably expect you to be asleep, but you can’t let this go until morning. If you’re ever going to sleep you need to talk to him now.
“I’ll think of something,” You tell him, “what room?”
“2606,” He answers, reaching into his pockets and producing an envelope from the front desk, “take this,”
He passes you one of his room keys and you nod, “I’ll be up in five minutes, but you should go,”
“Okay,” He breathes and neither one of you makes a single move to step away from the door until a sound down the hallway pushes you into it.
“2606,” You repeat and he nods, swiftly moving down the hall before anyone can see him standing at your door.
You have no idea what you’re going to tell Iseul that would make sense, but you don’t care. You stack up your room service for collection, kick on a pair of slippers, and give yourself the fastest look in the mirror ever on your way out the door. You want to be gone before she gets back, the idea of facing her and lying ten times more difficult than an empty text.
No problem - I can’t sleep, I’m just going to walk a bit. Don’t wait up.
You don’t stick around to see if she’ll believe it.
You try to seem casual when walking to Yunho’s room, like it's yours. You don’t want anyone to give you a second glance and wonder where you’re going, so you keep your head up, smile at anyone you pass, and when his door comes into view you scan the card like it’s any other day.
When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh.
“God, finally,” His voice startles you, and you look up to see him pacing, “I’ve been going insane all day,”
Your shoulders drop, you aren’t alone, “Me too,”
He runs a hand through his black hair and finally stops pacing, but doesn’t come any closer, “So, this is real?”
“It feels pretty real,”
“How did we never feel it?” He manages, “I’ve known you for years,”
“We’ve never touched until today,” You tell him, and that has to be the reason, it’s the only thing that makes sense. You’ve been turning it over in your mind all night, and with the exception of bumping into him last week in the hall, it’s all been polite bows and waves.
“How is that even possible,” He breathes, “team dinners? Holiday parties? Work?”
“Skin to skin,” You murmur, “I think that’s what it was,”
“I had no idea,” He swallows, gesturing in the negative space between your bodies, “I always liked you, but I thought it was just, you know, a crush,”
“You what?” Your eyebrows raise.
“Well,” He backtracks, “not like that, it’s not like I’ve been holding a candle.”
Your face stays neutral, but he grimaces at his own words.
“I’m fucking this up,” He takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I’m really nervous.”
Your stomach warms, “Yunho, it’s okay, honestly,”
“I just meant I’ve always liked you, I thought about asking you out when our contracts loosened up if you were still single.” He clarifies and then you watch his face blanch, “You are single, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” You nod, “we don’t have to worry about that,”
He nods and you see him searching for the next thing to say, the right thing.
“Your mark,” You cut in, taking a few steps further into the room, “did it change?”
“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?”
“Yeah,” You wonder the right way to ask him if you can see.
“Does it feel,” He starts.
“Warm?”
“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?”
“Like a fresh tattoo,” You take another step in.
“I’ve never gotten a tattoo,” He confesses, “but I’ll take your word for it,”
“Can I,” The words are stuck on your tongue, “maybe this is weird, but I mean, I guess we’re soulmates,”
“You want to see it?” He surmises.
“Only if you’re comfortable,”
His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”
Heat twists in your gut and you wonder if he can feel that too. If he does he doesn’t say it, but you watch as he pulls the black t-shirt off over his head.
You’ve never seen his chest. Any inch of his skin except for his neck and arms really, and you guess that was part of keeping his soulmark covered. Idols always do, even when they’re in the most inconvenient locations, there’s always makeup or flesh colored tape or editing to take care of it. The idea that someone could replicate it and try to fake a connection is far too real for someone famous.
He drops his shirt onto the bed and pink tinges his cheeks as he gestures towards it, “Well,”
Your mouth drops, it’s the exact same, down to the size and the placement and every little loop and you stumble forwards to get a better look, “Yunho,”
“Yeah?”
“Has yours always been red?” You reach out, your fingertips hovering just over it.
He shakes his head, “Not before today,”
“Mine’s the same,” You tell him, your eyes glued to his sternum, “just the same,”
You know every centimeter of this tattoo. You’ve studied it a thousand times in the mirror, tracing over every curve with your eyes, trying to find the place where the cord starts and ends. He sucks in a sharp breath as your fingers brush gently along his mark, and you feel the ghost of the sensation against your own.
“I can’t believe we never knew,” You murmur, sliding your finger along each rounded edge.
“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?”
You’re nodding and moving to tug off your sweater before you can even think it through. He starts to shake his head, to say that you don’t have to, but you’re already tossing the sweater next to his discarded shirt and tugging down the front band of your bralette so he can see the whole mark.
His eyes flick over you fast, but with the matching mark in front of him he doesn’t focus on anything else, “It’s exactly the same,”
“I know,” You reach for his hand, but the minute more of your skin connects with his you feel your chest throb and you drop it like it burns you.
He winces, touching his chest again, “Is it supposed to hurt?”
“In the beginning,” You nod, “I think?”
“Does it always feel like that?”
“I’m not sure,” You admit, “I was going to call my sister and ask, but it’s too early at home,”
He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?”
“In highschool,” You smile back, “they’ve been bonded together since they were eighteen,”
“Older or younger?” He asks, and you realize just how little you know about each other despite how long you’ve worked alongside him.
“Younger,” You say.
“I have a little brother,” He replies, “but he’s still in school,”
You nod, painfully aware that this is such a strange conversation to have with your shirts off just standing in the middle of a hotel room, but somehow it’s easier than any date you’ve ever had.
Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mark and he reaches out a hand again, “Can I?”
Your heart quickens and you nod.
His fingertips graze over the edge of your mark, mimicking your touch from before, sliding along the edges of the tattoo. His eyes widen and you know he’s feeling the sensation in his own mark, a mirror image of each other.
“This doesn’t hurt,” He observes, letting his fingers linger.
“I think we have to get used to each other,” You remember that fact from somewhere, “the link has been dormant for a long time, I think it takes a minute to get used to having it,”
“Makes sense,” He murmurs, his eyes still squarely on your mark, “I’ll be honest though, I still really want to touch you,”
“Yeah?” Your voice is thready.
His fingers fall away and he nods, “Don’t you?”
“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly.
He swallows tightly and takes the smallest step forwards, before offering out his hand, palm up and waiting for you.
Your eyes flick from his face down to his outstretched hand, and you reach for him slowly. You let your fingertips skate over the skin of his palm, down each digit, ghost the pads of your fingertips together. It’s warm, sharp and dizzying even just to brush against each other.
You wonder what more will feel like.
“Can I try something?” He murmurs, his voice nearly a whisper even though you’re all alone.
You nod.
He wets his lips unconsciously and moves a little closer, your bodies now only inches apart. Anxiety, anticipation, thrill, it all runs through your gut like a whirling wind and you shiver at the torrent of his emotions, a grin breaking out over your face.
His smile mirrors yours, “Your heart’s beating a mile a minute,”
“You can feel that?”
“Yeah,” He breathes, grin widening, “this is crazy,”
You laugh, a little nervous, a little elated, and he finally reaches out his hands.
He takes a steadying breath, and then his fingertips brush along your jaw.
You suck in a sharp gasp at the sensation, electric and hot, the feeling rocketing through your entire body. You tilt your face up to his as he continues his gentle touches, your eyes watching him as he studies you. His plush lips are parted, brown eyes wide with awe as he grows a little bolder to brush over your cheeks, down your throat, and back up to your jawline.
“Feel alright?” He murmurs.
You nod into his touch and he starts to lift off but you reach for him, “Don’t stop,”
Your hands land safely on his hips, still covered by his sweatpants and you watch him swallow again at the sudden contact, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Warmth fills the bond, no doubt the first threads of his arousal, and you wonder if he can feel your own. If he can sense how much he’s affecting you with just his fingertips on your face.
His hands settle back on your skin, this time smoothing across you with his palms, one hand cupping your cheek and the other sliding over your shoulder and down your bare back.
You can barely breathe, the room so silent and around you, like the only thing in the universe that exists is the two of you orbiting each other, standing at the precipice of something so catastrophic and wonderful.
Your hands adjust, resting on his taut abdomen as you move a little closer together, and his eyes flutter shut as he breathes through the sensation of your hands on him properly for the first time.
“You’re so warm,” You murmur, your hands softly tracing his abdominal muscles, instinct guiding you to touch more of him, seek out every inch of him as you unconsciously make a map of his body in your mind.
He hums pleasantly, eyes reopening, “So are you,”
He feels so right, so essential under your touch.
Yunho wets his lips softly with his tongue, and a nervous thrill passes through your belly. His eyes flick over you, the pad of his thumb sweeping a line over your lips. You suppress a needy sound, still trying to keep your head amidst the thrumming emotions and steady thumps of your heart.
He doesn’t stop, just stroking your skin slowly, fingers on your back pressing just a little as he sighs.
“Yunho,” You shiver.
“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer.
“N-no,” Your body is all but pressed flush against him now, and you have to lean your face up even more just to see him as he stands tall over you.
“I…” He starts to say something but lets the words die off, like he’s thinking something through, but then he sighs, “forget it,”
His lips are on yours.
Yunho lifts you, wrapping his arms around your back and tugging you up into his embrace. You gasp against his mouth, finding his shoulders to hold onto as one of his arms bands around your lower back.
The kiss is shattering, the world tilting once again, a new frequency humming between your two bodies. It’s hot, your skin buzzing from the contact, but the way you move together is fluid and easy. Your legs part naturally, settling around his hips and his free hand finds your plush thigh as he tugs you into place, slotting your bodies together like they were always meant to be.
“I’m sorry,” He mumbles against your lips when he draws in a quick breath, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. His nose nuzzles against yours, and his lips part at the same moment yours do, tongues meeting in the space between your mouths to flick against each other.
“Don’t,” You push closer to him, fingers knotting into the back of his hair as you kiss him back.
He hums, the hand on your thigh sliding up to cup your ass and you shiver as his wide hand stretches across your backside, squeezing your pillowy flesh.
A tiny whimper does leave you then, liquid heat spreading through your body, the combined sensation of both your arousals giving you a headrush.
“So beautiful,” He sighs between kisses, “you’re so beautiful,”
“Yunho,” Your voice is thready, his name a stretched out sound.
He holds you close, nearly stumbling as he moves. You blink your eyes open just as he spins you both, pushing you up against the hotel wall and pinning you in place with the weight of his body. You should slow things down, but nothing in your life has ever felt this good and you find yourself diving back to meet his kiss again.
His arm slides out from behind your back as he pushes closer, your body fully supported by the flat of the wall behind you and his hips under yours and one hand firmly anchored on your ass. With his arm free he cups your cheek, a pleased sound on his lips as he dips you back into the wall and deepens the kiss.
Heat blooms through you, your kisses getting needier, artless and desperate just to get a little closer together. The kind of kissing that sounds as messy as it is, tiny pants and moans muffled between you, skin on skin, tongue on tongue.
“God,” He shudders, his lips breaking away, but his eyes only flick over you for a second before he dives back in. This time his lips travel, hot kisses across your jaw and back to the hollow of your ear, down your throat as he holds you a little higher on the wall for the right access.
You grip his shoulders with one hand and lock your fingers in his mess of black hair with the other, your head falling back against the wall. He pants against your throat, a soft groan as he kisses, and your stomach tightens pleasantly.
“Y-Yunho,” You gasp, arousal rolling through you, and unconsciously you rock your hips, desperately seeking some kind of friction.
He hums low in his throat, kissing back up your neck fast to get to your lips again and his hand slides off your cheek as he crowds you tighter, bracing himself against the wall above your head. His abdomen presses against your core, and even through layers of fabric you feel his heat. Hungrily, you roll your hips again and catch a little pressure, moaning in earnest against his mouth.
Yunho makes a tight sound and then he breaks the kiss, his forehead pressing hard against yours as he takes in slow breaths, his body all but trembling with need as he holds you.
“We need to slow down,” He manages.
You can’t find words, not yet, but you nod against him.
“You deserve better,” He says, “dates, presents,”
You laugh softly, your hand in his hair softening from a grip to a gentle hold, carding through the long locks at the base of his neck, “I don’t need all that,”
He smiles wide, brushing off your words, “Still,” He sighs, still recovering from the heated make out, “I think I have more self control than fulfilling our bond by fucking you into the wall,”
Reality bleeds back in at that. Soulmarks were just that, indicator marks. A way to find your person amidst a sea of thousands, if not millions. All the shared sensation and emotion a precursor to something more permanent and binding, something only sealed together by sex.
You lift your head up, and he leans back to mirror you.
“I lost my head there,” You admit, warm blush in your cheeks, “I didn’t know it would feel like this,”
He smiles, and you take in his expression. His hair is a mess, mussed and disheveled and his face is pink from his nose down to the dark, well-kissed curve of his lips. His bare chest is flushed bright pink and his eyes are bright and warm. You fight the urge to kiss him again.
“Me either,” He shakes his head, “it’s incredible,”
“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly.
He makes a soft sound to agree and then starts to push back from the wall gingerly, letting you slowly unwrap your legs from his waist and ease down to the floor.
He lets you go when you’re steady on your feet and clears his throat, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants and running a hand through his tangled locks. He’s hard, that much is obvious from the distinct outline of his cock through the gray fabric, but you do your best to look away and not think about how thick and heavy it looked just from kissing you.
“Jesus,” He adjusts his sweats again, “sorry,”
“It’s fine,” You cup your own cheeks with cool fingers, “I promise you’re not the only one,”
His eyes hold yours for a lengthy beat and then he swallows, taking a wide step back and nodding, “Right,” he shakes his head, “we’re supposed to be slowing down.”
“Slow,” You lean against the wall behind you, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to steady your thumping heart.
“I’m going over here,” He grins and walks to the far wall by the door to the bathroom, leaning back and crossing his own arms, “we really should talk,”
A pulse of anxiety flickers through you, and you realize just how quickly you went from his hotel room door to nearly falling into bed. He’s handsome, a kind man, your once upon a time crush, and certainly fated to be a good match for you, but that doesn’t mean you should throw out good sense and rush things. No matter how much your impulses were screaming at you to do just that.
You try to ignore the fact that there’s a bed between you, and you nod, “You’re right,” you finally say, “we barely know each other,”
Yunho’s smile fades just a bit, “I wouldn’t say that,”
“We’re coworkers,” The words tumble out, “I know what we’re both feeling, but,”
His brow furrows as he thinks through your words and he shakes his head, “y/n,” he cuts you off, “do you believe in soulmates?”
“Yes, of course,” Even if you hadn’t before, the way you’re feeling now would be enough to dispel any skeptic.
He takes in a quick breath, the sound sharp as he draws it through his teeth and he cocks his head slightly to the side, “You’re scared,” he massages the top of his sternum with his fingers, and you recognize your own chest is tight with anxiety, “I can feel it, talk to me.”
The instant vulnerability of the bond is startling, and you can feel your own expression crumble. It’s suddenly a bit like being an ant caught under a magnifying glass, too much sharp attention all at once and you swallow tightly, eyes flicking away from his tender gaze.
“y/n,” He murmurs, “I’m not pushing for more, not tonight,”
“Yeah,” Your voice is soft, too quiet for your own liking. Something about the way he sees you so clearly and so quickly makes you feel exposed, nervous and strangely childlike.
“Hey,” He breaks through your little thought spiral, “look at me,”
You straighten up again, finding his eyes.
“I’m just happy I found you,” He tells you, and you feel the truth of it in your gut, “we can figure everything else out together, and at our own pace, okay?”
Relief spreads through you, the knot in your chest loosening, “Promise?”
“Promise,” He nods, raising one hand with his pinky extended, “I just want us to try,”
You nod, extending your own pinky to seal it, “Me too.”
He smiles at that, “Barely know each other,” he scolds softly, “I’m offended.”
“Oh yeah?” Tension bleeds out of your shoulders.
“Mhm,” His expression is full of cheek, “I’m the one with a crush, remember? I notice things,”
Your stomach flips pleasantly and your arms relax from their tight position crossed over your chest, “What things?”
“Let’s see,” He starts, and for a brief moment you think maybe he’s bluffing, but the moment he starts you melt and he holds your gaze as he warmly recites all the little things he’s noticed about you over the years.
“You only wear silver jewelry,” he notes first, nodding towards you.
Your tight hands uncurl.
“You have a ridiculous sweet tooth,” The more he talks the more he relaxes against the far wall, “and you start getting flushed after the second shot of soju, you really are a lightweight,”
“You always pick a Big Bang song for karaoke, and you’re late to work every Monday,” He laughs a little at that and keeps going, “you don’t wear a lot of color but when you do it’s red. We’re both from Gwangju but you moved to Seoul when you were five,”
Your heart starts to beat a little faster, warmth filling you again and you don’t know if it’s your affection or his anymore, but it hardly matters.
“Um,” He takes a deep breath and glances away for a moment and then catches more threads from his memory, “you’re a Sagittarius, you’re a runner, and the last book I saw you reading was Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. I bought it, but I haven’t had a chance to read it just yet,”
“Yunho,” You find yourself smiling, a hand over your surprised lips.
“I’m just saying,” He shrugs a little, “we aren’t strangers. I know this is scary and fast and going to change the rest of our lives,”
Elation, pure joy, spills over unfettered from his side of your new emotional tether.
“But I like you,” He confesses, “I have for a while, and this,” he brushes his fingers along his soulmark, “just changes the timeline.”
He’s yours.
You push off the wall, crossing the room and all but leap back into his embrace, your arms looping around his shoulders again as you push up on tiptoe to kiss his lips.
“This is real,” You murmur.
“Yes,” He cups your cheeks, nodding as he pecks your lips again.
“You’re mine,”
“Yes,” He grins.
“Oh, this is crazy,” You laugh, forehead against his again.
“We’ll go slow,” He assures you again, “we’ll figure it out together,”
“Together,” You nod.
He dips low once more, this kiss more tender, and he separates you both before things can heat up again. “Hmm,” He glances across the bed and makes a small face at the time displayed on the digital clock, “did you eat?”
“I tried to,” You confess, “I was nervous,”
“You need to eat,” He snaps up his black shirt from the bed and slips it back on, and your chest warms. It’s strangely domestic, strangely commonplace like you’ve been in this position a thousand times before.
Yunho adjusts his shirt and then kisses your hair as he passes by you, padding over to the hotel microwave and searching through the assorted snacks and instant meals, “It’s too late for room service,”
“I’m okay,” You pull your own sweater back on and sit on the edge of his bed.
“y/n,” He glances back, a softly scolding tone.
“Really, you need to sleep,” You offer.
He dismisses that thought, “But I’m hungry, eat with me?”
You concede, and while he starts whipping up two servings of ramen, you wonder if this is what he’s going to be like. It makes sense, he’s always been a caretaking kind of person, but having it so tenderly directed at you feels right.
“When we get home,” He says as he pours in the spice packets, “I’ll take you somewhere nice,”
“This is nice,” You smile.
“y/n,” He sets the ramen on a side table and sits next to you, “this is cup noodle from a hotel microwave,”
“The company is nice,” You take the ramen happily though, and tuck into the warm meal.
“It is,”
“Mm, you know,” You slurp back some noodles and softly clear your throat, “you weren’t the only one with a crush,”
He freezes, letting his noodles drop back into his cup, “What?”
“I’ve always liked you,” Your own confession feels easier after his, “I put it aside since we work together, but I guess, I mean, what I’m trying to say is that we both felt it before the mark, you’re not alone in that.”
“I had no idea,”
“I’m very professional,” You tease him lightly.
He nudges you and tucks back into his noodles, “How long?”
“Hmm,” You get more comfortable, crossing your legs and scooting back a little onto the mattress, “I thought you were cute when we first met,”
“God,” He groans, “we were such kids,”
You nod, swallowing another bite, “Mhm, you had that blonde hair,”
He laughs.
“I remember thinking, ‘that one’s trouble’,” You confess.
“Me?” His eyebrows perk up, “I’m perfectly nice,”
“Trouble as in you’re my type,” You roll your eyes, “but I don’t think the crush properly came until later. You’ve always made me laugh, and when I realized how I was feeling I just did my best to keep some distance,”
He nods, face getting a little serious, “I know what you mean,”
That knowledge leaves you both a little quiet. The late hour, the adrenaline come down, all of it barrels into you at the same moment as the next anxious thought. How in the world were you both going to navigate this with a contract as tight as theirs and the public eye always watching?
“Yunho,” You murmur, the last of your noodles left to go cold as you sit with that thought, “Are we going to be able to figure this out?”
“Figure what out?” He looks genuinely confused by your question, “Us?”
“You’re an idol,” You nod towards him, “I’m staff,”
He rests a hand on your knee, “We’ll be fine,”
“Aren’t your contracts,” You trail off, letting him fill in the blanks.
“They’re strict, yes,” He nods, “year seven,”
Dating, romance, even the perception of it was more than discouraged by companies in this industry, their artists contractually obligated to be single and available and dedicated only to their fans. Five years would have been the industry standard to prevent any idol from being caught out with a partner, let alone a potential soulmarked one, but seven is excessive.
You blanch, “That’s almost two years away,”
“We will find a way,” He says, “we’re not the first people in the industry this has happened to,”
“Really?” You perk up, “Who?”
He falls short, “Well, I don’t know exactly, but it’s bound to have happened.”
“And then ruined their careers,” You groan, flopping back flat on the mattress and covering your face with a hand, “which is why we’ve never heard of them,”
Yunho laughs, earnestly laughs, and takes the half empty ramen cup out of your hand to discard, “Maybe, but for now, let’s just stay positive. Get to know eachother better,”
You nod.
“Nothing can change the fact that we found each other,” He points out, dropping down onto his side on the bed next to you, “and I’m okay with that.”
“So we just lie to everyone?” You chew at the inside of your lip, staring up at the white ceiling.
“Hey,” Yunho’s fingers tuck under your chin and draw your eyes to him, “I know you’re anxious,”
You sigh, letting his softness calm you again.
“I know,” He repeats, “I am too, but we don’t have to decide anything tonight. We’re both tired and it’s been an emotional day,”
“Okay,” You nod, “okay, yes, you’re right,”
His thumb strokes over your cheek again, and you watch him exhale and sink further into your touch, “Will you stay tonight?”
That wakes you up.
Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?”
“Just to sleep,” He assures you, “I just… I don’t want to be without you yet,”
“I need to get back before Iseul wakes up if we do that,” You note with a grimace.
“What time?” He glances back to the clock.
“Seven,” You say, “her alarm is set for seven-thirty,”
“We can do that,” He grabs his phone off the side table and sets an alarm, “we’ll get up,”
The pull between your bodies is so strong you’re fairly sure you would have stayed no matter the consequences, but you nod, “Then I’ll stay,”
He grins and pushes himself off the bed, “I’ve got clothes, if you want to get comfortable,”
“Sure,” you sit up and wait for him to find things in his still packed suitcase.
“Um,” He pulls a pair of black sweatpants from the bag, “these should work, and if you get cold,”
You smile as he grabs a gray hoodie and comes back to you.
As you start to pull off your sweater again, he turns around and leaves his back to you, “Sorry,”
“Thanks,” You chuckle, making short work of changing. You’re swimming in his clothes, but his sweatshirt smells like him and you just want to bury your face into it, “you can turn around now,”
His shoulders relax as he turns back, and you watch his lips part as he takes you in.
“What?”
“You look cute,” He clears his throat, shrugging off his reaction.
You smile and ease back onto the bed, “Oh, I get it,” you laugh, “is your guy brain on fire because I’m wearing your clothes? Is this some kind of… you won the competition, ownership thing?”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes, kneeling on the bed to shuffle closer, “No competition when you’re literally fated for me,”
“Right,” You let the word drag out on your tongue to tease him.
“But I like taking care of you already, and now you’re warm and comfortable,” He collapses next to you onto the mattress with a sigh, “and I know I don’t own you, but you are mine, just like I’m yours now. I won’t apologize for liking you in my clothes or in my bed, for liking when you look like my girlfriend,”
Warmth blooms in your cheeks and you duck your face into the sheets.
“Now come get under the covers,” He maneuvers the duvet, “it’s late, you were dead on your feet today,”
His voice is so warm and familiar, and you slide into the covers beside him.
In bed you keep a little distance, and despite the number of times both of you say that you should go to sleep, your conversation is almost impossible to stop. Yunho holds your hand in the middle space of the mattress between your bodies, and in the dim lighting of the hotel room you whisper thought after thought back and forth. A million things coming to mind you need to tell each other so suddenly now that you’ve found each other.
As you talk his fingers travel, restlessly stroking your skin, up and down your arm and tapping out patterns. When his palm slides back and forth over the sharp lines of the tattoos on your upper arm, and you feel the question slipping out of your lips and revealing more about yourself than you intended before you can catch it.
“Your parents,” You blurt out, “will they be happy?” He’s spoken about them so much over the past hour that you can’t help but ask him that question point blank.
“So happy,” He responds with ease, a laugh on his lips, “they always worried me being an idol meant I’d never be able to find the one and settle down, they’re going to love this story,”
You smile at the easy way he calls you ‘the one’, but the question you really asked still remains unanswered and you exhale softly, “But,” you manage, “will they be happy with me?”
Yunho stills, reaching across the bed to hook his finger under your chin and draw your eyes up to his again, “Very happy,” he says, “just like I am.”
Your muscles relax, his words a soothing balm, and you adjust your position on the pillow beneath you, “Just checking,”
“Mhm,” He studies your face, “jagi, why wouldn’t they be happy with you?”
The endearment slips off his lips with ease, and a burst of warmth spreads through you. You’ve never needed pet names and softness like this from a partner, but from him it makes your heart quicken.
The momentary elation fades though, and his question comes back into your mind. You take a deep breath, you owe it to him to tell him now, “My family won’t be happy,”
“With me?” His eyebrows raise.
“It’s me,” You shake your head, “my parents have difficult ideals, and I’ve never pleased them. It wouldn’t matter who you were, they… they’ll find a way to not be happy for me.”
His eyes soften, and his thumb strokes along your jaw, “I’m sorry,”
“It is what it is,”
“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly.
You shake your head, “No, they don’t really believe in soulmarks,”
You watch his eyes widen in surprise.
“Unless,” You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “the match is ‘fortuitous’,”
“For status?” He surmises.
“Status, money,” You shrug, “connection. But I think I could marry the next president and they’d still find a way to be disappointed in me,”
His jaw flexes tense for just a moment, before his expression smooths over again.
“Anyway,” You clear the bad thoughts away as quickly as they came, “my sister and I never went along like they wanted, like my cousins and the rest of my family, so we are the great disappointments. It’s not… it’s fine, but, I guess you should know before we, you know,”
He smiles, a bit of amusement in his expression that you can’t place, “Did you think having bad parents would scare me off?”
“It could,”
“No,” He slides a hand under your side and tugs you across the mattress to press a fast kiss to your lips, “it never could.”
“But I’m,” You start, all the reasons why a partner might care ringing in your ears.
“Beautiful?” He cuts you off, “Just my type? If it’s anything else I don’t want to hear you say it,”
Your stomach flip flops hard and you push lightly against his chest to get him to stop.
“The thing is,” He brushes your hair back from your cheek, “my parents are soulmates. I grew up in a house full of a lot of love, even when they were being strict and scolding us.”
Your smile at his warm expression.
“So I know they’ll love you,” He explains, “they know what this feels like, what it means. I have plenty of family for us both,”
Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment.
“Your sister, though,” He grounds you out of the bad thoughts without even thinking, “you two are close?”
“Very,”
“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles.
“You two would get along great, my sister and her wife both, actually,”
Yunho nods, listening attentively, “Do they have kids?”
“Not yet,” You groan, “but I’m dying to be an auntie,”
His thumb drags a comforting line across your cheekbone, his expression warm and affectionate, “Cute,”
You sink into the pillows, a yawn creeping up to your lips, “She’s going to lose her mind when I call her,”
“Yeah?”
“Mm,” You huff a laugh, “she thought that when I started working here I should have found an inconspicuous way to bump into all of you to test possible bonds. She’s going to be riding the ‘I told you so’ train.”
“She’s funny,” He smirks.
“Very,” You sigh, unconsciously cuddling into his warmth.
“Has it been a while since you’ve seen her?” He asks softly, adjusting his arms around you so that you’re cradled against his chest with the pillows at your back.
“Mhm,” You yawn again, the warmth of his body settling the last of the adrenaline inside you, “a while,”
“Let’s find a day off after the tour,” He tucks the duvet around you.
“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy.
“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead.
“Yunho,” You yawn again, dipping your forehead into his chest, “God, I’m so tired again,”
“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,”
You hum softly, fingers slipping under the edge of his shirt just to feel a little skin, “I like that,” you murmur, “I like you,”
“I like you too,” He chuckles, “now go to sleep,”
A piece of you wants to protest, wants more time cocooned in this day with him, but something about his body feels so right. After a week of sleeping poorly, your body tight and anxious and heart fluttering for no reason at all, when he touches you, your mind goes blissfully blank.
Your muscles relax, your breath dropping low and soft in your chest.
Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.
You’re supposed to wake up to an alarm. Early enough that you could slip back into your hotel room and your own bed to yawn and stretch next to Iseul and make her believe you were there the whole night. That’s what was supposed to happen.
Instead, you wake to the heavy sound of a hotel door and Seonghwa’s voice, Yunho jolting awake beside you.
“Oh my god,” Seonghwa says for what sounds like the third time to your fuzzy sleep-addled brain, “oh my god?”
“Hyung,” Yunho pushes himself up, his arms unwinding from around you, “hey, don’t freak out,”
“Don’t freak out,” Seonghwa’s eyes blow wide, “are you fucking kidding me? Hongjoong is going to kill you,”
“You don’t understand,” Sleep is still heavy on him and he shakes his head to try to pull himself away.
“I understand plenty,” Seonghwa counters, “how long have you been lying to us?”
His reaction surprises you, and you ease yourself up to sit next to Yunho. You’re not sure what to say or not say, you don’t know what they’ve discussed in the past when it comes to dating and relationships, but by Seonghwa’s outburst you can guess it’s honesty at a minimum.
Yunho’s face falls, “No, it’s not that,”
“I can tell you what it looks like,” Seonghwa lowers his voice to what amounts to a stage whisper.
“Hyung,” Yunho rubs his eyes, running a hand through his mop of black hair.
“It looks like you’ve been sneaking around,” He continues, “how long have you two been fucking?”
“Hey,” Yunho’s voice sharpens, and his hand crosses your body to anchor on your opposite thigh.
Seonghwa’s eyes track it and he shakes his head, “This is so stupid,” he steps back in surprise, “you’re both being so, incredibly stupid.”
Yunho gives you a squeeze and opens his mouth to reply but Seonghwa keeps going.
“Naive is what it is,”
Irritation bubbles in your gut and you can’t stop yourself, “Seonghwa, will you shut up for one second?”
He stops in his tracks, mouth falling open, “What?”
“Can you please,” You hold his gaze, “please, just listen to Yunho for a minute before you jump to conclusions.”
He shifts, taking a step back and crossing his arms, and then he looks to Yunho.
Yunho finds your eyes quickly, silently asking, and you give him a nod.
“Okay,” Yunho runs a hand through his hair again, “I’ll just say it.”
Seonghwa waits, his expression completely neutral except for the irritated corner of his lips.
“y/n is my soulmate,” Yunho squeezes your thigh again and you slip your hand into his to twine your fingers together, “we didn’t know, but now we do.”
Seonghwa’s brows go high, shock filling his features.
“We’re not hiding,” You add, “we just… it’s just,”
“How long?” Seonghwa manages.
“Soundcheck yesterday,” Yunho says, “we haven’t known long enough to lie, hyung.”
“You’re sure?” He looks between you both, and you know what he’s thinking. How could it be possible to know each other for years and not know.
“We’re sure,” You answer confidently, calmly, “I swear,”
“It’s real,” Yunho’s thumb strokes across knuckles, “it’s very real.”
Seonghwa swallows, taking in the news and sinks back against the hotel dresser, “Well, fuck,”
“Yeah,” Yunho laughs.
“You were off timing yesterday,” Seonghwa points out, “and distracted,”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Yunho grimaces.
“No, but,” He shrugs, “I know you and you’re never off time.”
“It wasn’t easy to focus on the show yesterday,” Yunho admits.
“I’m sorry,” You nudge him with your shoulder, knowing a huge portion of that must have been the panic flooding his side of the link.
He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to be sorry for,”
When you look back up, Seonghwa is smiling and he sighs, “Oh, you’ve both got it bad.”
“Obviously,” You hide your face in your sweatshirt sleeve.
“So, what’s the plan?” Seonghwa asks, “Because you can’t act like this around anyone else,”
Your mouth feels dry.
“We don’t know,” Yunho answers, “we have to figure that out, for now I think we just try to keep things normal.”
Seonghwa nods and then leans forward, “Listen, I know you’re not asking for my advice,”
You both wait.
“But you're my brother,” Seonghwa says unequivocally, “so I’m going to give you some anyway.”
Yunho nods.
“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” Seonghwa points out, “and I’m sure it will be hard to act like acquaintances in front of everyone, but you have to do it, at least until you make a plan.”
“Yeah,” Yunho’s cheeks are a little pink and he squeezes your hand.
“No one fires the idol for things like this,” He reminds you both, “so for her sake, put it away for today.”
“He’s right,” You nod, “today we go back to coworkers,”
Yunho draws your clasped hands up and kisses your fingers, “Okay,”
“You’re lucky I offered to check on you,” Seonghwa sighs heavily, “if any of the managers came in,”
“Check on me?” Yunho perks up at that, “Hwa, why,”
Things come into focus for you at that moment, how bright the hotel room is with sunlight, how well rested you really feel. You twist in the bed and look at the digital clock, “Oh no,”
“You were late,” Seonghwa explains, “we figured you overslept, I offered to use the spare key to get you up.”
“Fuck,” Yunho curses.
You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm.
“Iseul is going to fucking kill me,” You roll out of bed, your hands breaking apart as you scramble for you phone, “what the hell am I going to tell her?”
Your phone reads nine-thirty. In thirty minutes you’re supposed to be packed into a van and on the way to the venue and when you look at the collection of notifications your stomach churns.
Three calls from Iseul, and a lengthy string of text messages.
Did you already get up and get ready?
Your work bag is still here…
Not funny, girl, where are you?
Did you make it back last night?
Can you answer me??
I’m getting worried. I haven’t heard anything - You haven’t even read these?
You better not be dead in a ditch, I’ll kill you myself.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Your hands are trembling as you tap out the fastest reply - Alive, be right there.
Yunho’s a whirlwind behind you, stripping out of his sleep clothes and yanking on whatever outfit is at the top of his suitcase, “It’s fine, it’s going to be fine,”
“Sure,” You search the floor for your jeans and dart into the bathroom, “my best friend is going to murder me though,”
You change at lightning speed, swapping his sweats for your jeans and then tying up your hair into a messy bun before pushing back out into the main room.
“Everyone’s downstairs,” Seonghwa offers, “you shouldn’t run into anyone on the way back to your room.”
“Good, okay, good,” Your heart is pounding, “where’s my room key?”
“Here,” Yunho darts forwards and finds the little envelope, passing it to you, “take a breath,”
“I have to go,” You manage, “I have to think of something,”
“Don’t kiss and tell,” Seonghwa offers and he’s being funny but it’s vaguely helpful.
“Wait,” Yunho grabs your hand and tugs you back, snapping your phone out of your hand.
“Yunho, I don’t,” You start to say but he waves you off.
He types fast, adding himself as a contact in Kakao Talk, “My number,” he explains.
Seonghwa huffs a laugh.
You take the phone back and tuck it into your pocket, “I’ll message you later,”
“Good,” He dips forwards and presses one warm, tender kiss to your lips, “now get out of here,”
You kiss him back, just once and fast, a little shred of self indulgence before you have to act like he’s just another guy, and then you’re darting out of the room, shouting back a thank you at Seonghwa as you go.
You navigate the halls fast, and opt to take the stairs to get down one floor faster and more inconspicuously. You take a deep breath when you get to your hotel door, and then you dive.
“So you are alive,” Iseul’s waiting, just like you thought she might be. She’s sitting on your still made bed, her phone in her hands and a tense expression on her face, “I was just about to tell the managers you were missing,”
“I’m so sorry, seriously, I didn’t mean to worry you,” You take a few steps into the room.
Her eyes flick over you, and you realize at the moment her eyes widen that you’re still wearing Yunho’s hoodie, your sweater still discarded on his bedroom floor.
“You hooked up with someone?” Her voice spikes, “Are you kidding me?”
Thankfully the hoodie is plain, just a heather gray with no identifying attributes that scream his name, but you’re still swimming in it and it’s clear you’re rumpled from bed.
“Listen,” You hold up your hands, “I didn’t mean to not text you, I just fell asleep,”
“With some guy?” She stands.
“Yes,” You settle on some version of the truth.
“Who?” She flounders, “We’re supposed to text each other,”
And you always did, when either one of you went home with someone there was always a little preemptive safety report. A name, an address, a shared location, something so that you weren’t completely alone in the world with a strange guy.
“I’m sorry,” You say again.
She studies you, and it’s like she’s looking through you.
“Oh my god,” Her eyes widen, “we know him.”
“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat.
She points at you, “I’m right!”
“It’s not a big deal,” You skirt around her words.
“The only reason you wouldn’t text me is if you were with someone we both know,” She narrows her eyes, “so give it up.”
“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,”
“Why are you being so weird?”
“Iseul,” You sigh, avoiding her gaze, “I just woke up in a panic, and I have like fifteen minutes to get showered, can you give me the third degree later?”
“I’m not letting this go,”
“Yeah,” You pull off Yunho’s sweatshirt and head to the bathroom, “I know, but we have work.”
“Work with a coworker you slept with,” She stands in the doorway while you start the shower, and you realize her tone isn’t so much as angry anymore but probing.
“I didn’t sleep with him,” You groan, “well, I guess I did, but we didn’t have sex, okay?”
“That’s awfully cozy for a one night stand,” She crosses her arms, “unless you’re seeing someone? Are you seeing someone?”
“No,” You test the water heat and unbutton your jeans, “I swear I’ll explain another time, but can you just drop it for today? Or do you want to stand here and watch me shower?”
“Fine,” She concedes, “you will tell me?”
“I swear,” You nod, “I want to tell you, but I’m not ready yet, okay?”
Her eyes soften up at that, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” You nod, “but I’m having big feelings about it and I need to work it out,”
“Oh,” In all the years you’ve known her, she’s never seen you in love or even close, and she just blinks, “got it,”
“Can I shower now?” You gesture towards the running water.
“Yeah,” She steps back, “yeah, but I’m still mad you didn’t text me.”
“Okay,”
“And I’m still going to guess who it is,” She smirks.
“Fine,”
Her smile widens and she rolls her eyes, “I bet it’s one of the BB guys, isn’t it? You always like a dancer,”
She turns the corner before she can watch you blushing harder, so nearly on the money with her guess, but you put it all out of your mind for now and focus on your day. You’re late, and it’s about to be another long one. You’ll have time for everything else later, if you can just keep your cool.
Work is bizarre to say the least. You and Yunho both do an excellent job of not looking at each other except for when he’s in your makeup chair, and you’re getting better and better at ignoring both San’s and Seonghwa’s nervous glances.
This time you start the makeup early, less time pressure with the schedule adjustments, and the night goes off without a hitch. Soundcheck to stage to VIP benefits, it’s a whirlwind and you’re grateful for the distractions everywhere you look.
You can still feel him, emotions from his side of the link ebbing and flowing throughout the day, but the sharp intensity of yesterday has dulled a bit after your night together. In quiet moments you find yourself thinking about his lips, or the way his hands held you as you tumbled into sleep, but you push it down and stay professional.
As the show ends, Iseul ropes you into team dinner, desperate to observe who you interact with and how, still on her quest to find your mystery bed partner, but the boys aren’t there and so there’s nothing for her to really see.
Later, with Iseul passed out from one too many shots of soju, you slip back into Yunho’s hoodie and cuddle into the warmth of your own bed. You need more sleep, you know that, but your brain isn’t cooperating. You toss and turn in the sheets, body feeling like a taut cord, and all you can think of is him.
You miss him.
It’s not even two days of having him in your life like this and you feel nervous and achy without him. There’s no way you’ll survive two years of this.
Over an hour passes as you sigh, changing positions again and again, and then your phone finally buzzes. You scramble to see if it’s a message from him, nearly dropping your phone in the process.
Can’t sleep? - He must be feeling your restlessness.
Not at all - You reply, chest feeling warm at the contact.
Little bubbles pop up immediately to indicate he’s typing and then another message pops on your screen - You’d think after last night we’d both be exhausted.
So you’re as awake as I am?
Just can’t relax. I liked having you here last night. - He confesses.
You roll over in the bedding onto your front and push the pillow under your chest before you keep texting - I liked it too. I’d come up except Iseul wouldn’t lay off guessing who I was with this morning.
Oh? Did she guess correctly? - You can practically see the smirk on his face.
Nope - You tease back.
Was she upset? - He asks.
At first, but I told her I would tell her soon I just needed some time - You reply.
That’s good, honest. - His message makes you smile.
How was Seonghwa? - You tap out.
Fine…. stressing and acting like a hyung, you know - He says.
You smile and type out another message - Is he keeping this to himself for now?
Yes - Yunho’s message comes in, and then another - For now, he knows we need to decide things first.
That’s good - You send back.
Things lull for a moment, and you try to think of something more to say, but Yunho swoops in with a question that makes you bite your lip to keep from laughing - Who did Iseul guess you were with? Was I even on the list?
I thought you’d be happy she didn’t guess - You reply.
Bubbles appear immediately, then another message - I’m a little offended, I’m the obvious choice.
Why’s that? - You tease him.
You feel something warm in your chest, and his next message flies back - I thought I was your type?
You stifle another laugh - You are, she’s not very observant.
So who did she guess?
Your belly flip flops and you hide your face in the pillow for a moment. His obvious jealousy, even just to tease you, is making your heart quicken and you can’t stop yourself from making it harder on him.
You take a breath and reply - About half the BB crew and a few of your managers.
The replies don’t come for a moment, and you nervously refresh the chat.
Finally a message comes in - I’m trying to think of something funny to say, but I’m actually just irrationally jealous.
She was just teasing, no need to be jealous - You smile into your hand.
Doesn’t matter - He says - Now I’m just here alone wondering which of our coworkers Iseul thinks you have chemistry with
He is jealous. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the swooping sensation in your belly and press your legs a little tighter together. If you close your eyes you can feel the echo of his hands on you from last night, and all you want in the world is for him to come down here and kiss you hard like that again.
With a slow exhale you return to your phone - Don’t be jealous, Yunho. We both know I’m yours.
Yeah? - His reply comes after a beat - No need to be jealous then.
Exactly - You reply.
I bet you like it a little though - His message flies in as yours sends.
You feel warm all over and you run a nervous hand through your hair before replying - No, I don’t.
Jagi, you forget I can feel how worked up you’re getting.
Your stomach clenches, drops and twists. He’s going to be the death of you and you’re still just flirting.
You work up the courage and finally send your reply - You’re the one that pinned me to the wall last night.
I’ve been thinking about that all day - The message reply is fast.
You smile and bite your lip, snuggling further into the mattress and trying to ignore the growing pulse between your thighs - You did seem distracted during rehearsals.
You feel warmth in your chest, and you know exactly how much your flirting is affecting him. Another text pings through and you shiver when you read it - How could I not be distracted with you there? All I could think about was the way you said my name last night.
Your thighs press together - Yunho?
Yes, jagi?
Or more whiny, was it? Yunho-ya? - You type it out fully, emphasizing the extended sound, knowing exactly what he wants to hear from the way he gripped you last night.
The room is suddenly hot, and your heart beats faster to sync with his.
It takes a moment for him to respond, bubbles popping up and then receding again and you wonder how he’s lying in bed. If he’s hard already, if he’s palming himself? You wonder if he sleeps naked when he’s alone and youre core clenches, arousal pooling in your gut and you know he can feel the threads of it. When he finally presses send on his message you have to cover your mouth to keep quiet.
Feeling needy? Are you squirming around in that hotel bed wishing for me, sweetheart?
You feel that message from your top to your toes and you steal a fast glance at the bed next to you. Iseul is sound asleep, turned away from you and snoring softly, and you let out a relieved, shuddering breath.
You could pump the brakes here, tease him and find a way to say goodnight, but you simply can’t. Need and arousal overwhelms you and you tap back your reply fast - I’ve been aching all day.
Do you have headphones?
The question catches you off guard, but you write back - Yes, airpods.
Put them in - He says, and you swallow tightly, reaching for the little headphone case on your bedside table.
Your fingers are shaking as you take them out of the case and put them in, making sure they’re connected before you reply - Done.
His call lights up your phone, ringing in your headphones and you swipe to answer with a panicked glance at the bed next to you, but Iseul sleeps on, none the wiser.
“y/n?” His voice is so rich and quiet, a little raspy edge after singing all night and you nearly moan.
“Hi,” You whisper as soft as you can, “I can’t,”
“Don’t talk,” He soothes you, “don’t wake Iseul up, I’ll talk to you and you can text me back, okay?”
You minimize the call and open your chat back up, sending him a quick emoji to acknowledge his words.
“Perfect,” He laughs softly, “this is way easier than texting. Listen, I know we said slow, but I’d love to help you relax if you want that. If not, I can just say goodnight, it’s up to you.”
You exhale softly, a needy thrill in your gut - Let’s relax together.
“Oh,” He sighs pleasantly, “yes, I’d love that.”
You want me? - You ask.
“You can feel how much I do,” He responds, “I’m sitting here convincing myself not to come downstairs and get my hands on you.”
You hum softly, shifting in the sheets and relaxing deeper into the pillows.
You hear his own breath, the way he parts his lips with a wet sound, “Can you tell me what position you’re in?”
You tap out the reply - Lying on my front, on my stomach.
“Hmm,” He sounds pleased, “I bet you look so cute, all twisted up in the sheets and blushing,”
I was tossing and turning.
“I bet you were,” He groans a little, “I tried everything. I hit the gym, cold shower, did some deep breathing, but you have me so keyed up I can’t sleep,”
You send him another emoji, the blushing face.
He laughs, the rumble of it too deep and warm in your ear with your headphones in.
You tap out another message - What position are you in? Trying to picture it.
You hear him shift around in the sheets, “I’m on my back,”
Wearing?
He chuckles, “Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking what you’re wearing?”
I asked you first.
“Fair,” He shifts again, and you picture him restless on his back in the bed you shared the night before, “just boxers,”
A heavy sigh passes through your lips.
“And you?”
You wish it were sexier all of a sudden, but that just wouldn’t be practical in a room with your friend so you tell him honestly - Pajamas, the button down kind, they’re gray.
“God, you’re adorable,” The covers on his end shift again, “wish you were up here with me.”
Me too
“This is probably better,” He says though, “I don’t think I could hold myself back for another night.”
Me either - You confess.
“y/n,” His voice warms, low in his chest, “jagiya, can I help you? Can I tell you what I want you to do?”
Your hands are shaking and you type the reply so fast there’s a typo that you have to fix - Pfease - Please.
He chuckles, “Alright, get comfortable, just listen to my voice, okay?”
You message him one last thought - What about you?
“I’m… I’m, uh,” He lets out a shaky breath, “I’m already stroking for you,”
You press your lips together to keep from making a sound, dropping your forehead to the pillow in front of you.
That’s so hot - You text him quickly when you hear him say your name, probably a little nervous he came on too strong.
He hums, “Good,” he says, “then don’t worry about me, just listen to my voice.”
You set your phone to the side, snuggling into the mattress and the pillows just like he asked for, sparing one more glance at Iseul to confirm she’s still completely out of it.
“Comfy?” He asks when you stop shifting around.
“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper.
“Good,” He sighs, “now slip one of your hands under your cute little pajamas, between your thighs.”
You slide your arm down, tucking it under your body and into your sleep pants.
“Under your panties too,” He says, his voice a little husky.
“Mhm,” You murmur again, following his words.
“Tease a little for me,” He instructs you, “not too fast, just your fingertips on the outside,”
You breathe low and slow, gently passing the pads of your fingers over your slit, just barely ghosting against the hard nub of your clit.
“I bet you look so pretty right now,” He groans a little and you hear the sound of sheets, “you make the cutest faces when you’re feeling good,”
You make the tiniest noise of acknowledgement, fingers still brushing your cunt.
“Can’t wait to see you fall apart for real,” He confesses, a strain in his tone as he sighs, and you picture him. His long legs spread wide in the bed, stretching from corner to corner, his boxer briefs pushed down and his hand fisting his cock.
You’re going to lose it when you finally get to touch him again.
“You can touch now,” He murmurs, getting your attention back, “are you wet?”
You push your fingers through your folds and sigh when you feel just how slick and swollen you are. With your other hand you find the phone nearby and tap out a quick message - So wet
“That’s good, that’s so good,”
Your fingers start to circle on your oversensitive nub and there’s no way he won’t have you coming in five minutes or less with it feeling this good and his heavy breath in your ear.
“R-rub your clit for me,” He pants and your eyes roll, you can hear the sounds of the sheets rhythmically swishing as he pumps his cock harder, “get your fingers nice and wet,”
You whimper into the pillow, biting down hard on your cheek to keep yourself in check.
“Oh, fuck,” He groans, “sound so pretty,”
You rub harder, faster, your legs stretching wide under the downy comforter to give you better access.
“Baby,” He gets your attention with that, “push two fingers inside yourself, imagine I’m there with you,”
You shift, hand slipping lower and body arching to slide your middle and ring finger as deep as they’ll go. You stay mostly quiet this time, but your breathing is heavy and you’re sure he can hear it.
“Close your eyes,” He murmurs, “picture my fingers,”
You gasp softly.
“Grind,” He tells you, “grind your pussy on my palm and feel my fingers fucking you,”
You bite back a moan, only the slip of a soft sound into the microphone as you start to rock, rolling your hips and working your clit against your hand as you sink into his fantasy. You always took him for soft, the romantic type who’d blush at saying the word ‘pussy’ let alone talking you through what’s bound to be the headiest orgasm of your life, but you’ve never been so happy to be wrong.
“Yes,” Yunho moans and you shudder, “I can hear you moving, you’re doing so good,”
Pleasurable stars burst behind your eyes and you grind harder into your slick palm.
“So good,” He groans and you hear him roll in the bedding, his voice changing to something lower and breathier, and then the rhythmic rock of sheets from his side of the phone tells you all you need to know. You can almost see it, Yunho braced on his forearms, hips thrusting to drive his cock in and out of his hot fist, his face buried in the pillow you slept on the night before.
Heat melts through you, your body alight, and you grapple to find the phone again - Close
“Already?” He says in a flushed exhale, “You’re so hot, that’s so hot,”
You need him to talk to you, you need him to tell you what to do, and you whimper into the bedding as you work your body faster up to the peak.
“You gonna come for me?” He murmurs, “Yeah? Hmm?”
You drop the phone and press a hand over your lips, stifling the threat of a real moan.
“Let go,” His voice is so low in your ear you can practically feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, “come for me,”
Your legs are trembling, knees digging into the mattress and sweat gathered on your brow, and you feel the pressure start to crack open inside you, “Coming,” you whimper into your fingers so he knows, and then it breaks.
“God, good girl, yes,” He groans, “I’m coming with you, fuck,”
Your body curls into itself as you release, locking up in pleasure as you feel wave after wave of heat. You bite down on your knuckle to keep from making a sound, silently falling apart, dimly aware somewhere in your gut that half the heat you felt was his, that part of that pleasure was his own.
Yunho moans in your ear as you ride the sensations, panting and cursing and you can’t wait to feel him pulsing inside you while he sounds this good.
You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover, but when your brain starts to connect again you realize you’re panting against the cool flat of the mattress and both your phone and pillow are nowhere to be found. You swallow hard and pop your head up, but Iseul hasn’t moved an inch and you thank god for her liberal use of melatonin while traveling.
In your ear you register the sound of Yunho’s breath and the end of a sentence, “still there?”
He must have been talking, and you try to focus in on the sound of him now as you slip your hand out from between your sticky thighs.
He exhales slowly and you hear him shifting around, “y/n, baby, are you there?”
“Uh-huh,” You manage.
“Sleepy?” He murmurs, misreading your sound, “That’s okay,”
You make a tiny noise of protest and search the bed for your phone.
“Baby?” He’s confused and you grin at his sleepy sated tone.
Sliding off the bed onto nearly boneless legs, you find your pillow off to the side and your phone underneath. You snap it up and send a message quickly - Wait
“Wait?” He breathes, “Sure, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here,”
You tiptoe to the bathroom as quietly as you can and then shut yourself behind the heavy door, flicking on the light and collapsing to sit on the closed toilet lid.
You disconnect your earbuds and bring your phone to your ear, “Hey,”
“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?”
“Yeah,” You smile, still a little breathless, “Hiding in the bathroom for a sec so I could actually talk to you,”
He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,”
“Are you okay?” You find yourself asking, a little nervous tumble in your gut.
“Me?” He says, “I’m incredible, you’re incredible,”
“Yeah?” You draw your knees up, wrapping your arms around yourself and smiling into the phone.
“That wasn’t too much, was it?” He checks, but you still hear the sound of him calling you ‘good girl’ and you shiver.
“Not too much,” You sigh into the phone.
“Good,” He hums, “I thought so, I was trying to pay attention to how you were feeling, but it was a little,”
“Hard to focus?” You offer and he laughs.
“Yeah,” He sighs again, heavy and sated.
“I can’t wait for this tour to be over,” You confess, “I just want to be with you,”
You feel a pang in your chest and listen as Yunho rolls in the sheets, “I know, I want that too,”
A little lump forms in your throat and you breathe through it, “Yunho,”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Have you ever felt like this before?” Your thundering heart has started to slow, and you let your eyes close as you murmur the question.
“Never,” He murmurs, “but I felt this way before we touched,”
You feel his tenderness wrap around your heart as if he were in the room with you, and with a small smile you whisper, “I thought you said you weren’t holding a candle?”
“I lied,” He says softly, “it’s been you for a long time,”
He doesn’t say it, not in so many words, but you feel the way he loves you through the link in a wave. It’s as good as any confession to you, just as honest if not more so.
“I wish I could come upstairs,” You manage, tears pricking your eyes.
You hear him swallow and breathe a slow breath through his nose, “Soon, I promise. We’re going to do this right,”
“I know,”
“Are your headphones still in?” He asks
“No, but I can switch back,”
“Put them back in and go get back in bed,” He softly instructs, “it’s late, but I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?”
“Okay,” You swap back over to your earbuds and adjust them.
“Get back to bed,” You can hear the smile in his voice.
“Yunho,” You interrupt him, “thank you for staying with me,”
“Always,” He says, and for the first time in your life when someone says they’ll be there, you believe it.
“I’m going back out,” Your voice drops to a whisper, “good night,”
“Mhm,” He listens as you slip back into bed, “just get comfortable, just breathe. I’m right here with you, jagiya, I’ll be right here.”
He murmurs to you softly until your mind is sinking into darkness, body finally unspooling and letting you drop off into sleep. It’s not the same as his arms around you, but it settles you more than any meditation, his voice a steady whisper through your dreams.
In the morning when you wake the call is still connected and the first sound you hear is his slow breath and the steady beat of his heart.
#yunho#jeong yunho#honeyhotteoks fic#yunho x reader#yunho fic#yunho ff#yunho smut#yunho fluff#ateez#ateez fic#ateez ff
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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.”
#seventeen imagines#seventeen reactions#seventeen headcanons#seventeen x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen smut#seventeen#seventeen fluff#svt smut#svt imagines#seventeen fic#seventeen x you#seventeen x yn#seventeen x oc#seventeen x y/n#woozi smut#woozi#woozi x reader#svt woozi#seventeen woozi#woozi fluff#woozi angst#woozi imagines#woozi scenarios#woozi reactions#woozi drabbles#woozi headcanons#jihoon smut#lee jihoon#jihoon x reader
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honeysuckle
boyfriend!jungkook, established relationship, smut
summary : according to your boyfriend, a little competition won't hurt anyone especially when the game is his favorite. Making you feel good.
warnings : mature, strong language, heavy on the smut, a little fluff thrown in there, fingering, pussy slapping, he asks for consent, they're freaky, dick piercing, ass slapping, hickeys, sex in a jacuzzi, reverse cowgirl, riding, jungkook wants oc so bad, dirty talk, he calls oc sweetheart, unprotected sex. if i missed something, do let me know.
a/n : hi my loves, here’s your promised smutty treat. tbvh that picture has not left my mind ever since i saw it lmao. I love you guys so so much. You're so loved and cherished. Please don't read this in front of your parents. also @rpwprpwprpwprw was the sweetest to ask for a tag <33 xoxo
"Oh yeah baby, just like that"
"You fuck me so good"
'Take my cock like a good slut you are"
Any other day, you're all about sex positivity and letting your body get what it wants but today of all days, your neighbors want to ruin the peace that you so desperately craved.
Your boyfriend, Jungkook had left early for a business meeting promising you to come back as soon as he gets done with it. As much as you missed him, you had felt the need to have some time for yourself. You thrive on being Jungkook's girlfriend, it's all butterfly in the stomach, princess treatment kind of love but you can't lie about wishing for some alone time just for yourself. Finally, you were getting it. You had it all planned bit by bit.
Step 1 : take an everything shower
Step 2 : cook something delicious for yourself while wave to earth plays in the background
Step 3 : read a romantasy novel you've been anticipating for a long time.
Step 4 : if sleepy, sleep. If not, take out your pink best friend from the bedside drawer and seek your pleasure listening to Jungkook's voice recording you had him record the other day. It always works.
Step 3 and you're already at the verge of giving up. It appears the people next door didn't exactly like your plan and they wanted to make you realize how lonely you are. Screaming at your face, "Haha guess who's not getting a dick". God forbid if a girl wants to have quite and peaceful night while romanticizing the shit out of it.
You slam the book on the bed and sigh. For a second you consider calling Jungkook but stop when you realize that you'll only be hindering his work. What are you even going to tell him? that you can't read because your neighbors have been fucking each other for hours now? No, that's just stupid.
Taking off your reading glasses you make your way to the kitchen. If you can't get sleep tonight, you might as well give them a tough fight. When and if they decide to let their horny asses take a break and decide to doze off, they'd catch on to the fact that there's someone next door whose mama didn't raise a quitter. Immature? you don't think so.
Once the woman's voice on the speaker alerts you that your phone has been connected, you start off with your favorite go to song when you need to cry your eyes out. "Fuck to an emotional song now" you think.
Coming in terms with the fact that you might have to pull an all nighter, you begin making coffee. The word itself brings a smile on your face. Coffee, which got you through your med school. Coffee, which got you Jungkook.
If you really think about it, hadn't you mustered up the courage to go on a solo date that day and have a coffee all by yourself you wouldn't have crossed your paths with him. It's funny actually because how many couples do actually last this long after meeting at a random coffee shop?
After dating douchebags for almost three years you had taken a break from dating all together. It was high time you focused on yourself. Honestly, it's not like they were the only one who was messed up in your previous relationships. You had some parts you had to heal as well and the moment you caught up on that, you went on a journey. Journey to self love, journey to find yourself and a journey which will leave you not perfect but healed.
As for the dimwits you dated in the past, sometimes it was "why do you always have to be like this? how much more space do you need?" or, "What do you mean you don't want to have sex right now? C'mon don't be a spoilsport".
Spoilsport, your ass.
Standing up on your tippy toes, your hands reach out for the coffee container but before you could even settle your foot down on the floor, two arms circle around your waist making you gasp in utter shock.
The need to defend yourself takes so strongly over you that you don't even turn around in order to check the person before your elbow connects with their nose.
When you finally do, you can't stop the scream from leaving your mouth. Your face all red and your eyes as big as saucers.
You panic, "JUNGKOOK?"
When you see blood oozing out of his left nostril after he lifts his face, you mentally curse your sister for forcing you to take self defense classes.
"What's with the song, sweetheart?"
"I told you you were gonna be my death someday but who knew it was gonna be tonight"
After cleaning up his nose and giving him a cup of coffee, you both were now sitting on the couch. You had turned off the music, though. God knew it was not making the situation any better.
You take a sip before speaking, "Oh, don't be dramatic. Who comes home like this and at this hour?"
"My flight was late, sweetheart. I wanted to get to you much sooner but destiny had plans--" he gets cut off as his eyebrows crease in wonder.
"What was that?"
"The neighbors. They have been going at it for hours now" you shake your head in disbelief.
"For hours? That's some stamina I must say" he breaks out in a fit of laughter as you place your cup on the table in front of you.
Turning towards him you ask, "You find this funny? I haven't been able to sleep because of them"
Your voice comes out a bit whiny and you wonder if you're acting a bit childish.
"Oh, sweetheart. How about this, I take a quick shower and we cuddle to sleep" a mixture of warmth and concern crossing his face.
Your smile is wide when you say, "I'd love that"
Jungkook finishes his coffee and pecks your lips as he saunters towards the bathroom. However, when he turns back and says the most unforeseen thing, your silly mind doesn't even think twice.
"Actually, _____. Why don't you join me?"
Bubbles form inside the jacuzzi as smoke fills your surroundings. The smell of warm water hits your nose making it feel tingly. Your stomach is doing summersaults as your boyfriend lets you down inside the water, heart skipping a beat.
Only when Jungkook lets himself sit on the other side of the tub, you can finally take a deep breath. His eyes never leaving yours. When you're with him, there's nothing you care about. Not your horny neighbors, not the world, nothing. It's just him and his presence that lights you up. A smile that could rival the sun.
Him.
Your fingers play with the water as you try to make a conversation. This moment right here, is peak level of intimacy for you. You're both naked, exposed and vulnerable yet you've never felt safer. Not to mention how you feel like a high school girl trying to talk to his crush.
When you were young, the bathroom was the only place you could run and cry in and no one judged you. The four walled room provided more comfort than people in your life. It holds memories but when you moved in with your boyfriend, you left those at your old house. To rot, because what else?
With him, every corner, every space in your house feels pure and blissful. It’s filled with laughter, moans and him.
Jungkook's legs are lightly brushing yours every now and then, the movement sending shivers down your spine. What's happening to you?
"So, how was the business trip?"
"On a scale of one to ten, how funny is it that you wanna talk about business while looking like that and all I wanna do is fuck that sweet mouth of yours because of how much I missed it?"
You shudder, the effect he has on you is beyond belief and now with the expression crossing his face, pure lust and longing, it's as though somebody has set your whole body on fire. A mix of hot and cold feeling running through your veins.
"Jungkook"
"Come here"
"Wh-"
He cuts you off, "Come here, sweetheart. Come to me before I lose my ever loving mind'
You don't have an option other than to scoot your way towards him. He positions your body between his legs, his taut and muscular chest touching your wet back.
Wetness pools between your legs as his hardness presses at your lower hip just above your ass. Your pussy throbs with need and you stop yourself from reaching down to relieve that tension.
His fingers ever so lightly graze over your arm, frequently making drawings on it.
"How long did you say they were going at it?"
You look at him, "About three hours. Why?"
He's up to something. You can feel it in your bones.
"Do you think they're still gonna be able to fuck each other after hearing your screams through the wall, sweetheart?"
Fuck. The idea of making them listen to you while your boyfriend fucks you into oblivion doesn't sound so bad. You missed him, you missed being in his arms and you missed him being inside you as well. So, where's the harm in that?
"You wanna give them a show? Let them know how well your man fucks you?"
The moan that leaves her as she lets her head fall back heavy on his chest tells him everything her words can't.
"Jungkook, please. It's been so long" she cries out.
She stirs making herself more comfortable but that just makes him hiss through his teeth as her ass grazes his cock, the metal on the tip leaving a cool sensation. He's not gonna give in easily though. He will make her earn that release.
His hands cup her tits, fully covering them and they fit so perfectly in his hands. Heavy, full, perfect. As if they're made just for him to suck, him to cup, him to cum on, him to leave purple love bites on.
"I know, sweetheart. Do you wanna know what I kept thinking about while I was away?" his voice trails off, "I kept thinking about how bad I wanna fuck your throat"
The sound that leaves her is filled with need.
"Jungkook, baby please."
He trails his hands down her chest and stomach before it reaches her pussy. Just around her clit. His finger are soft and light, not putting pressure when all she wants is for him to give her the release she so badly craves.
Jungkook's cock is already leaking with precum and his balls ache. He missed his girl so fucking much, so much that he lost count of how many times he had fucked his hand while thinking of her while he was away. When his colleagues saw his flushed face, he had no other option than to blame it on the cold weather.
His finger slide down and back up her slit, making her visibly shiver.
Shit. He's not gonna last long if she keeps making those noises.
"How many finger do you want, _____?" he asks as repeats the same motion.
His mouth comes on her in a searing kiss, it's possessive, passionate, burning and everything nasty. He's straight up claiming her mouth as her tongue tangles with his own.
Pulling back he waits for her response, "Two. Please"
Following her command, his two fingers slide inside her. He tightens the hold on her stomach to have her stay in place when she bucks her hips forward.
She screams.
"That's my girl"
He slides his finger out before sinking it deep inside her cunt again. Crooking them in such a way that he hits her g-spot. Desperate moans fill the room mixing with the steam coming out of the hot water. Her hands ghost over his, fastening his pace.
"You want it faster, sweetheart?"
"Yes, much faster. I wanna cum so bad"
Happy to give her what she wants, he begins rubbing at her clit while his other fingers work their way in and out her wet cunt.
"Oh my fucking god"
"That's right. Get what you want. Such a good girl for me"
He's an animal at this point as he tries to mark her his more than she already is. Jungkook has always been open about sex with his girlfriend, his needs, his wants, his desires and she'd done the same. You compliment each other perfectly. It's easier that way, not leaving any room for doubts.
She like dirty talk, he gives it to her.
When her hips lift forward matching his thrusts, he smirks. Biting her slender neck as she chases her orgasm.
"Aghh"
It finally happens, her hands grasp his even more tightly, other hand gripping the edge of the jacuzzi as she lets out a scream. Her breath fastens as sweat beads her forehead, Jungkook never stopping with his praises.
When she settles back down between his legs, he takes his finger out and sucks them clean. Brown eyes never leaving hers.
"Do you think they heard us, sweetheart?"
Her laughter brings smile to his face, "You're crazy"
"And you're mine" He pecks her cheek, letting his lips linger there for a bit. Basking in the feeling of her love's skin against his lips.
At the beginning of your relationship when you were just getting comfortable with intimacy, jungkook loved kissing her cheek. It was his way of showing her that she's adored by him. Then he realised that quite frankly, it's her. He likes kissing so much because it's her that he's kissing.
He holds her for a while before speaking up, "You wanna help me with a problem?"
He doesn't need to tell her twice but soon as her next words leave her mouth, he takes a double take.
"Sit on the edge and I'll suck you off" he hears her say as she kneels before him.
"Later" he grabs her by her shoulders as he positions her back between his legs. This time facing him.
Her legs wrap around his waist and his thick cock presses against her navel. He knows how badly she wanted to take him into her mouth and he could have let her do that only if he was strong enough to resist himself from sinking deep inside her.
"Now, I wanna fuck you. Raw and nice just like my girlfriend deserves" his voice comes out breathy.
"I love you"
"Me too, sweetheart. More than you know" he assures.
Knowing he can't take it anymore, he lifts her up and sits her body down on his cock. Slowly by slowly as she moans her way through it. ____'s head falls into the crook of his neck and his grip tightens on the curve of her waist. The ampallang piercing multiplies the pleasure tenfold as you both roll your eyes at the back of your head.
Jungkook got madly drunk the other day and came back with a dick piercing which resulted in her getting mad at him and him fucking her to show how good it gets with it.
Having said that, he presses a searing kiss on her lips and his breath knocks out of his chest in the process. It's almost like he's dreaming. The feel of her body on him, his cock deep inside ____, her arms caging him. It all feels surreal. At this point, the neighbors are long forgotten. It's you and him now.
He takes one of her sensitive buds in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. Moving it in circular motions.
The next few seconds involve him spanking her ass as if he wants to leave marks, him guiding her up and down his cock as she bounces and giving her frequent kisses. Wet slapping noises fill the entire room as his balls ache with need.
"So good, baby. You feel so fucking good. Wrapped around me like this while I fuck you good, huh?" he slaps her pussy lightly.
Thrust Thrust Thrust
As she falls back again into his arms, crying loudly with utter pleasure, he tightens his hold on her body. Hugging her close as both of your heartbeats sync together.
"Thank you for letting me love you, sweetheart. Thank you for coming into my boring ass life and filling it with laughter. Fuck"
Your sweaty and now tired bodies are wrapped around each other as you both revel in the warmth of intimacy.
He lets out a grown followed by her whine and before he can say anything, you’re both cumming together, sighing and kissing as you come down your high.
A chaste kiss is pressed on her forehead, "So perfect, my girl"
"That was…" you bite your lip.
"Amazing, I know" he says as he mindlessly plays with her black locks.
his hands rub her back. "Sweetheart, I want one more from you"
"One more?"
"Yeah, this time I wanna see your beautiful back. Will you do it for me?"
He tries to ask her as gently as possible. Pride filling his chest when he sees her nod.
Guiding her up with the support of her knees he sits her down on his lap, his balls brushing against her clit as he sinks back inside her. A man can only take so much before he snaps. This was the moment for him. His girl's back glistens in the most beautiful way ever. Sweat droplets mixed with water dripping down her spine that he can’t help but kiss.
"Fuck baby, you look like a goddess right now." he halts,
"So warm"
Trailing his hands up the back of her neck he threads his fingers through her hair, gripping it lightly but also putting enough pressure just so she can feel a sweet pain.
His heart skips another beat when she starts moving forward and then backwards, teasing him. Her movements are painfully slow. He wants to ask ____ to move faster but at the same time, he also wants to make this special for her.
So, he waits and watches her back arch as he feels like the luckiest man in the world.
"Jungkook" she moans his name, holding on to his thigh as he pounds into her from the back. It’s even deeper now, his cock hitting places he’d never hit before. Jungkook mentally thanks himself for trying out this new position because he’d just about take any chance to feel more connected to ____.
Just when his stomach contracts and hardens, he asks, "____ I’m gonna need you to spread those ass wider. I’m very close"
When she hums in response he gently pushes her upper body so that it’s flat on his legs, immediately letting him see more of ____'s ass. Her asshole clearly visible to him. It’s such a vulnerable position that you’re both in. Her more than him.
He has to ask her, "Sweetheart, if you don’t feel comfortable we can always stop, alright? You just have to ask"
Her whiney voice reaches his ears, "I’m okay, baby. Just- Just fuck me"
So, he does. His hips thrust forward as he fucks her mercilessly, letting her have the pleasure. She moans, he moans, she cries out, he groans. It’s unbelievably perfect. His hands roam over her smooth back, her ass and even down to her pussy. Both bodies working in a graceful sync.
Suddenly, it’s like the earth comes to a stop. His hands grip his hair while the other one grips hers. His stomach hardens, balls tightening and the moment _____ clenches around his cock, he cums inside of her. Filling her up with hot, white liquid. She follows him soon enough.
"I fucking love this body of yours"
She straightens up and lets her wet body fall heavy on his chest seeking warmth and his arms around her. He’s more than happy to do so. His muscular arms bring her closer to his chest as he relaxes.
Before the next words leave his mouth, he has to make sure ____ is sound asleep.
"I can’t wait to ask you to marry me, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you in that white dress walking towards me like the angel you are"
He hopes she says yes, he hopes the ring brings the biggest smile on her face.
He hopes.
#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#bts#jungkook scenario#jungkook smut#jungkook scenarios#jungkook x you#bts x reader#jungkook imagine#bts scenario#bts fanfic#bts scenarios#bts smut#bts jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook drabble#jungkook series#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook oneshot#fluff
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Unsolved
Pairing: charles leclerc x podcaster!reader
summary: when charles admits to listening to unsolved, Ferrari take it upon themselves to play matchmaker
a/n: Hope everyone has a good 2025!
a/n2: I made up all of these murders and mysteries. My bad if they’re actually real
scuderiaferrari
liked by yourprivate, maxverstappen1, arthur_leclerc, and 3,138,723 others
scuderiaferrari: Carlos and Charles took the stage today to answer fans’ questions!
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user1: god do they look good
↳user2: i knnnnnoooowwwww
↳user1: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now ngl
user3: loved the little baking lesson that Carlos had going on there at one point
↳user4: god can we get charles to take notes???
↳arthur_leclerc: it wouldn’t help
↳charles_leclerc: stop lying! I can cook
↳arthur_leclerc: you can’t
↳user4: we saw that pasta video…unless you’ve gotten vastly better no you can’t
user5: my big surprise takeaway was that charles also listens to unsolved? He seems like that would be too scary for him tbh
↳user6: listen that man has been in Ferrari for years now
↳user6: listen to the horrors? No no no. He lives with them. He is them
↳user7: alrighty there Mr. Philosophy. Chill
user8: ok but did you see his blush when they asked why he liked unsolved?
↳user9: YES! I think the mans likes the podcaster, not the podcast!
↳user8: can you blame him? They’re hot af
user10: ok but i feel like this is the start of a meet cute? liked by charles_leclerc, yourprivate
↳user10: did??? Did Charles just like my comment???
↳arthur_leclerc: 😆😆😆😆
unsolved
liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, maxverstappen1, and 724,293 others
unsolved: Let’s talk death and disappearances this month — three cases spread across 3 states and 3 decades that have never been solved that starts and ends in Boston! Lisa Miller, …more
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user11: chilling…
user12: ok but why do they match so well…did you just somehow connect these 3 murders?
user13: damn do the fbi need to hire you. liked by the fbi
↳user13: wait what???
maxverstappen1: good stuff 👍🏻
↳user14: what in the earth is this crossover???
↳user15: vroom vroom guys listen to murder mystery podcast??
↳charles_leclerc: NO. NO WE DONT
↳unsolved: shame 😞
↳charles_leclerc: no wait wait wait. I DO! They don’t.
↳pierregasly: 😂😂
↳user16: what in the world…
oscarpiastri: interesting, interesting…
↳charles_leclerc: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
↳oscarpiastri: that’s no way to speak to your son…
↳user17: what is going on in the House of Commons???
↳unsolved: that’s what we would like to know as well…
↳charles_leclerc: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IS HAPPENIGN!!
Private Emails
scuderiaferrari
liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, unsolved, and 2,133,464 others
tagged: unsolved
scuderiaferrari: COTA here we come…with a mysterious guest!
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user18: OH MY GOD did they really invite the unsolved podcaster Charles has been not so secretly thirsting over???
↳user19: they did! I bet it’s gonna be a really interesting race…
charles_leclerc: we look forward to seeing you!
↳user20: how long did it take you to type that out and not completely freak??
↳arthur_leclerc: longer than you think possible!
this comment was deleted
↳carlossainz55: his face was redder then our cars
this comment was deleted
↳pierregasly: I was fielding panicked calls all day. You have no idea
this comment was deleted
↳maxverstappen1: I just took his phone and did it for him 😂
this comment was deleted
user21: my fingers are crossed. I am sat. Please please please give us a good episode of unsolved with Charles and Carlos. You don’t understand my NEED for this to happen
↳user21: god I’m just imaging something like their prison episode from 2 years ago? Like spooky and creepy to the extreme!
↳user22: sorry but can you explain? I’m new to unsolved and am working backwards!
↳user21: of course! So about 2/2.5 years ago the unsolved crew camped out in a decommissioned prison with a ghost hunter group (I forgot their name sorry!)
↳user21: while the hunters were, you know, searching for ghosts, the unsolved crew were doing an in-depth study on all the creepy and dangerous murders that happened in the prison!
↳user21: it was a really fun crossover episode!
↳user22: oh! That’s so cool! And austion has some pretty haunted places — maybe they’ll do it again here!
unsolved has posted 3 stories
[COTA here I come!] [beautiful!] [The setting for tonight!]
user23 replied I’m so excited!
scuderiaferrari replied glad to see you on the way!
↳unsolved thanks for setting this up!
↳unsolved I’m very excited!
user24 replied oh my god that’s such a pretty photo!
user25 replied go get your man
↳unsolved whaat??
↳user25 oh my god you don’t know??
↳unsolved ???
↳user25 oh this is gonna be funny af
scuderiaferrari replied …you’ll have both our drivers back in one piece right??
↳unsolved of course!
charles_leclerc replied that’s…that’s where we are staying??
↳unsolved yup!
Bluesky
Bluesky
unsolved
liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, sebastionvettel, maxverstappen1, and 1,231,122 others
tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrar, spiritsleuths
unsolved: only 1 driver was hurt in the making of this video and his name was…Jasper White! Thanks to scuderiaferrari for loaning us their drivers to make this amazing video that took a long look at some of the most haunting deaths in this local Austin landmark! And thanks to the Spirit Sleuths for helping us out last night!
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user26: spooky…
↳user27: it feels unreal that there were so many deaths in one place in such quick succession…
oscarpiastri: glad to see you made it though the night
↳charles_leclerc: of course I did! There was no problems whatsoever
↳unsolved: I’m pretty sure I have a couple of hours of video that show you screaming and clutching at me to prove that wrong…
↳charles_leclerc: you don’t ☺️☺️☺️
↳maxverstappen1: ohhh share?
↳unsolved: that’s no footage I guess
↳pierregasly: shame
↳charles_leclerc: thank you 😊
↳user19: hmmmmm user53??
↳user53: i see it. I see it
arthur_leclerc: ok but how many drivers were screaming???
↳unsolved: all of them!
↳charles_leclerc: no! Just 1 🥹🥹
↳unsolved: sorry just one!
↳carlossainz55: compañero?
↳charles_leclerc: just 1!!!
↳unsolved: sorry 🤗
↳user19: hmmmmm
↳user53: adding it to the folder now
user28: that was such a fun episode!
↳spiritsleuths: just wait for our cut of the night!
↳user28: I’m sitting. I’m sat. I’m ready.
sebastionvettel: never thought I’d see the day after that incident in 2019
↳landonorris: share!
↳oscarpiastri: don’t you mean the inchident
↳maxverstappen1: another inchident??
↳carlossainz55: it was for a love interest
this comment was deleted
↳charles_leclerc: this time it won’t be just an inchident
scuderiaferrari
liked by yourprivate, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 2,293,124 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
scuderiaferrari: And that’s our COTA winner Charles Leclerc!
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yourprivate: Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me
↳charles_leclerc: who are we to fight the alchemy?
user29: man he moves fast
↳charles_leclerc: very fast!
↳charles_leclerc: not letting this chance escape me!
↳user29: oh my god im so jealous right now
↳yourprivate: 🤭🤭🤭
carlossainz55: congrats mate!
↳charles_leclerc: you too!
↳charles_leclerc: for both reasons!!
↳carlossainz55: shush!
↳user30: oh??? user19, user53???
↳user19: …I’m on it
↳user53: I’ll start the coffee
↳user31: COFFEE??!?? ARE YOU GUYS TOGETHER???????
↳user53:WHAT NO? AHAT? SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
↳user19: I DONT KNOW AHAT YOURE TAKKING ABOU AHAHAHA
↳user32: user19 user53 act normal challenge — failed
pierregasly: thank god. Now stop texting me asking how to ask them out
↳charles_leclerc: stop. talking.
↳yourprivate: awww were you nervous?
↳pierregasly: if nervous includes texting me over 200 times in an hour with different pick up lines and selfies asking how his hair and outfit looked?
↳pierregasly: yes
↳charles_leclerc: im going to run you over 😄
↳scuderiaferrari: you can’t actually say that Charles!
↳charles_leclerc: for legal reasons this was (not) a joke
↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁
↳pierregasly: …I don’t like that emoji calmar
↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁
user33: the way he sprinted over to her…
↳user34: I have NEVER been so jealous as I am right now
↳yourprivate: ehehehehehe
↳user34: ok no need to rub it our faces
↳yourprivate: why wouldn’t I?
↳charles_leclerc: 🥰🥰🥰🥰
↳yourprivate: 😘😘😘😘❤️❤️❤️❤️
↳user34: right in front of my salad???
user35: wow that highway is calling my name tonight…
↳user36: sleepover!
#f1 smau#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 instagram au#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 instagram au#formula 1 smau#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc#formula 1 social media au#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula one
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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE ❜❜
.ೃ࿐ staying the night at your ex-husband's house was a mistake. NSFW
contents: fem!reader. you and gojo have a daughter. oral (m. and f. recieving), satoru calls you a slut + whore, degradation mixed with praise, mocking, dacryphilia.
author's note: edit—crying bcs an irl read this and alluded to it in one of our convos pls actually kill me /hj
"hey, sweetheart," the man holding your daughter's hand says casually, as if he doesn't know how much you hate the pet name. "you took your sweet time."
a familiar scowl makes its way onto your face and you cross your arms. "satoru, will you ever stop calling me that?" you ask exasperatedly, pressing two of your fingers into your temples.
six years.
you've known satoru for six years, and you were his wife for four of them. now, after a long, painful road, you two were finally divorcées.
it's been a year since you and satoru ended things, and sure, it was hard for all of you, but life moved on. your daughter, to her delight, still gets to see her father on weekends. and unfortunately, you usually tagged along.
"mommy, can we stay for the night?" your four year old asks, looking up at you with big, shiny eyes. "please?"
you hesitate — if it were up to you, you wouldn't stay in this house, the one you once lived in any longer. "sorry, pumpkin. i think we should go. wouldn't wanna intrude on daddy's space any longer."
you hate the look on satoru's face when you refer to him in the same way your daughter does. fucking pervert.
"you two can stay as long as you want," satoru interjects smoothly. he smiles lazily, kneeling down to your daughter's height and ruffling her hair. "it's kinda late, isn't it? i'd hate for you to have to drive all the way back in the dark."
"yeah, mummy!" your daughter says, nodding along to satoru's words. "i'm tired."
you wince and ignore the smug grin on satoru's face as he stands back up with a soft grunt. "we should head home, kiddo. i bet your dad has work to do, and we have our own house."
satoru frowns slightly at the last statement, but he doesn't even consider shooting back — not in front of his daughter. "sweetheart," he says to you, voice coated in that sickeningly sweet tone that you hated, "it's late. and i don't have any work."
when satoru sees the way you scowl at him, a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "you have any other reasons why you wanna leave?"
none that you need to know.
both your ex-husband and your daughter, who takes after her dad more, take your silence as grudging agreement.
"hey, kid, d'you want to go to bed?" satoru fondly asks your daughter, ruffling her hair again. when she nods, sleepiness evident in her eyes, satoru scoops her up and carries her off to her room without looking back.
when they turn the corner into your daughter's room, you sigh and plop down on satoru's couch. your ex-husband was an infuriatingly good father, and it pissed you off.
a couple minutes later, satoru strolls out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.
"so, babe, you dating anyone?" satoru says conversationally as he plops down on the couch next to you. he's close enough to make you tense, but stays just out of your personal space.
"what's it to you if i am?" you mutter, ignoring the pet name. you know that if you tell him to stop, he'll just say it more, so you don't bother.
he scoffs and faces you, resting his back against the arm of the couch. "what's up your ass today?"
"fuck off, satoru."
satoru whistles and tsks at you, shaking his head. "language, sweetheart. you kiss our daughter with that mouth?"
after a couple seconds, his expression softens and he studies your face carefully. "what's on your mind?"
and just like that, you're back to the times when the two of you were happy. back when satoru wasn't such a dipshit and actually cared about how you felt.
unfortunately, those times were over.
long over, you remind yourself as you dig your nails into the palm of your hand. "nothing you need to be concerned about," you reply. your tone is clipped, and the words come out harsher than you meant them to.
satoru doesn't seem to mind. in fact, he has a lopsided grin on his face as he scoots closer to you, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.
"you wanna fuck it out?"
his words are so unexpected that your mouth almost drops open. thankfully, it doesn't, but a couple minutes later, your legs do.
"fuckkk," you moan, tilting your head back as satoru's tongue trails a stripe up your slit.
"keep it down, sweetheart," satoru says without looking up. "don't wan' to wake up our daughter, do ya?"
you hum in response, physically covering your mouth with one of your hands to muffle the sounds escaping the confines of your lips.
in the year that you and satoru had ended things until now, you'd slept with a couple guys. you'd even dated one or two of them, but god, none of them could use their mouth like satoru could.
satoru can't help but smile as he eats you out, pulling away momentarily to shake his head at you. "tsk, you were so mean to me earlier. and now look at you." he dips his head to nip at your clit and grins when he feels you flinch.
"i've barely even started and you're already drippin' all over my sheets," he mutters, lips brushing against your inner thigh. "fuck, takin' my tongue so good, you little slut."
"satoru, i w-wanna cum," you mewl, shuddering when his tongue re-enters your folds. "wan' you inside me."
"i already am, dummy."
you feebly attempt to swat his head in response before scowling and insisting that he knew what you meant.
satoru scoffs as he pulls himself up to face level to you. he readjusts his position over you so your back is pressed into the mattress underneath him before pressing his lips to your ear.
"let's put that mouth of yours to use, yeah?" he mumbles, slipping two fingers underneath his sweatpants' waistband and tugging him off.
it's been years since you last fucked with satoru, and in that time you had forgotten just how pretty he was. you'd never admit it out loud, but you really didn't mind the reminder. setting into a comfortable position, you wrap your lips around his cock, relishing the way his moans get louder and louder.
you hum slightly, resisting the urge to smile when you feel satoru shake from the vibration. but god, his reaction when you run your tongue over his tip? priceless.
"fuck, baby, it's been too long since you've sucked me off. forgot how good you were- aah," he cuts himself off with a breathy moan. "fuckkk."
you briefly stop to look up at him with a cheeky smile. "you still moan like a girl, satoru."
"and you're as much of a slut for me as ever," he grumbles, reaching down and pushing your head into his painfully hard cock again. "d-don't stop, baby. feels s' good."
satoru's moans only get louder from there, until you have to be the one reminding him that your daughter's asleep two doors down.
"m' gonna cum," he whines, grabbing a handful of your hair and tangling his long fingers in it. "swallow all of it, yeah? don't waste a drop."
you nod your head obiediently, using your tongue just the way you know he's always liked to push him closer and closer to the edge until–
"fuckin' whore," satoru gasps, groaning loudly as he cums in your mouth, hips grinding against your face. "aah, missed your s-slutty tongue, baby, fuck."
"missed your girly moans," you manage to gasp before his tip hits the back of your throat, painfully so.
"shut up and swallow," satoru commands, tugging on your hair just enough to make you cry out. "yeah, who's moaning like a slut now, hmm?"
after you swallow all his cum and lick your now-swollen lips, satoru has you open your mouth so he can check.
"good girl, looks like there's at least one thing you can do right, even if it is just sucking me off. c'mere," he mutters, pinning you down on the mattress and making the bedsprings creak loudly. "m' gonna fuck you, m'kay?"
you nod, reaching out to stroke his saliva-covered cock. "y-yes, please, satoru."
your ex-husband, who you should really not be fucking with, looks down at you with a smirk and takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips. "you look so pretty, baby. all covered in my cum, never looked hotter."
he nudges your legs apart with his knee before pushing himself into you, gritting his teeth through a smug grin when you cry out in pain. "careful, baby. wouldn't wanna wake up our daughter with your slutty moans, would ya?"
"s-satoru, hurts s' much," you whine, pawing at his chest. "you're too big, i can't-"
"you're too big, i can't," satoru mocks, rolling his eyes. "how do you think our daughter was made, baby? did the storks just drop her off?"
his next thrust is particularly harsh, and something about your pained cry almost makes him cum again on the spot. "fuck, we should do this more often," satoru cooes, reaching up and stroking your cheek. "wait, you cryin'?"
yes, you were crying. your cheeks were wet with a mixture of your tears and the remainder of his cum from earlier, and fuck, all you could think about was satoru's cock. so much for being so over him.
satoru laughs, shaking his head and slowing his pace to give you a kiss. "just when i thought you couldn't get any prettier, you gotta go and prove me wrong," he mumbles, licking his lips. "god, you're fucking beautiful."
he presses his lips to yours again, this time letting his tongue slip into your mouth. "i missed you so much, baby. i still do," he mutters in between kisses. he's controlling the pace, purposefully making each kiss's ending sudden as to not allow you to talk — only him.
"you know how many times i've jacked off to you?" satoru breaths, reaching down to grab your thighs and push you impossibly deeper into him. "you know how fuckin' much i want to put a ring on your finger?"
"satoru, i-" you try to say, but his mouth is on yours before you can finish your sentence. and a couple seconds later, more words are waterfalling out of him.
"fuck, baby, you have no idea. i fucked up, but i swear i've changed. c'mon, give me one chance, i-"
"mummy? daddy?"
you and satoru both flinch and whip your heads towards the door when you hear your daughter's voice, preparing to make up some far-fetched story to tell her besides we were fucking.
thankfully, the universe allows you two seconds to cover yours and satoru's bodies with a blanket before your daughter opens the door and pokes her head inside. "i heard noises."
you look at satoru for help making up an excuse, and thankfully he has one ready to go.
"oh, we were just watching a movie," he lies, running a hand through his hair. "go back to bed, kiddo. we'll tuck you back in in a second, yeah?"
your daughter looks at you before looking back at satoru and nodding.
"close the door, please!" you call as she turns to leave. when the door shuts behind her, you let out a long exhale and bury your head in satoru's chest.
and to your horror, the door opens once more.
your daughter looks at you with shiny, curious eyes. "mommy, are you and daddy back together?"
satoru saves you from having to answer that impossible question with a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. "go back to bed, pumpkin. i'll be there to tuck you in."
ten seconds after the door shuts for what you hope is the final time, you turn and glare at satoru. "you're gonna tuck her in?"
satoru scoffs in mock disbelief, raising his eyebrows and pointedly looking you up and down. "if you wanna tuck in our four year old daughter covered in my cum, be my guest."
you nudge his arms off of you and bury your face in a pillow, groaning softly. "fuck you, satoru."
"love you too, sweetheart."
#osaemu#gojo x reader#gojo smut#jjk smut#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru smut
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LUCIFER.
his fall was not from grace, yet in his descent, he found freedom—a kingdom of his own making, where he rules not with light, but with the shadows it casts. and you, unfortunate soul, are the sin that fuels his eternal reign.
♱ genre. gothic, dark romance, smut, angels/demons au, 18+
♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader
♱ tags. 5.2k wc. this fic will contain dark and twisted themes. please heed the warnings and proceed with proper discretion. demon!sylus, sylus is ooc, not set in lads universe, profanity, heavy sacrilege/blasphemy, catcalling, sadistic undertones, noncon/dubcon, toxic relationships, corruption, sex in church, dacryphilia, mentions of obsession, allusions to stockholm syndrome, yandere, fingering, unprotected sex, explicit smut.
♱ notes. this is an old rewritten/reimagined fic of mine bcos i saw a theory abt sylus being a demon. and coincidentally, rewatching a season of lucifer only made my brain rot tenfold D; so if you've seen me post this fic before with another character, pretend you didn't >:D
Thunder grumbled as a flash of lighting struck through the dark blanket of twilight skies. The rumbling sound angrily resonated through the stretch of clouds as if the heavens were to wash away human sins that have long been plaguing this era of the 21st century. A shower of rain soon followed that started in huge droplets and later cascaded from the slate gray clouds like waterfall.
Checking your old leather watch, it was only 6PM. It had been two hours since the power outage doomed the whole neighborhood because the utility poles were severely damaged after the hurricane ravaged the city yesterday.
The thick soles of your boots landed heavily on the tessellated sidewalk with every step, holding your umbrella closer to seal you from the heavy rainfall. Your eyes followed the beads of rain that bounced off the cold cement as your mind wandered further than where your body could take you to.
You had left Sylus sleeping in bed back in your shared apartment so you could walk around the city and drop by the church. It wasn’t like you sneaked out, but was only reluctant to let him know of your whereabouts because you didn’t want him to follow you around, especially to such a scared place like church. Before you left, however, you did ensure that his silver cross was still enclosed around his collar just for your sanity.
It had been a while since you last visited the church. With the power out and nothing else to do, you decided it was the perfect time to visit the cathedral where you always made your most solemn prayers.
The streets were still in shambles, though. Road signages were sprawled on the sidewalk, branches were barely hanging off the trees—the city had vestiges of wreckage from the hurricane that emptied a usually busy metropolitan area today. Most people were still at the leisure of their homes as work and classes have been suspended until further notice, for everyone’s safety and to allow the government to clean the roads.
You could already imagine Sylus shaking his head at your resistance to just stay indoors and simply be with him. The only reason you were confident to leave his side today was because it had been awhile since the last incident. You could live with the thought of coming back home to Sylus and his usual self. Sylus, who was always thoughtful and tenderhearted albeit his dominant exterior. Never did you think that you could land a man of such warmth—a year in two days—but how you met was a story made for another day.
Amidst the already dismal atmosphere outside, stepping by the narthex inside the baroque church greeted you with an even more caliginous surrounding. Darkness enshrouded the interiors of your chosen place of worship with only as much as three paschal torches by the apse to light up the altar. Still, with God’s presence, your feet carried you in slow footsteps along the velvet red aisle as you made your way towards the nave.
You were alone in the eerie cathedral, but fear did not consume as you were in attendance to the crucifix above the high altar. This was your favorite cathedral among all the others in the city simply because of its gothic Victorian architecture.
Fixed with the cathedral’s grandeur and bedight with ornate decorations, you became more comfortable at situating yourself by the pew—genuflecting on the elevated wood behind the stretch of oak benches as soon as you found your usual spot.
“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” you whispered in sotto voce, performing a sign of the cross with your eyes glued to the crucifix that represented Jesus Christ. You had your elbows propped atop the bench as you silently prayed.
Loving and gracious God, with all love and mercy, we thank you for blessing us with another day and protecting us in times of natural disaster.
You wanted to ignore the unusual cold air that slithered on your skin in horripilation. Your prayer resumed despite the Stygian gloom that darkened the cathedral’s interior or the sound of the harsh wind slamming through the towering doors by the vestibule. The storm is coming again, you mentally noted.
With your grace and kindness, Lord, I pray that you will continue to guide us—
The manly fleer echoing through the vacantness of the church made you halt from your recital. “I knew my cute church girl would be here.”
You knew that devilish voice all too well that it had you shutting your eyes, petrified. No wonder the air felt sinister. But if your gut-feeling about him was right, then there was no need to be frightened. “Sylus, I’m in the middle of a prayer,” you hushed, although before you could turn around to face his silhouette, he had already transported to your side with a wicked smile plastered on his pallid face.
“I’m not him,” he spoke in an orotund voice, stepping closer and closer. His ash blond hair did not hide his incarnadine eyes. “Stop looking for that runt when you’re with me.”
You stepped out of the pew with a rapid heartbeat, standing by the aisle as the tall man towered over you. “S-Sylus, where’s your—” you searched for his silver cross and found it still hanging around his neck, “did you break it?”
He glowered at your accusation. “You know I would if I could, sweetie.”
You exhaled a deep sigh. This was not Sylus, this was the malevolent demon inside of him. You ought to be cautious of yourself. “Okay, well... Leave me alone. I’m praying.”
“Ordering me around?” Each step that he took reverberated across the cathedral. He stretched his head from side-to-side in a manner that showed his ennui. “Don’t you miss me, kitten?”
There was no stopping to the loud thumping of your heart as you stood along the aisle with Sylus backing you off further to the center. “Sylus, I said not now,” you begged, but he refused to listen and only wiped his lower lip with his thumb.
“I hate it when you make me wait,” he muttered, stepping forward until your lower back hit the credence table at the altar. You found yourself trapped in a decreasing distance between yourself and the sadistic devil in front of you. “Don’t look so scared. We do this every time.”
“I’m not scared, but...” Your voice was getting softer, yet filled with fret. You pressed a hand on his chest as he locked your body with both arms around the table. “Please, not here.”
You had to be firm, you just had to be but you couldn’t muster the courage to fight back in Sylus’s presence. He was the embodiment of power and you were the representation of weakness.
He was a demon that thrived on sin, and he drew strength from indulging in the seven deadly sins. Vainglory, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, sloth—all of those fueled his existence. Today, however, it was the third sin that consumed him, the one that ignited his darkest sexual desires.
“I’ll be quick,” he bargained, undoing the upper buttons of your dress despite your failed attempts at pushing him away. Doing it at such a place! You sent him a glare but he only returned a sly smile. “How about we show your God what you’re really like underneath that maidenly exterior, hm? Show him how dirty you really are?”
God, help me. You desperately shook your head, now overthinking if someone could see what he was about to do to you in this holy sanctuary. Long before you could cover your chest, he already pinned your wrist on the side as he lowered the fabric to show your collar. “Sylus—!”
“Don’t be shy, kitten,” the whisper he sent through the shell of your ear caused shivers to your spine. With his heightened senses, he placed his mouth on your ear, “No one’s here to watch us except for your God. Be a good girl now.”
You tried to push him once more to no avail as he sucked on the flesh above your shoulder. There was no warning to prepare you from the sudden harsh suction. “I-It hurts!”
Your nails dug into your palms to leave crescent marks on your flesh while you were squirming out of his strict hold.
“It hurts? Good.” He continued to leave marks all over your flesh as he caged your waist around his arm. The feeling of his teeth pricking your skin had you whimpering in pain, and his eyes had grown rutilant when he momentarily pulled away to look at you. “You’ll hurt even more,” and then he erupted into a deep chuckle as if you were a meal that he was seasoning with a sprinkle of fear, “I should really just keep you for myself.”
Your desire to breathe grew exponentially. “I’m not yours.”
A low sneer and a dissatisfied ego had you pressed against the oak table in surprise. “Yes, you are,” he reiterated as though he was enforcing the idea in your head. “Your soul, your heart, your body—you are mine.”
“I’m not! I wasn’t born in this world to be your property,” you protested, pulling away from his grip only to be slammed harsher on the table. You knew you should never anger a demon but his possessive nature irked you. Aside from your already shameful situation, you wanted nothing but to get away from him. “You’re evil.”
“What makes you so brave? Your beliefs?” he gritted, reaching for an object near your head that turned out to be the Bible. “This?” he quickly opened the sacred handbook and ripped the pages in front of your very eyes with a distasteful smile. How easily he ripped it, how easily he also tossed it. “Whatever, then. There’s no God. You humans are complete idiots for worshiping a nonexistent being. Weren’t you the ones saying that I’d burn as soon as I stepped into a church?”
“He is your father!” You sat back up, revolted by his blasphemy. He had no right to mock God like this. “Don’t taint my beliefs with yours. My faith in Him is stronger than you think.”
“You should know what it’s like to be in hell before you say that shit,” he retorted, placing his lips back on your ear, “I’ll take you there with me.”
This is not the time and place! What a shameful situation he was putting you through, so unbelievably shameful and obscene that you couldn’t look at him in the eyes. “Sylus, I swear. I’m going home if you’re gonna keep on—”
He huffed, showing boredom by dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “Ah, fine. You’re boring. Continue the prayer, then.”
For one of two things; first, Sylus would never let you off easily. Every act of defiance would garner you a punishment. Second, he was a time bomb. You never knew when his most cruel intentions would come to show. He was a malefic being that wouldn’t give two shits about where he was as long as he was having fun at torturing your soul.
You should have known that when you chose to finish your prayer back at the pew. Sylus would simply not last long enough to just sit by your side in his apathy.
“Holy Father, please forgive us for our sins—”
He snorted in ill-humor. “Pitiful.”
And while you sat there looking up at the crucifix, Sylus’s hand was already sneaking its way under your skirt. His icy fingers traced your inner thighs until he reached your center, and that was when you finally grabbed his wrist to stop him with wide, scandalized eyes. Was anyone on the qui vive to see you right now?
“Sylus, for heaven’s sake,” you hissed, pulling his wrist away but his slender fingers were already coordinating motions against your clothed core. You had to look around in panic lest there be any unknown audience peeking from the shadows. Despite your refusal to submit, the contact was eliciting suppressed moans out of your parted lips. “Y-You’re insane. This isn’t the place.”
His smile was full of triumph and excitement, his right eye glowing ominously he spoke. “What makes it different?” he asked, raising your skirt and inserting his fingers inside your underwear. You had to press your lips together as soon as he started rubbing his fingers on your clit. “See, you enjoy the fuck out of it. I can see through your deepest desires, kitten. It’s telling me… ‘don’t stop’.”
Your palm was pressed on his chest while his other hand tried to spread your legs open. The very position you were in—leaned on the wooden bench, legs spread apart, and being fingered in the presence of God—you were certainly going to hell. This was going against your belief, having your chastity corrupted in arrant disgrace by a man who was the devil himself.
How exactly did you find yourself in this predicament? You came here to offer a quick prayer, not to be pressed on the bench by a man who was now unbuckling his belt in haste. You could only think of how Sylus, who was an angel beyond his demons, was perhaps trying to come out of being trapped in the dungeon where Satan had him caged.
“This is so wrong,” your lips quivered as you spoke, both of the curling of your toes and of the shameless sacrilegious act. You knew you couldn’t stop this no matter how hard you tried because Sylus would remain tenacious until he got what he wanted.
With that, you fully submitted yourself to him and let the back of your head rest on the wooden surface while you stared at the stained glass that roofed the cathedral in different hues.
Sylus was fast to display a smirk while positioning his hardened length on your entrance. The bands of your underwear were now resting mid-thigh as he pressed himself down on you with one knee supporting the angle of his hips. He was running his throbbing tip between your plump folds to lubricate himself with your slick. No screams could be released because you restrained your own whimpers, but your tears brimmed on the corner of your eyes from the initial penetration.
“Ngh!” Your nails dug deep on his forearms. “S-Sylus!”
“Are you crying?” His carmine eyes glinted of sadistic humor, running his gelid thumb across your lower lip only to sink it deep inside your mouth. “How does it feel knowing that the God you worship can’t save you?”
A tear slid down from your eyes to your temple as Sylus started moving his hips in an achingly slow rhythm, each thrust going deeper than the last. You almost bit his thumb before he released your mouth by gripping your wrist. “Sylus—someone could see—!”
To your irony, the crucifix stared down at you and enkindled your conscience from this sinful act. Father, forgive me. You could only whisper those words in your head because your mouth was too occupied in crying out Sylus’s name.
“So warm.” It was hard not to think of how attracted he looked when he raked his fingers through his hair, later meeting your eyes with overpowering lust. He didn’t hold back at burying his cock into your cavern, allowing your walls to fit his girth like tight gloves—the feeling garnering his raspy grunt. “You’re mine, sweetie. All mine.”
Sylus. You blinked your tears away as you closed your eyes. Sylus’s lips were now on your neck as he increased the pace of his member sliding in and out of your cunt with squelching noises that shamelessly echoed across the cathedral. “Sylus,” your lips were on his ear, “we’re in—aah—church.”
Unlike you, he was nonchalant about the sacredness of the house of God. He was mocking the supreme being that you held faith to as an act of engraving his existence into your mortal soul. While you restrained your moans as he slammed his pelvis against your hole, there was fulfillment rattling in his bones when he pressed your face to the side before diving in to suck on your sweet flesh.
“Cry more. Did you know your walls get warmer when you’re aroused?”
It was hard to describe the feeling. The median between pain and pleasure was the closest example you could liken it to. The grazing of his fangs added to the burning sensation that you had all over your body as if fire was ignited to light up all your nerves.
Your hand latched onto his shirt before his body collapsed on top of you. With your legs spread wide, his head hung low on your neck—still and unmoving, strangely like he had fallen asleep.
“Sylus.” You tapped his arm through the heavy rise and fall of your chest.
And before you could move away, he shot straight up and looked at you with those foxy incarnadine eyes that were now in the shade of deep crimson. Eyes that were wide and full of horror as he looked around the cathedral before he slowly realized what he had just done.
“Y/N,” he said your name regretfully, pulling your dress down to cover your exposed parts, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I did this—? I don’t—”
Long dried were the tears on your cheek. As you two scrambled to fix your clothes, you pulled him into a hug while he murmured endless sorry’s to your ear. At least, for now he was back. That was the most important thing with all the sanity you had left.
“Just get me out of here, Sy,” you said, back into the arms of your human lover.
~~
You’ve always wondered why Sylus often slept during the day. Or why his normal heartbeat was at the pace of someone who was having a heart attack. Or why he could get serious wounds but managed to heal himself fast. Sometimes he would disappear from your sight and transport himself into another. Sometimes he would see and hear things a thousand times clearer than any other person could.
For almost a year of dating, these questions only came up to you without much of an answer. You thought that you were simply theorizing over things that you shouldn’t. Why does Sylus always wear that cross around his neck? At the back of your head, you were always intrigued.
You didn’t find out about the real reason until two months ago when you finally met ‘Lucifer’ out of nowhere. If Sylus was Jekyll, Lucifer was his Hyde. It was his way to allow you to form a dissociation between the two beings in one body.
You never believed in devils until Sylus showed his demonic face to you one night while you were supposedly peacefully sleeping. You recalled the screams that you released when you found out that Sylus was the fallen angel all along. That the rosary around his neck was meant to seal his dark side, the side that you still didn’t know much of. Up until this day, he didn’t provide a concrete answer as to why he needed to seal himself. He was taciturn about the topic of his other self despite you bringing it up every now and then.
But because you loved him, trusted him, and believed him when he said that he didn’t plan to hurt you—you stayed. You knew his human side better than the monster within him, so you told yourself that you could stay for him. You just needed to learn more about him.
There were still moments where you felt cautious around him, but when you looked to see his softened expression, you were comfortable at seeing the Sylus that you knew.
“Y/N,” he broke the silence that lingered between you two as you walked around the city, “I’m sorry.”
You tugged at his hand in reassurance. “It’s okay, I just...” As flashbacks of the earlier events returned to your head, you felt ashamed at having done such dirty deeds at a holy place. “He always gets what he wants.”
Because you let him.
“I can’t do anything when I’m trapped,” Sylus mumbled, keeping up with your footsteps as you strode along the street.
Your curiosity bubbled from his statement. “What happens when he’s taking over?”
This time, Sylus didn’t shy away from giving an answer while he interlaced his hand with yours. “I can hear everything, but I can’t feel or see. It’s all black, like I’m in a dark void.”
“Like comatose?”
“You could say that.”
How could a rosary seal his other self? How come he had two versions of him?
“He’s obsessed with you,” he admitted, frowning at the thought as you passed rows and rows of boutiques and restaurants. “Your soul, your scent, your body. That’s probably why he always has the urge to come out.”
The thought of it permeated heat on your cheeks even when it shouldn’t. Sylus had always been sweet and loving with his intimacy with you, but his other side was rough and sadistic. He liked tormenting your innocence with his immorality.
“You said the rosary was meant to seal him, but how come he keeps on—”
“It doesn’t work these days. Only my father can help, but I don’t wanna go that far just to tell him about this.”
Father. It was the first time he had ever spoken about his father in your twelve months together. Or did he mean father as in God? “Where’s your father, Sylus? Or the rest of your family? Are the other archangels roaming on Earth, too?”
You could see it in his saintly face that he was about to give an answer and you anticipated it, not until the nearby catcalling distracted you two.
“Nice legs, gorgeous,” whistled the man who was leaning by the street railings with a cigarette in his hand. The man was probably in his mid-40’s with disheveled hair and unshaved face. You sent him a glare but a crude wink was returned.
“It’s a bit rude to ogle at my woman in front of me, don’t you think?” was Sylus’s warning, the tendrils of his black-red mist extending to surround the man.
You could hear the man hooting again, unaware of what would become of him. “Ha ha! You punk. I’d spread those legs in a heartbeat.”
While Sylus’s eyes were deepening into a darker hue, you knew you couldn’t risk seeing him release his demonic side again. It was a dangerous gamble. And the city could become a bloodbath. So, in your insistence, you told your lover to just leave it be.
“Sylus, let it go,” you gently asked, tugging at his arm softly. You wanted to avoid confrontation and just continue walking with you until you could reach your destination. “It’s okay.”
~~
“Happy anniversary to my favorite couple!”
The clinking of glasses was followed by cheers on the booth where your boyfriend and your friends sat together. It was Avery’s idea to celebrate the special day two days prior as an excuse to hang out and drink. Luke and Kieran, being Sylus’s minions, were very much willing to join.
“It’s not until Wednesday,” Sylus corrected with a smile, sipping on his pint before putting an arm around you. He gestured towards Avery and Luke with a knowing look. “Now you two should date each other.”
You giggled at the thought. “Yeah, I totally support that.”
Instead, the two of them reacted heavily against it—faking a gag, making a face, name it all. They were adamant on showing how disgusted they were at the thought of dating each other and it was quite a hilarious sight to watch.
“Boss, come on,” Luke replied in outward distaste.
Avery, on one hand, was rolling her eyes. “You wish I was interested. I’d rather do Kieran than you.”
Kieran was Luke’s twin, the less obnoxious and more empathic one. But when those two were combined, their level of mischief wasn’t really any different from each other.
“Picking Kieran is the most insulting thing you can say to me,” huffed Luke, earning yours and Avery’s chuckle.
After an exchange of playful banter and teasing remarks, the conversation was redirected back to you and Sylus as Avery curiously brought up how you first met your boyfriend. It was only a year ago and the memory was still vivid in your head.
“Oh my God. I remember how Y/N first saw you at this auction,” she gushed towards your boyfriend while you blushed, gripping his arm closer, “and she’s acting like she just saw her soulmate.”
Kieran decided to chime in, “Boss was looking at her too, though. He may look tough, but he’s a hopeless romantic deep down—”
“Enough,” Sylus warned before sipping on his glass.
You rested your head on his shoulder and relaxed against him. “Next thing you guys know, we’re living together.”
Frankly, everything was normal until Sylus showed up.
“What do you like most about her, Sylus?” Avery egged on with a grin spreading on her face.
Your boyfriend didn’t even take a second to answer, “She’s cute like a cat,” he said, caressing your hand with his thumb from under the table, “and smart, and caring. Can get spicy, too. It won’t end.”
Sylus was the same, if not better. You didn’t have much experience when it came to dating, but you were surely on top of the luck department for being blessed with a man like him. He was the most protective person you knew, the most affectionate, the most thoughtful. Sylus was the moon that illuminated your dark nights. You could even remember how he would wait outside of your workplace to pick you up in his motorcycle—those were the little things that lasted for a lifetime in someone’s memory.
“She’s also a nun.”
The sudden panic in your eyes came simultaneous to the fast beating of your heart. You swiftly whipped your head to look at Sylus who was now displaying a deriding smirk across his pale face. Oh, were you doomed. The ruby eyes and the stony face was clear confirmation that the demon had taken over him. Twice in the same day.
Even Avery was surprised by his word of choice, but nonetheless found it amusing as it was rare for them to see Sylus acting bold. You were grateful for her obliviousness because you didn’t know how else you could explain the situation at hand.
“She’s a what, boss-man?” Luke jeered, chugging on his pint and looking at his boss in his newfound entertainment. He was among the very few people that knew Sylus’s true nature. Because the twins were demons like him.
“A nun,” Sylus answered, sending a look of mischief your way. You were deeply panicking that you had to squeeze his hand in hopes of stopping him from showing his true colors. “What? Don’t be shy, kitten. Didn’t we have fun in that church?”
You quickly shook your head and denied it in front of your friends. “We didn’t. Don’t believe him.”
Avery was unbelievably taken aback. “Wow,” she held back a chuckle, “I didn’t know Sylus has a vulgar mouth.”
~~
The night carried on while the downpour engulfed the streets heavily. Your desperation to leave the dinner earlier than intended was solely because you weren’t comfortable at having Sylus around other people. The man was clearly enjoying the embarrassment that he was putting you through. And you, you were only being cautious. Who knew what things he could do to Avery while in his other form?
You didn’t want things to end up where Sylus would be ostracized by the people who knew him just because they couldn’t understand that he was completely harmless in his benevolent self.
It took a lot of effort to finally make an excuse of getting home early while the skies have temporarily calmed down. However, as you two strolled across the street, Sylus wouldn’t stop blabbering on and on about how you should have stayed more to talk about how prudish you were.
“I’m not in the mood right now,” you spoke in a detached voice, moving away from him as you walked together. Because you ruined it, you wanted to add. The cold breeze kissed your face through the dark.
Sylus only moved closer to you. “You shouldn’t be so uptight,” he countered, “Is that how kittens should act? Or do I punish you back at home?”
Punishments. You didn’t wish to go through another round of his ‘punishments’ because you weren’t certain at how creative he could be at delivering them. There was no doubt that a man who traversed the ages would have seen enough torture devices used during the earlier times. Perhaps he could get inspiration from those.
“I just wanna go home,” you muttered, almost inaudibly had his heightened hearing senses not worked.
“Good, then I can have fun with y—” Sylus halted from his words as his face froze at the sight in front of him. His body had completely gone stiff and his jaws were clenched. You would have thought that he was angry until that evil upturn of his lips came to show.
“Sylus...”
Following his sight, he was all eyes on a man from a distance before he dashed towards the stranger, leaving you utterly stupefied from where you stood. What’s he on about? You rushed as your heels landed in lightweight steps across the sidewalk while you watched in terror how Sylus mercilessly throttled the man by the neck and dragged him into a dark alleyway.
“Sylus, stop!”
As you reached him with a panting breath, you realized that the man he was holding high up against the wall was the same person that catcalled you earlier. The man was wriggling away from Sylus’s tight grip, only to be asphyxiated harsher than before.
“Wh-What’s your problem?” The man struggled to breathe due to the strangulation and you were pulling Sylus’s other arm to stop him.
At the sight of Sylus’s crimson eyes and vicious stance, you knew there was nothing much you could do to prevent harm. He was determined to do what he wanted without paying attention to his surroundings.
“You’re fantasizing her, huh?” Sylus taunted with a sinister undertone in his words. “You wanna spread ‘em open?”
Recalling the very words he spoke, the man saw you with frantic eyes as his face was reddening from the lack of oxygen. With a rushed shake of the head and a face that was begging for sympathy, he tried to break free. “N-No, no. She’s—haaa! She’s all yours.”
“Sylus, stop it.” You grabbed his arms and attempted your best to pull him away despite the trepidation that caused you goosebumps. “Please stop, you’re gonna kill him.”
Every time you saw this demonic creature, you were learning new things about him and most of those things were of the worst kind. Not only was he possessive—he was diabolical, potentially obsessive, and a cutthroat sadist who wouldn’t even blink before ending someone’s life. This was the true nature of a demon, not some silly fantasy that today’s pop-culture portrayed them to be.
He was a body without a soul.
Unfortunately, you should have thought twice before choosing to get involved with him.
“That’s my plan, sweetie.”
#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x y/n#lads x reader#lads x you#lnds x reader#lds x reader#l&ds x reader#sylus smut#tw.dark content
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goodnight moon
how spencer turns college!reader's bad sleeping habits into very good sleeping habits.
MDNI | smut! word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), slightest teensiest bit of overstim, fluff to the moon, spence and reader just being sweet, spence just being obsessed and concerned with every little thing about reader authors note: hiiii. soooo this is TERRIFYING. why is smut soooooo scary and vulgar. but i've been working on this one for a long while and i think i'm happyish with it??? idk. its not really adding anything new or revolutionary to the world but i think its cute!! lemme know your thoughts. i think smut is something i'll get better at writing with time but yk. okay whatever have a lovely day and i hope you enjoy!!
There’s a noticeable tension in your shoulders as you lay down on top of the covers of your bed. Your face crushes into the soft down of many pillows, nose buried into the crevices. You trace out the clean smell of Spencer's shampoo that manages to linger on your sheets even after a week of him being away on a case, the fragrance making your head become even heavier with each deep inhale you take.
You can physically feel the exhaustion clawing at your soul. Eyes shut, blocking out the harsh shine of the overhead light you definitely forgot to turn off, you reach your arm up to work on the knot in your shoulder. You roll it back, feeling an unsettling click that probably shouldn’t be there.
Spencer would be able to work the knot out like it was nothing, if he were here.
You shift your leg up, thinking. When did he say he’d be home earlier today? You had called him before your final exam this afternoon, for some encouragement and reminders on the principles of astronomy.
The all-consuming fog in your brain prevents you from remembering any of the important details of the conversation, such as when he’d be home, so you choose instead to just replay the soft I love yous he had said into your ear.
By this point you’re sprawled across a good portion of your bed, back to the ceiling with one leg bent, head turned to the side. Your spine sinks down into the mattress, relieving the aches just a bit, and the sweet, sweet release of sleep ensues minutes later.
Until it gets quite rudely interrupted.
You don’t hear him enter the room. You haven’t even opened your eyes to see him. The only thing you notice when you wake is the feeling that you’re being picked up from your hips and rotated, a complete 180.
“Hello?” you ask loudly even before your eyes open.
When they do open, they see your lovely boyfriend standing above you, grimacing like he’s been caught. Spencer’s hands are holding you mid air, and you look at him, wildly confused, as you blink away the sleep in your eyes.
He’s still wearing his work clothes, the thick sweater vest that you got him last year for his birthday layered over his button-up. He must have just gotten inside, his bag was still crossed over his body.
“Hi honey. What are you, um, doing?” you ask quietly. His nose scrunches in a cute attempt to push his glasses up his nose without using his already occupied hands.
“Hi. Sorry for waking you up.” He ducks down to kiss your forehead. “You just really shouldn’t be sleeping on your stomach. Bad sleeping posture can actually worsen chronic pain more than any other factor in your daily life,” he explains, setting you down but keeping a firm grasp on your waist. Your mouth forms an awkward little smile, matching his. “I had to intervene.”
“I know. It’s just so uncomfy. But why’d you pick me up? You could’ve just nudged me, or, you know, asked…” you grumble. You make room for him, however, as you speak. He sets his bag down and clambers into bed next to you, body seemingly rivaling yours in exhaustion. He leans against the headboard, turning his head to look at you.
“I wouldn’t normally do that, but I knew you were exhausted, so I figured you’d be less likely to wake up if your body was physically touching fewer things,” he justifies, logic drawing a soft giggle from you. You settle into a comfortable silence, the room still bathed in artificial light and Spencer still in his work clothes.
He eventually breaks the stillness after a minute, turning towards you. “How did your astronomy final go today?”
“I think I did alright. Our study sessions paid off, I think. But it was never my strong suit,” you reply, tracing your fingers over his leg. “I’m so achy now though. It’s strange what four hours of math can do to your body.”
His hand slides up your arm in response, lightly pressing on the tense spots.
“It’s strange what four hours of math and sleeping like a contortionist does to your body,” he corrects with his little know-it-all look, fingers circling a bit more firmly into your shoulder.
“I also really, really missed you,” you add, smiling back at him. “So be nice to me.”
“I missed you,” Spencer responds, even sweeter. “And I am being nice.”
You roll your eyes and he reaches over to kiss you gently. “Would you like me to be nicer?” he whispers softly. Your brain is all but short circuiting as you look at him, his eyes flitting between yours like he was searching the stars.
Your head is nodding even before you can actually realize what he means.
Then, his body is gone from yours. You stay silent, trying to regulate your breath, eyes following him as he stands and walks over to turn off the big light. Your eyes flicker to adjust, but with the moon’s gentle shine pouring into your window, it’s absolutely perfect.
A blush, that you're hoping the new darkness will conceal, creeps up your cheeks when you see the soft outline of Spencer’s back as he takes off his sweater vest and pulls at his tie. He turns back and looks at you, eyes all soft and full of adoration. “Yeah? Not too tired?”
“Nope,” you murmur, convincing yourself as much as him. He finishes getting into his PJ’s and walks back to you. You straighten your back, trying to appear as awake as possible. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” he says back at you, voice gentle. “You can barely keep your eyes open.” A kiss, this one to your cheek, softens the blow of his words. You shake your head, but he continues. “You were sound asleep not even ten minutes ago, and you’ve yawned six times in the last five minutes.” His hand strokes the side of your waist.
“Spencer. I'm fine,” you huff. He smiles a little and sits next to you on the bed. His mouth is on yours, kissing you firmly, sweetly.
A hand, always in motion, always calculated, slides up to your nape and presses you closer. The other slides down and thumbs under the hem of your top, grazing lightly over your skin, making it erupt in goosebumps.
His brow scrunches softly. “You’re so worked up.”
You stay silent, begging him with your eyes. He dips down and kisses right where he touched, and your hips lift a bit in response.
“Honey. Lie back,” he says, and you do so. He readjusts his body so he’s on top of you, one leg slotted between yours. He kisses your forehead, cheeks, nose, and then moves down to your neck. He kisses that one spot beneath your ear that makes you gasp quietly. He then does it again, and again, and again, in that focused way of his.
Wordlessly, he slides down further. His nose bumps underneath your belly button, in the thin stripe of skin showing where your top meets your panties. “Okay?” he asks.
“Yes. Please. Please, Spence,” you whimper softly, head feeling like a cloud of gas from the endorphins. He peppers even more kisses there and ghosts his fingers over your hip bone. He slides your panties down an inch and immediately kisses the skin that’s revealed.
“I thought about doing this to you all the time while I was away,” he murmurs. He presses another kiss more firmly on your hips, even closer to your soaked core, sucking gently and leaving a mark. “These should be off by now,” he muses, gently pulling your underwear down.
His hand is immediately where you want it, two fingers pushing up against your folds, and to your clit. He touches in little circles, sending jolts of pleasure up your stomach, eyes looking up to yours to gauge your feelings.
You almost hate Spencer for how fucking good it feels. You let out a soft moan, heart pounding. And when his middle finger sinks into your entrance with no word of warning, you toss your head back and close your legs around his hand. Spencer’s mouth twists into that little smile of his, pushing ever so deep into you, and says, “It feels better when you keep your legs open, sweet girl. If you need more, tell me.” You nod immediately, desperately.
“Yeah. I need more,” you whisper, and he bends down and gives your clit a kitten lick. Your hand goes to his hair, softly pushing him closer. He gets the message and presses his tongue flat against it, eliciting a moan from you.
“You’re so pretty like this, under me. I missed you.”
You really do almost forget just how nice it was to have him on top of you after a week, telling you nice things and making you feel so good. He pushes his ring finger in to match his middle, stretching you slightly and adding pressure to where he knows it feels good. Your eyes screw shut and you furrow your brow in overwhelming pleasure, a soft exhale coming from deep within you.
“This good?” he asks, other hand coming to take care of your clit in his mouth’s absence. You nod frantically, looking down at Spencer. He watches where his hand comes in contact with you, pushing in and out at a steady pace. “You’re not normally this quiet. Is it a lot?”
“Yeah,” you whimper. “Feel so sensitive.” He presses a soft kiss onto your clit, and you jolt.
“Sweet girl. It’s been a little while, huh? Even right before I left, I didn’t use my mouth." You shake your head in agreement. “You’re doing so well for me though.”
He resumes with his tongue, working you into oblivion. His free hand holds your hips steady, hindering you from writhing away from the mind-numbing pleasure.
His mouth is occupied and your brain is utterly ruined, so the only noises coming from the two of you are your soft exhales and whimpers, and the obscene sound of his hand pushing incessantly into you.
And eventually it does, in fact, become too much. He sends you into orbit. You lift your hips, practically pushing yourself into his face, pleasure coursing through you.
“Spence, I’m. I-” your voice gets caught in your throat.
“I know,” he says, calm and collected. A stark contrast to whatever the fuck you’re feeling right now.
He keeps going in the same way, steadily driving you through your orgasm. You let out one last moan and your body relaxes and limps around him, chest moving up and down rapidly.
You come back to earth and grab his arm to tug him away. But he stays, pressing kisses all over you, watching you with his imploring eyes.
“You can take it. Missed you so much. Just one more,” he says in broken little sentences, parting with your core for just a second before resuming, hand picking up speed again. But this time, you don’t feel as awake. As alert. Your chest feels heavy, and your eyelids even heavier.
The post-orgasmic haze has settled even more into your bones, pressing you down deeper and deeper into the dark chasm of sleep once again.
The last thing you see before you succumb is the moon casting a perfect glow onto Spencer, still diligently pressing soft kisses onto you, holding your hips still so you won’t roll over in your sleep like before.
#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#criminal minds#spencer reid fluff#fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#piper’s works
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Sick, Little Games
► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - psycho!blackmailer!mingi x fem!reader!Y/N ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜/𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 - smut with plot, blackmail, gaslighting, Mingi is kind of a dom!, restraint (via rope), public sex (fingering), semi-exhibitionism, hair-pulling, reluctance, corruption kink, it becomes consensual, creampie, no protection (do NOT do this!), cum swapping/transferring, fluff, falling in love ◄ ► 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - MDNI, violence, mentions of dubcon, CNC (consensual-non-consensual) ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 20K (I swear I tried to make this shorter) ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - All you wanted was to go home and relax on a Friday night, so you take the subway. There, you encounter a man whose character prevents you from leaving. No seriously, he literally prevents you from leaving by tying a rope on your wrists while holding the other end with his big, strong hands. The rope isn't the only thing those hands will hold tonight. ◄
► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - Welp this one is a little darker, let me know if I missed a couple of tags. This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent Ateez in real life. Join the taglist here. Title from All Time Low. BONUS CHAPTER IS UP! ◄
Home is all I ever wanted to be right now. The thought of my warm, cozy bed with me on it buried under my fluffy blanket is making me walk faster towards my destination - the subway.
I sighed in relief when I noticed there weren't many people, in fact there was literally no one at all except maybe the occasional passing of the cleaners and one man who was standing idly by the edge of the platform, I'm assuming he was also waiting for the next train.
I could feel his eyes staring me down even though I stood ten feet away from him. Maybe he was surprised to see somebody still waiting like him? Either way, when he didn't look away, I knew I had to make small talk to make things less awkward.
"It's finally the weekend now, huh?" I greeted him.
He was tall, maybe at six feet give or take, and he wore jeans partnered with a black blouse underneath a blacker cardigan that hung nicely against his toned frame.
He tilted his head at me curiously and a slow smirk creeped up on his face. "Yes, it is. What's a lady like you doing out here so late at night?"
"Oh, I have a part time job at the restaurant a couple of blocks away from here, shift ended late," I replied cheerily.
He raised a brow up. "You look awfully young to be working."
"No, well, technically I'm still in university."
"Oh? Where?"
"Seoul University, I'm in my third year."
A slight smile tilted his thick lips upward. "Interesting. I graduated there three or four years ago. How are you liking it so far?"
I glanced at nowhere in particular to give it some thought. "I suppose it's okay," I shrugged, "I only have one year left anyway."
He bit his lips and nodded slowly. "Third year's usually the time when you get sick of what you're doing and you end up hating everything."
I giggled in amusement. "Well that's an interesting way to look at it, you've been in my shoes once so I understand."
He stares at me deeper, his smirk growing wider. "Too harsh?"
"No," I shook my head. "You were just telling the truth."
"I suppose I was," he chuckled. "What's your name?"
"Ah, I'm Y/N," I said without missing a beat. "You?"
He hesitated for a couple of seconds before he replied. "Call me Min for now."
I frowned. That was odd. Your name isn't usually something you think about because it's an automatic response.
"Pretty name for a pretty lady," he coolly puts his hands in his jean pockets.
I grinned at him. "Glad I have your approval, Min. Are you always like this to people you see on the subway?"
I saw a small shiver go through him before he pursed his lips. "Maybe," he shrugged. "You never know who crosses your path one day."
Something about his tone and the way he said it made it sound like he hit the jackpot, but I ignored it. Maybe it was just in my head, I mean, I am pretty tired today.
It got silent again after that. I was finally able to stare at him a little better.
He was insanely handsome - hot, actually - he had short, dark hair that was equally messy and slicked back neatly, and it didn't help that he wore these black, thick, squared type glasses, and it made him look so charismatic.
I looked at him again when his deep voice startled me. "I don't mean to bother you, but do you have the time on you?"
A mild shiver passed through me, the good kind. His voice was deep. I cleared my throat. "Uh yeah, sure, give me a second..."
He hummed while I took a glance at my phone. I saw him eyeing the phone. "It's a quarter past 10."
He nodded in response, dragging a heavy sigh. "Getting impatient?" I asked in amusement. He scoffed softly.
"Patience is a virtue," I joked.
His sharp eyes pierce my doe-like ones, darkening significantly. "I am not known for my patience," he smirked.
I frowned at his bizarre choice of words, about to retort something profound back, but the distinct sounds of the oncoming train made me swallow my words.
"About damn time," I muttered.
"Patience is a virtue," he mocked.
He started walking towards me with slow, but long strides. He didn't break eye contact with me while doing so, and my heart started erratically breathing. The way he walked reminded me of a predator stalking its prey.
I brushed my own thoughts off, that was just absurd. I tried to calm myself by breathing in and out and by the time he reached where I was standing, the train was almost here anyway, so I just ignored him.
Suddenly, I felt him wrap his arm around my waist from behind me. I gasped loudly when his hand squeezed the fleshy part of my waist painfully.
"What the hell are you doing, Min?" I growled, turning my head around to scowl at him, but it was no use. Besides the fact that he was tall, his firm chest pushed out and prevented me from looking at him.
"Don't move," he whispered, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine, the bad kind.
He pulled me flush against him and now my back was completely touching his frontal body. It sent my body on overdrive and I thrashed this time to try to get free, but it was no use.
"I said," he put his other hand on my shoulder. "Don't move."
The train stopped, the door directly in front of us. I was petrified at this point. This man can do anything to me and none would be the wiser.
After what seemed like forever, the train finally departed and that's when I snapped out of whatever trance I was in.
"Wait, don't go!" I wailed at the moving train, but it was no use. I despaired, that was the last ride until the next day.
I heard him chuckle from behind me, I felt his chest rumbling at the sound. It all happened so fast; one second he turned me around to face him and the next thing I knew he was tying a rope around my wrists as tightly as he could.
"Should've been louder, maybe someone could have heard you," he paused, looking down on me with his sharp eyes. "Then again, I would have just covered that pretty mouth anyway."
"Wait, please don't do this," I whimpered.
"Why not?" he asked, not stopping from tying a series of complicated knots on my wrists, each tug tighter than before it, but surprisingly, it didn't hurt.
"What do you mean why not?" I couldn't help but snap at him. "You're insane!"
He didn't respond, he unfurrowed his thick brows, once he was done with the last knot. He, then, wrapped the other end of the rope with his own hand.
His face didn't give away any sort of emotion as we stared at each other with what seemed like an eternity. I grew fearful of this man, there was no way I could fight him because he was much, much bigger than me even if I tried.
I tried to back away, but there was only so much I could do because the rope would stop me and tug me back.
"Don't come any closer," I raised my hands, or rather, my fists since my wrists were bound together.
He tilted his head inquisitively, still staring at me impassively. I panicked, tugging my hands as hard as I could and wiggling my wrists to try and loosen the thick rope, but all it did was give me rug burns. He sighed, tugging the rope once, making me pause at my ministrations.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked in a small voice.
Shrugging, he tugged on the rope again, this time a little forcefully, but not enough for me to get dragged to him.
"No, wait, please," I pulled my hands harder, stronger, making his brows rise. "Please take it off, I-I'll give you money."
He smirked. "No."
"But--"
"No offense, angel, but I will probably make what you make in two weeks within a day."
"So you don't need me then," I laughed nervously. "Please, just take it off, I won't tell anybody."
Crossing his arms, he shook his head. "I'm not taking it off."
"Why?" I was scared, nervous, desperate at this point.
Min tugged the rope for real this time, I had no choice but to walk to him begrudgingly.
"Because I don't want to," he whispered. He was so close that I could smell the minty gum he was chewing on. "Come here."
He had the audacity to smile at me as he pulled me against his chest again, this time, facing him with my tied wrists between us. "Much better," he mumbled.
I narrowed my eyes on him. "Is this what you do in your spare time? Do you always have a rope on you?"
He raised a brow in amusement. "No. First time actually."
I tried to wiggle away from his vice grip. "Please don't hurt me."
"Never," he shook his head.
"So let me go," I pleaded.
I swallowed, my blood running cold against my veins. There was only one thing I could think of, then. His eyes roamed over my face, as if he knew what I was thinking.
"I'm not going to do whatever you're thinking," he sighed. "I'm not going to fuck you."
"Kind of hard not to assume you're not going to force yourself on me," I chuckled with no humour, cheeks blushing at his crudeness.
"Only if you want to," he grinned. He sighed when he saw no response on my end. "I will not hurt you so long as you don't fight me."
"Let me go then."
"No. I'm not going to repeat myself." It was a flat declaration and there was an underlying threat in his voice.
"How long are you going to take me captive then?"
"Assuming that I'll even let you go in the first place," he shrugged.
I stared at him in horror. I felt his hand on my arm, the ghost of his touch tickling me, higher and higher up until it reached my hair. He stroked my hair like a parent soothing their child.
I gasped when he slightly tugged on it, I was expecting a sting on my scalp, but nothing. He went back to stroking my hair again, then tugging it ever so slightly. I made the mistake of sighing at his touch.
"You like that?" he murmured.
I didn't respond. I felt confused like I have never been before. Not to say that I'm happy that I was a prisoner in his arms, but my body began relaxing before I knew it.
He started tracing random patterns on my back, rendering me even more confused. Strands of my hair were also tucked behind my ear. "Pretty," he murmured again. "It would be a shame if I just..."
I groaned when he tugged my hair a little harder, enough for me to look up at him, but not enough for him to pull my hair out. "Ow!"
"Stop trying to untie them," he pointed at the wrists. "It's not going to work."
I gritted my teeth aggressively. Damn it, I thought, I thought he wouldn't notice me tinkering with the rope as he played with my hair and touched my back.
My eyes widened when he slowly leaned forward, his face getting close to mine. I panicked, a short burst of adrenaline rushed through me as I pulled myself free from his grasp.
I swung my fists forward, a shocked look passed through Min's face, barely missing his face he quickly ducked down to avoid my hit. I squeaked when he grasped my wrists painfully and pushed me away rather roughly.
"Not bad," he laughed. "That would have been really bad if you actually hit me, yes?"
I ran off in a hurry, but quickly got stopped by the restriction the rope gave me. I hissed in pain, it had managed to dig into my skin a bit and leave red, angry welts on it.
Min frowned at me, his eyes softening as he stared at me trying to soothe the pain. He stood looking at me a few feet apart, his hand outstretched a bit towards my direction as if he wanted to beckon me over.
"You," I exhaled. "You stay where you're at, and stay away from me."
His lips twitched up in delight. "Or what?"
I blabbered like a fish, my mouth agape as my brain went into overdrive. What the hell is wrong with this man? I must've said that aloud, because the way he grinned at me with a look of amusement was making me nervous.
"I'm going to scream," I informed him.
He smiled. "Go ahead."
And so I did. I screamed, I yelled, I shouted, I screeched like a banshee like my life depended on it - well, technically, it does - and I did this for five minutes straight, but nothing.
I wasn't soft at it either, I was yelling. Min was leaning on a nearby wall with his arms crossed, silently watching me and letting me do my thing.
I was extremely frustrated at this point. Now that I think about it, it's extremely abnormal to have absolutely nobody around, but then, I remembered that it was a Friday night and everybody was either already resting or getting drunk out of their minds. It didn't help that the subway was also underground.
"It's just you and me, doll face," he stated, biting his bottom lip and chewing on it a bit. "Save yourself the trouble."
"You can't possibly keep me here forever," I scoffed at him.
He nodded slowly in acknowledgement. "I don't see why that's a bad idea."
"If you think I'm not going to put up a fight with you, then you're sorely mistaken," I sarcastically remarked, pausing when I felt my wrists sting again.
"I'd like to see you try," he chuckled, the sound of his raspy voice echoing all over the station. It further solidified the emptiness of the place.
I thought about my next move carefully. He doesn't want money, and to be fair, I had nothing much to offer anyway. He's calm and collected, that means he knows exactly what he is doing. He has a rope, for God's sake, what else can possibly have?
"I'd really like to go home now, I'm exhausted and I have no time for your games, Min, seriously," I pleaded, hoping to try my luck on the poor damsel distress act.
"You don't really have to do anything," he shrugged. "I'm not going to make you do what you don't want to do."
I raise my brow at him with a sarcastic lift of my tied hands. He laughed a little. "That doesn't count," he laughed, his chest rising up and down.
I scoffed loudly. "What?" I barked. "Are you for real? How deranged are you? Why are you really doing this?"
He watched me intently, staring at me directly in the eye without blinking. His sharp eyes made me so uncomfortable, like he was undressing me from where I stood just by the motion of his eyes.
His lips lift into a smirk. "Because I can."
Steam started coming out of my ears. I don't care if he kills me or does whatever he wants, I was mad. "Really? Is your birthstone crystal meth?" I sassed, rolling my eyes at him to emphasize my point.
Min raises his brows so high his thick glasses couldn't cover them, then he looks down on the floor, but not before I saw the smallest smile on his face. It was probably the most genuine one I've seen tonight. He was trying not to laugh.
"What a mouth you have, you sweet little thing," he chuckled. "How about you come closer to me right now?"
"But you said you're not going to make me do things I don't like," I frowned.
His sharp eyes narrowed, staring into my wary ones. "And I stand by that."
He pointed at my wrists with his index finger. I didn't realize he was wearing a lot of rings on his hands, but this one in particular had a nice black ring. "That looks like that hurts."
I stared down at my wrists. Indeed, they were close to being ugly and painful blisters because of how much friction I was causing them, friction I barely noticed because of the adrenaline rush and survival instinct to free myself of this damned thing.
"It does," I admitted. "Because you're letting me suffer by not letting me go."
He shook his head. "That's a strong word. I can make it better," he offered softly.
"How?"
A sly smirk makes its way on his plump lips. He pats the wall beside him, his stare not wavering a bit. "Come," he said softly.
I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn't get stuck behind my head. "Absolutely not," I snapped. "I'd rather let my wrists rot."
"You sure?"
He was waving a tube of a familiar generic ointment you'd see everywhere, the cocky twinkle in his eyes palpable. I gulped, the stinging sensation on my skin getting a bit more intense at the sight of what could be temporary relief on my end.
But alas, I chose to turn around and ignore him. I heard him sigh loudly from behind me and the distinctness of his cardigan rustling as he moved from his position.
"Seriously now," he began. When I still had my back turned on him and still completely ignoring him, he sneered. "Alright, whatever, I guess."
I peered over at him and saw him leaning back on the wall with his arms crossed again, staring me down. I hissed loudly when I accidentally angled my arm wrong, causing the rope to dig in a bit and rub against the sensitive parts of my skin.
"Fine," I scowled. I held my hand out in the air. "Toss it."
He laughed, his deep, hoarse voice booming towards me. If he wasn't such a jerk, I might have found that sexy. He grinned, taunting me by wiggling his fingers back and forth.
"No, no, no, sweetie pie," he sneered. "You're going to come here and get it from me."
The colour from my face drained. I bit my lip apprehensively, and I didn't miss the dark and dismal look in his eyes. I don't want to go to him in case he does something shady, but is it better than being restrained?
I scowled at him. Unfortunately, nothing was better than this. My legs felt like lead, heavily treading towards him. He gave me an amused look because I had to crane my head upwards just so I could look at him.
I couldn't help the blush that reddened my ears. Darn this man, he was unfairly good looking. The way he looked at me made my insides flip upside down with anticipation and I did not like it one bit.
"Well?" I asked impatiently.
"Actually," he clicked his tongue. "I don't think so."
My brain had a major explosion. I widened my eyes at him. "That deal has already sailed," he smiled, patting my nose with his finger. "My God, you're cute," he commented when I grimaced at him.
"Please, they really hurt," I whined. I wasn't lying at this point, I had sensitive skin due to eczema and the littlest irritation can lead to the worst flare ups that usually last from a couple of weeks to a month depending on how bad they get.
He stared at me with a blank expression, though it is not to be mistaken with nonchalance, no. I can tell he was already calculating in his head on what he should do next.
He puts a finger on his chin, lightly stroking his thumb over it as his scorching gaze pierced through mine. I gulped when he suddenly brought his glasses lower on the bridge of his nose as his eyes peered from above the thick glasses.
His eyes were much sharper than I thought they were when the glasses weren't obstructing them. I had this urge to fold in on myself when he studied me deeper. I have never felt this exposed in my entire life before and I was fully clothed. Warmth spread on my entire lower groin.
"Hands up," he instructed, pushing his glasses back up. I was told and he held the knots that bound me. "I'm going to untie you so I can apply the ointment."
Before I could celebrate the tiny hope he had given me, he continued. "If you try to run away," he said softly, still looking at me. "I'm going to force you back. I don't want to hurt you."
I nodded. His fingertips trace my whole arm, smirking when he noticed the goosebumps he had caused, all the way down to my wrists. My breath hitched when he blew on my blistering skin to attempt to calm the redness down.
"I know it hurts," he whispered, his tone soothing my ears with tenderness. "Hold still, yeah? I promise I'll be gentle..."
He worked on the complicated knots he had made, tugging at them until they slowly loosened. He gently and carefully lifted the rope off and caressed the sensitive skin underneath, and just like that I was untied.
Then I made a run for it.
I ran as far as my legs could carry me, and before I knew it I had ran deeper into the isolated part of the station, but I didn't care as long as I could get away from that lunatic. I'll find somewhere temporary to hide and wait until he leaves so I can---
I screamed when I felt strong arms wrap around my waist, and before I knew it, I was lifted up and hoisted over Min's left shoulder, my bottom up in the air and my legs flailing around.
"Put me down!" I cried, hitting his back with my fists angrily.
"Behave."
I shut my mouth at his clipped tone. I did, however, let out another scream in surprise when I felt his hand come down my behind harshly.
Spanking my ass was definitely the last thing I thought he'd do in this ridiculous situation. I was tempted to smack his butt back since it was literally in front me, but I decided against it.
"You're being an awfully naughty girl right now, don't you think?" I can practically hear the smirk on his voice as he walked a bit.
I was set down rather delicately, but I can't say the same when he pushed me against a nearby wall because it was rough. I whimpered when he grabbed my hands and put them up and also pressed them against the wall.
"What are you going to do to me?" I whispered.
He was so close to my face, so close that if he only leaned a bit our lips would touch. "What would you like me to do to you?" he asked, his voice huskier than normal.
"Let me go."
"Except that."
"I will report you to the authorities, someone has to find us eventually," I threatened, or at least that's how it sounded in my ear.
He tilted his head in amusement. "With what information?"
He was right. I only have a first name, but not a family name. He laughed, but his grin didn't quite reach his eyes. "You can tell them the name I gave you, if that is even my real name, then yes, by all means, sweetheart."
I mustered up the courage to speak. "So what is it, then?"
"Why do you wanna know? So you can scream it for me?"
I looked at him in disgust. "Seriously," I rolled my eyes.
He chuckled lightly. "Hands. And no running."
This time he actually applied the ointment for real on my hands. The way he spread the soothing balm all over the affected area made me sigh in relief, to which he smiled. If we weren't in the most unusually messed up situation right now, I might have swooned at how sweet he was being.
He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, however. The rope was back on my wrists, albeit looser this time.
"Are you going to tell me your real name?" I inquired as we both sat down on the filthy floor of the subway station, our backs leaning against the cool wall.
He met my eyes, the brown orbs analyzing me. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"You're insufferable."
"What are you willing to give me in return?"
I paused, genuinely thinking about it for a moment. I sighed in defeat when I couldn't think of literally anything. But his smirk told me otherwise.
"What are you doing?" I asked apprehensively at his onslaught.
My eyes widened when his fingers traced my cheeks, down to my jawline, and towards my lips. I was frozen on the spot. "You should moisturize your lips often, love," he whispered.
He pulls on my bottom lip and gently sticks his fingertips in between my lips. "Open up for me."
I put my bound hands on top of his to attempt to push him away, but he was stronger. "Are you being serious right now?" I gaped at him.
"Tick tock, the deal won't be on the table for long," he shrugged.
I glared at him. "You'll give me what I want if I do it?"
His smirk widens. "Yes."
I sighed in defeat, opening up my mouth ever so slightly, but his long, thick fingers forced them to open wider anyway. Butterflies started to form in my stomach and I looked everywhere except him. God, this felt weirdly intimate for some reason.
"Suck."
"Now hold on just a minute," I backed away, effectively swatting his hand away in annoyance. "You did not just ask me to do what I thought you did."
"But I did," he replied cockily.
"I can't believe you!" I exclaimed, incredulous at the ridiculous request.
I was so annoyed at this point and I wanted nothing but to bang my head against the concrete floor after I banged his.
"You know what to do if you want something out of me," he was tracing my lips again with his finger.
I heaved a long sigh, swallowing all the pride I had and grabbed his arm and with that, I put his index, middle, and ring finger in my mouth while I maintained eye contact with him.
He stared at me with hooded eyes, his gaze significantly darkening with every passing second. He let out a deep groan when I made slurping sounds as I lapped his fingers like it was the tastiest thing I have ever had. I swirled my tongue all over his fingers and even gave his palm a lick.
His Adam's apple bobbed up and down repeatedly, especially when I bit his fingers softly. I alternated between that, licking, and as well as sucking. I was definitely being filthy with it, and it was absolutely humiliating to do whatever this was.
His other hand pushes my head off gently and he withdraws his fingers from my mouth. He sighed sensually when my drool dripped down from his fingers to all over his hand.
"Here," his voice was thick. I froze when he traced my lips again, but this time, he coated them with my own saliva. "Now they're not dry anymore," he smirked.
He didn't stop there. I stopped breathing when he put the very same fingers in his own mouth. He chuckled at my dumbfounded expression.
The desire that flashed through his eyes took me aback a little when I realized I was trying to discern his taste by smacking my mouth obnoxiously. I blushed, I wasn't doing it on purpose, he had this salty, sensual taste to him that took my breath away.
"So, uhm, what is it?" I questioned, not missing the tremor my voice now held.
"Oh. It's Song."
I waited a couple of seconds for him to continue, but when I realized that he wasn't going to, my patience thinned significantly. "That's it?" I hissed. "Song what?"
"That wasn't part of the deal, you have to be specific next time," he shrugged with his eyes closed, but I can see a ghost of a smile on his lips.
"Ugh! Have you no shame?!"
He slowly opened his eyes, staring at me intently, then leaned a little closer to my face. "If I did," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave lower. "You wouldn't be here right now."
I instinctively leaned away from him. "At least you're aware ," I mumbled.
It must be closer to midnight now, I can feel it, we've been at this ridiculous game of cat and mouse for a while now. I sighed deeply while I pictured my cat, King, waiting for me home. It's a good thing I overfilled his water and snack bowl today, I just had a gut feeling. Unfortunately, I was correct.
"Penny for your thoughts, water lily?" he asked all of a sudden.
I scoffed, not even bothering to look at him. "None of your damn business," I spat.
"That's too bad," he chuckled. "I was hoping to barter an exchange with you again."
That made my ears perk up and my eyes twinkle, but I wasn't buying it. He's cunning, sly, and manipulative. There was no way in hell I was trusting anything he said at this point.
A certain slashing sound sliced through the air and in my peripheral vision, I saw Min holding something in his hand and twirling it around like it was a toy.
I whipped my head back towards him in curiosity and his smirk grew wider at the small gasp I let out.
"Change your mind yet?" he questioned with a beam.
There was a softness to his appearance in conjunction to his rugged features. Truth be told, he was probably the most attractive man I have ever seen in my life and I don't think I will ever find another one that will come close.
I scoffed. "Not only do you have a rope, but you also have a pocket knife on you like it's the most normal thing in the entire world."
I groaned, swinging my head back and the back of it against the wall in frustration. "What the hell is happening to me lately," I cursed.
I felt something soft instead of the hard wall when I leaned back again.
"What can I say? Having both is part of my work," he muttered, his hand sandwiched between my head and the wall. "Stop before you hurt yourself."
"Work? Well, what are you? A mobster?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.
He blinked at me a couple of times before he burst out laughing. He was actually laughing, and my heart jumped at the pleasant sound. I stared at him as his body vibrated with mirth, his eyes formed into these tiny crescent as they disappeared from his mouth stretched out in a charming grin. Even his laugh was so damn attractive.
"Why?" he grinned, wiping an imaginary tear from underneath his glasses with the same hand that held hy head from the wall. "Do I look like one to you?"
"I don't know," I shrugged, frowning at him. "Are you?"
He surveyed me when he calmed down, gauging I was serious at knowing the answer to my question, but after a moment, he shook his head as he watched me carefully.
"No," he denied with a small smile.
Another laugh escaped him when he saw my irritated expression and amusement was all his eyes showed as he watched me try to cross my arms but failed since my hands were literally bound together and it was borderline impossible to even do anything remotely close.
"Uncomfortable?" he clicked his tongue.
I glared at him intensely. "What do you think?" I hissed, extremely annoyed at the fact that I can't even do anything. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
He nodded in acknowledgement. "I am," he replied, angering me. "Very much so, actually. But I'd enjoy it more if you'd just give in to me."
"Not a chance," I jeered with an aggravated sigh. "So if Min isn't your real name, what do I call you then?"
"Min's good for now," he shrugged, twirling the knife again expertly in his nimble hands. "And what a shame, I can be good for you, you know?"
I wanted nothing but to slap the smug look on his face to oblivion. "I think I can live without knowing what that's like," I snorted.
His brows knit together. "Suit yourself," he shrugged. "I guess we'll be here for a while."
When he saw me glaring daggers, no pun intended, at the small pocket knife he held in his hands, he twirled them faster, tempting me to just stand up and kick his balls as hard as humanly possible so I could get it.
But along that was the underlying fear that I truly didn't know what he truly wanted with me. That, alone, makes me even more terrified of being here.
I gulped apprehensively and his face switched to something else when he noticed. "You're not going to use that on me, are you?" I pointed at the blade.
He shook his head. "No. Not now, not ever. I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you."
"Besides," he continued. "If you come to me by force, then I don't want it."
He smirked at me suggestively, to which I scoffed softly, but loud for him to hear. "I'm too good for you," I rolled my eyes at him.
Well. Not entirely. In any normal circumstances, someone like him wouldn't even be in the same room as me. I couldn't point my finger at it at first, but a man this self-assured and dauntless must be someone of higher authority and money, I was sure of it.
"That, you are, my peach," he agreed. Something surges in his eyes when he noticed the blush that covered my cheeks.
God, his eyes. There was a lifetime of struggle in there that has never been put into words. His face in general, he was out of my league.
He glances at my bound wrists and for a second, I thought he was going to set me loose. My eyes widened when he put the sheath back on the blade and set it aside, instead.
"What?" he taunted. "You don't want to cooperate."
I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath in defeat. "I'm at a total loss right now. You want me to exchange you something, correct?"
He nods enthusiastically. "But not the knife?" I quipped.
"I don't want to let you go yet," he shook his head.
"I am aware..."
A small smile forms on his face as his brows shoot up, waiting for me to continue. "But I have nothing more to offer you," I rambled. "I have nothing on me that will interest you."
"And that, my little dove," he hummed. "Is where you're wrong."
Hot, red anger coursed through my veins when he dug into the pockets of his black cardigan and took out my wallet.
"Where did you even get that?" I seethed.
He shrugged. "Take a wild guess."
I wanted to scream in disbelief. He must've gotten his hands on it when he carried me earlier. I had a terrible habit of putting my wallet in the back pocket of any pants I wore.
"Even if I let you go, how would you get home?" he said. "Taking the subway meant you lived a decent distance from here."
He was right. Walking was out of the question because if I did, I would walk three hours. The subway cut the journey into half an hour.
I stared at him, calculating how I would get my wallet out of his claws and taking him down at the same time.
"Don't even think about it," he laughed. "I'm much bigger than you, and you know it."
"What do you want, Min?" I sighed in desperation. "Tell me what is it that you want so you can let me go, what do you want from me?"
He tilted his head to meet my eyes, slowly jutting his arms out to reach towards me and touch my chin lightly. He titled my face gently in his direction, and I was able to meet his eye as well.
"I want you," he spoke softly. "You would think that tying you up would make that very obvious."
I couldn't look away from his burning gaze even if I tried; I could have held it forever. His eyes were dangerously penetrating, he looked pure male at this very moment.
"Tying me up is not the solution, though, you psycho," I frowned at him.
"Humour me this," he uttered, waving his hands in the air as he spoke. "It's almost midnight and when you get to the sub, there's a big, scary man waiting in there, wanting to say hi..."
He paused, waiting for me to internalize the imagery. When it dawned on me, I sighed. "See what I mean, babygirl?" he chuckled.
"Don't call me that," I snapped. "Also your logic is ass."
He smirked, ignoring my statement. "Call you what?"
My scowls deepened when his eyes slowly trailed down from my eyes to my chest. He laughed when I lifted my wrists to attempt to hide them, but there was no point. I growled for him to look away, but of course, he was who he was and he only stared at me, not saying anything back.
His gaze wasn't uncomfortable, rather, there was a hint of wonder in them and it made my breathing constricted and shallow.
I know that look - it was scheming. The lasciviousness in which he stared at me was shamefully making my core ache, the patch of wetness staining my underwear was proof enough.
He sat straighter and his form, especially his upper torso, became bigger. He inched closer to me. "Kiss me," he whispered breathily.
There was a bomb that went off in my brain. I blinked owlishly at him. "Excuse me?"
He bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. "You heard me, Y/N. I want you to want me."
He licked his lips, his eyes clouding over when I shivered involuntarily when his deep, sultry voice said my name like he was praying for me to say yes.
His brows raise and his eyes widen a bit when I start to advance, leaning my face very slowly towards his face. His Adam's apple bobs up and down and his eyes flutter close as he held his breath.
Instead, I went to his ear as closely as possible and whispered, "Go kiss the wall instead, you sick fuck."
I didn't know what else to say, but more so, I didn't want him to see that he was getting to me little by little. He was manipulative, calculating, and conniving.
"God," he let out a groan that sounded like a tortured animal. He closed his eyes tightly as if in pain. "You're such a tease, little tart..."
He banged his head a couple of times on the same wall he stopped me from banging my head down. He rested his head on it for a while.
I couldn't help but stare at his face and how peaceful it looked when his face was relaxed. I couldn't believe this was the cocky and arrogant man that held me hostage.
He suddenly opened his eyes and they were darker than I previously saw, his smirk was dirtier too. "I'll give you your wallet back if you kiss me."
"Are you kidding me? Seriously?" I shrieked exasperatedly. "This is essentially blackmailing!"
"Call it whatever you want," he grinned. "But yes, I do agree."
"Now you're just doing this on purpose! You're going to get what you want anyway, why don't you just do it?"
He paused, his brow raised. "Okay," he shrugged.
Before I can process what was happening, Min lifted me from the ground and placed me on his lap, and now, I was straddling him. His heavy eyes were the last thing I saw before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me towards his lips.
"Wait--"
I whined on his lips, trying my very best to push his hard chest with my fists, but all that did was instigate him to wrap his arms around me and pull me even closer.
Surprisingly, he wasn't rough with it, but he wasn't gentle either - just desperate. I felt his tongue lick my lips, pushing them apart. He moaned lowly when I wasn't giving in, and his moan got louder when I unconsciously scratched his chest at those unholy sounds.
"Baby, please let me in," he rasped, his lips giving mine little kitten pecks as he spoke through the kiss. "Here, take this."
He momentarily broke the kiss and put my wallet in my pockets for me. I was frozen, I could feel both of our heartbeats going very fast, and I gasped when his hand squeezed my hips firmly.
"I can't do this," I said breathlessly.
He hushed me, leaning in and kissing my jawline slowly. I tensed under his touch, and he stops to hold my face between his hands.
"Relax," his breath was shallow as he looked me in the eye. His intense eyes lingered on my nervous face. "I'll be gentle, okay? Just give in to me, kitten, please."
He was about to lean again, but his black glasses kept hindering the movement. He cursed under his breath as he tried to adjust it.
"Take it off for me," he demanded, his voice taut.
"How?" I gulped, my brain blank with all the overwhelming sensation he was giving me.
"Use your teeth."
Panic started to take over my body. I could feel it trying to push itself out of my stomach, my chest, my throat, my head. I wanted to throw up. I whimpered when his hand went up to my waist and pressed on it, a jolt of pleasure shot down to my clenching wetness.
I swallowed, leaning towards his face, tingles spreading through my scalp as his eyes never left me as I took the black frame in between my teeth and spit it out.
I gasped when I saw his eyes, not because of how heated and impassioned they were, but because of what they literally looked like - dark, seductive, desperate.
I felt my heart constricting tightly. He was painfully beautiful, and looked so dangerous.
"Come here," he growled, crashing his lips against mine once more.
I gasped in pain when he roughly tugged my hair back. I was so taken aback when he forcefully put his tongue in. I refused to let my tongue play with his, mewling and struggling from his hold.
"Oh," I moaned quietly when he bit my lower lip, suckling it gently with a force that knocked the air out of me.
"You're insane, doll, the woman you are," he voice was thick with lust. "You're turning me on even more."
"Stop!" I squealed in abrupt pleasure when his hips bucked up, his hardening erection suddenly pressing on my clothed mound.
An animalistic growl tore out from his chest when he dominantly grabbed my ass and started pushing me in and out, manually grinding me on his hardness fast and hard.
"Oh my fucking God," he grunted, burying his face on the crook of my neck as he pulled me harder. "Oh, God, oh, shit.."
I was moaning along with him, pathetically savouring the feel of my warm heat dry humping his bulging hardness. I was ashamed of myself, for imagining how big he was based on how he felt.
The only thing to be heard in the empty subway station was our breaths, filthy kissing sounds, and the obscene moans from the both of us. Desire flowed through us, causing our bodies to melt against one another
He pulled away for a moment and I blushed at how red his face was and how bruised his lips already were. "I need to touch you," he croaked. "Can I touch you? I--"
"Hey, did you hear that?"
Cold reality washed over me as if a bucket of freezing ice was poured from my head in one go. I pushed him as hard as I could, as hard as my shame would take me, crawled out of his lap with disgust.
"Wait," he hissed, grabbing me by the arm as he stood up. I whimpered at his demeaning tone, but also how roughly he held my arm.
"Silence," he growled at me. "There's people in here."
The look on his eyes as he stood up and looked around, surveying the area to find the source of the random voice we just heard from the distance was alarming, and they frightened me.
I was disconcerted, I just made out with this man, and how was now compared to what he looked like underneath me was a contrasting difference. His sharp eyes were terrifying, one look will have you submitting to his control.
I paled. I had almost forgotten was dangerous this man actually was - that I was his prey to consume, and he was determined to play with his food before he devoured it.
He pulled me in front of him, pushing me lightly as he guided me to walk until he reached a dark corner that would hide us from anyone. It's not the best hiding spot, but it was the fastest we could find.
But wait a minute, why were we hiding?
It was as if he knew what I was thinking and he covered my mouth with his hand before I could muster up a scream.
"Do not," he warned. "Nobody goes in this area unless they're looking for something," he paused, tensing up behind me. "Or someone."
My eyes widened when it clicked. He was right, this area was a well known spot for mob deals and other shady businesses. It was an unspoken secret that everyone knew, but chose not to comment on. An infamous eight-membered group ruled this area frequently, and while they never deemed terror, their name alone sparked chills on everyone.
Footsteps got closer and closer until there were two people who stood on the spot where me and Min were sitting down. I froze, they were mobsters - the black suits gave it away.
"I could have sworn I heard something in this area," a man with a shorter stature murmured, looking around in the darkness with a stony face.
"'Have' is the keyword," the other taller man with the most intimidating face mocked. "I'm going to kill him when I find him."
"Relax, Seonghwa. Don't get your panties in a twist."
The taller one, Seonghwa, glared hard at his companion. "And I'm going to kill you with him, Hongjoong, if you don't shut your face."
My captor scoffed lightly behind me, his breath fanning my ear. I elbowed him to shut up, and his jerk reaction was to tighten his hold on me. I wanted to scream, I didn't even notice his arms around me.
I felt him lift my hair up and move it to the side to expose my neck. I dug my nails on his arms at the pleasure he gave my sweet spots.
"You smell so good," he whispered sensually, sucking on my neck. I stifled a moan when he bit hard. "I want to hear you so bad," he groaned.
While the two mobsters bickered back and forth, there was me and Min hiding in a dark corner, hoping to not be seen, yet he's making it utterly difficult.
I staggered backwards, my mind swirling with nothing but bliss, my breaths shallow and heavy. His hands slowly trekked upwards..
"Wait no, please, we can't do this here," I pleaded, quickly stopping his hand from fondling my tits.
"We sure can," he pushed my hand away forcefully, but I used my other hand to scratch him.
His body stiffened. "That wasn't very nice of you," he jeered. I gulped.
My paranoia triggered when his other hand wrapped around my throat, choking the words out of me. Whatever false sense of hope I had that he wouldn't hurt me when out the window.
"You've been testing me, little doll, and quite frankly?" He was indifferent, his voice not betraying his emotions. "I am getting sick and tired of it."
"Please," I whimpered when he squeezed the sides of my neck. "It doesn't feel good..."
He chuckled, something sinister lay brewing underneath. "But it does, don't lie to me."
I clawed his hand repeatedly, but he wasn't budging. "You said you wouldn't force me to do what I didn't want," I cried quietly.
"I know," he agreed. "But your eyes are telling me otherwise."
He pulled on the rope, forcing my wrists down permanently, as he went and did whatever his desires told him to do.
"Are you gonna be good if I let your neck go?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice. I nodded apprehensively. "That's a good girl."
He unbuttoned my blouse just enough for my bra to get exposed, and I had to suppress a moan when cold air hit my skin, but not for long as Min's hand hastily pushed my bra down to fully expose my average sized tits.
Soft groans escaped him as he roughly fondled them in his hands and I couldn't help my own groans. "Hush," he kissed my neck. "You don't want them to hear you."
He put his fingers at my open mouth and I used them to plug the sounds of pleasure threatening to spill out of me. God, his rough hands felt too good against my skin.
His mouth was on mine again as he held my stiff nipples with his nimble fingers. It sent jolts of desire all over my body.
"Do you feel good?" he murmured in between the kisses. When I ignored him, he bit my lower lip. "Answer me, love."
"Mhhm," I hummed, and he seemed to let that go for now.
I gasped when he squeezed them hard, the overstimulation of him alternating between rough and tender almost made me want to come undone. All I could do was mewl as he toyed with my body.
"I'll go to the other corner, Joong. Keep looking there," I heard Seonghwa mutter before his footsteps receded. I almost forgot they were still here.
"Doesn't the thrill feel good?" Min smirked, attacking my neck again and leaving pretty bruises on them.
"For you," I sighed. "You're the only one enjoying it. Seriously, how can you do this? How can you take advantage of me while we're supposed to be hiding from the mafia?"
"Ever so sarcastic, my pretty princess," he snorted.
While one hand massaged my tits, the other went south - going lower, lower, and lower until I felt him stop at the hem of my pants. My heart rate picked up.
"You're going to enjoy it too," he said softly. "I'm going to touch you, okay? I want to feel you, I need it so bad..."
The desperation in his voice caught me off guard, it shamefully made my pussy clench onto nothing as wetness covered it entirely.
"A-And if I say no?" I stuttered.
"I will push you out and give you to those two turds out there."
My blood ran cold. "You wouldn't," I gasped. He wouldn't let two mobsters who can kill me take me, right?
"My queen," he whispered, possessively pulling me closer in the tight space we were hiding in. "Remember this, I have never, and never will, given you opportunities where there was no way out of them."
I gulped. He was right, and I hated him for it, but that's what made him manipulative - he would give me these options that he carefully crafted and no matter what I chose, it will always end up with him getting what he wanted one way or another.
These options weren't for me to feel safe; he was merely giving me a chance to do things the easy way or the hard way, but either way, they were still his way.
"You were doomed the moment I laid my eyes on you," he stated darkly. "Oh, my sweet little peach..."
I closed my eyes tightly as he worked his way inside my pants, cupping the throbbing heat of my core. He nudged my legs apart with his foot, but I wasn't giving up.
"I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" he exhaled a sharp breath. "Relax, love, I'm going to make you feel good, I promise."
"I'm scared," I whimpered with raw honesty. Danger was still looming around us with Hongjoong and Seonghwa lingering around the area.
He didn't reply, instead he brushed his plump lips all over my neck and my now exposed shoulders. I couldn't help the tiny moans coming out of me as he worshiped my body gently. I suppose it worked, it calmed me down.
I heard his sharp intake of breath followed by a throaty moan when I leaned my head back against his shoulder so he could have access to my neck. "Stay like this," he groaned.
"Please," I choked when his fingers pushed my underwear apart and gently rubbed my slit up and down.
He grunted deeply, hungrily. "This is for me, yes?"
I whined at the absence of his touch when he pulled his fingers out and quickly reddened at the sight of his fingers coated with my juices within seconds of touching me.
It was obscene and it shouldn't have been so arousing, the wet sounds coming from my pussy when he parted my lips with his fingers again, but this time, he went straight into my clit, rubbing delicious circles on it.
My moans were borderline pornographic when he finally inserted a finger inside me and stars blinded my vision for a bit when he pinched my nipple at the same time. He slid his fingers in and out with a fastening pace, the wet sounds of it echoing all over the corner we were in.
"Shit, baby, your cunt feels so good, oh God," his deep moans kept hitting my ear and he smirked when I became impossibly wetter. "Say you want more, Y/N."
I whimpered in protest when his fingers stopped all of a sudden. "Fucking say it, then. Say you want more," he demanded with a furious growl.
"I want more!" I cried, tears falling from my eyes. "Please, Min, just please, I-I want more---ah!"
He roughly drove two fingers back in me and I could have exploded when he licked my tears. His long fingers were deep inside me, curling them as he searched for that particular spot. I bit his arm to avoid being too loud when he found it.
This angle had my swollen clit directly on his thumb and he applied pressure just enough until I started tightening on his fingers.
"We're leaving, there's nothing in here."
I'm not sure if that was Hongjoong or Seonghwa at this point, but I didn't care to know, I didn't realize how weird it was that they were announcing it at this time, not when Min had finally let loose when he practically dragged me out of our hiding spot.
He hastily took his cardigan off, set it down on the floor, and pushed me down on it so I could lay down on the floor. I yelped when he roughly shoved my pants down, leaving me completely exposed to him as he loomed on top of me.
And just like that, his fingers were back inside me again, sliding them in and out of me. The way his face looked in this light, I will never forget it. He looked more fucked out than me and he was the one getting me off.
"I-I think I'm, uhm," I moaned when his fingers down there got rougher, faster, harder and he just stared at me with lust-filled eyes as he finger fucked me.
"Tell me what you want, Y/N," he groaned.
I feel my orgasm approaching me fast and hard like an oncoming train. He finger fucks me even faster than before as he took in my pleasure filled face.
"I'm so c-close," I moaned loudly. "M-Min, oh shit, Min---"
"Mingi," he grunted, his eyes never leaving mine. "My name is Mingi."
He leans over to kiss me quickly before leaning up again. "I want my name on your lips when you come, okay?"
"Mingi!"
With that, I let go. Wave after wave of pleasure plummet my body and I scream his name, his real name. He was moaning with me and I saw him resisting to close his eyes so he can watch me come until I was exhausted and shaking, until he couldn't.
"Say my name," he growled, leaning down and burying his head on my neck as he slowed his fingers down. "Say my fucking name."
My throat was hoarse by the time I was done wailing his name. I was out of it for a while, Min - Mingi - kept giving me tiny little kisses here and there wherever his lips touched. He shushed me as he let go for a while, pulling out and sucking the fingers he used to make me come.
I watched him put my underwear and pants back on as if he didn't just give me the most mind blowing orgasm. When the ecstasy subsided and died down, I wept.
"You're okay," he would keep assuring, lifting me from the ground and embracing me in his hard chest. "Shh, don't cry. You did so well for me..."
He buried my face on his shoulders as he embraced me, patting my back soothingly as I let my tears fall from the overwhelming feeling my body felt.
I am so ashamed of myself. This was wrong. I wasn't supposed to want my captor, the one who kept blackmailing me. I felt immense guilt and distraught. The pleasure I felt was so good, but it made me feel so dirty.
"I am no different than a harlot," I sniffled against his skin.
He sighed deeply. "You're not."
We stayed like that for a while - me just letting my feelings pass and him patiently waiting for me to finish. He would whisper comforting words as he gave me pecks here and there, wiping my tears away. It felt so wrong.
"So," I cleared my throat, pulling away from him and sitting beside him instead. "Song Mingi, huh?"
He nodded. "How do I know you're not lying?" I questioned, the doubt clear on my face.
Mingi looked a little offended. "My queen," he spoke. "I may have tweaked our deals a little bit, but I never lied to you once."
I hate how right he was. "Stop calling me that," I murmured. "It feels a little intimate. Why do you keep calling me that?"
Mingi smirked at me, taking my wrists in his hand and working on the knots. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
My eyes widened. "No," I rejected. "No more deals, please."
He laughed that deep and attractive laugh of his, concentrating on untying the rope, tugging on it repeatedly, until it became loose, and he guided my hands until I was completely free. I breathe a sigh of relief, pulling my hands to myself and stretching them over and over to make them mobile again.
"What's the catch?" I frowned. He wouldn't just do this for free.
"God, I love how perceptive you are," Mingi remarked flirtatiously. "But no, nothing. I just want to get you cleaned up."
He juts his finger in a random direction. "I have my car outside, we can clean you up there. I have water too. Then you can go."
I was at a loss for words. "Really?"
"Really," Mingi confirmed.
When I gave him the 'go' signal, Mingi proceeded to carry me in his arms, swooping me in one go, and he carried me like a blushing bride. I wasn't a bride, but I was blushing. I knew he was strong, but this was crazy strong. I wasn't the lightest person out there.
I didn't even protest when he started walking out of there, I was too tired to argue, and I saw his eyes twinkle when I leaned my head on his chest as he walked.
"You were never going to ride the train in the first place, weren't you?" I whispered all of a sudden. He had a car outside of a subway station.
Mingi raised a brow as he looked down on me. "No."
"And those two mobsters, the mafia, they were looking for you."
He was smirking this time. "Yes."
"You were going to escape from them, weren't you?"
"Sure."
"What do you owe them?"
"I'm afraid I can't answer that, my queen."
"Please?"
Mingi pauses, staring at me. Then he sighs and relents. "Money."
"Is that what was in your backpack?"
"Do you actually want to get fucked? You're still very sentient, babydoll. Maybe my dick will shut you up---"
"You forgot your glasses inside!" I blurted out, my voice raising by one pitch in embarrassment. I felt my face heating up with his straightforwardness.
Mingi gives me a confused, incredulous look before he opens the door to his car and sets me down comfortably on the plush seats. "I never needed them," he cryptically said.
"Nice ride," I murmured, taking in the luxurious interior and the modern technology attached to it.
He hummed in response, handing me a bottle of water to which I drank greedily. It could have been poisoned, but at the moment, it was the least of my concerns. He lowered the windows so I could also use the water to rinse my face and hands.
"What now?" I questioned.
Mingi gave me a small smile. "You can do whatever you want, go home if you will."
"You sure?" I blurted out before realizing how stupid that was.
He laughed, realizing it as well. "I'm sure, Y/N."
It felt surreal at the moment. It was as if what happened between us was just a figment of my imagination, and it made me even more anxious. It was a little too easy.
"How am I gonna get home at this time," I sighed to myself rather than question it. It was well after midnight and the buses were all gone at this point and I didn't have enough money to get a cab.
"You know how to drive?" he lazily asked, looking at the distance out into the empty city.
"Yeah, I do," I replied, not sure where he was going with this.
Mingi nodded, tossing me the keys, and I caught it in surprise. "She's all yours," he said.
My eyes widened. "W-What?"
"The car, Y/N, it's yours now," he chuckled. "Drive home, and take care of her for me, yes? She was my favourite."
"Hold the hell on, Mingi," I blabbered. "Are you high right now? You can't just say things like that!"
"Think of it as a gift," he shrugged.
I stared at him in confusion when he got out and walked around the car, knocking on the passenger window where I was. I quickly crawled to the driver's seat and pressed the window open.
"H-How about you? How will you go home?" I stammered, genuinely concerned. "I'm just borrowing your car, right?"
He smirked, shaking his head. "No. Don't worry, I have more where that came from."
"You used the money you stole from the mafia?"
His eyes widened a bit before he burst out laughing. "More or less," he snorted. "But seriously, do you not like it?"
I scoffed. "Of course I do, this is a Bugatti, for fuck's sake!"
"Ah," he dismissed. "It's a Centodieci, it's not that much."
Damn right, I thought. I suppose I deserve this after all the crap and assault he subjected me to, but still, it felt wrong.
When he saw me biting my lip, hesitating, Mingi chuckled, and he was about to answer, but headlights suddenly blinded both of us. "Well," he spoke, tapping the car twice. "My ride's here."
My heart lurched out of my chest. The way Mingi was looking at me, I can't stand it. He was looking at me like I was the brightest star in the universe and the best thing he could do was stare at it because he couldn't reach it. Mngi began walking away, straight to the other car, but I stopped him.
"Mingi, hold on," I called out. He paused from his steps, looking back at me expectantly. My words got stuck in my throat, and the only thing I could say was, "I'll see you around."
He chuckled, low and sinister, and I was thrown into a whiplash. "You don't want that, doll, trust me," he shook his head. "Don't tempt me right now."
"W-Why?"
He opened the door of the other car, leaning on it as he stared at me with a dark look in his eyes. "I'm giving you a chance to run," he professed.
Right. I forgot how manipulative he was. "So run, Y/N, run far, far away," he continued, a daunting smirk on his face, "Because you're mine if we meet again."
And with that, he got in the car and it drove away, leaving me to stare at it as it disappeared from my view.
What did that even mean?
I drove away, apprehensively I might add, to get home. It was a breeze, I hate that I am now very in love with it. I got extremely dizzy when I realized it was voice powered too. Out of curiosity, I asked how much this car cost.
Bugatti Centodieci, top of the line, costs $8.8 million dollars as of 2024...
I almost swerved off the lane when I heard it. Was Mingi crazy? I scoffed, laughing maniacally.
Who was he? This can't be right. My insides quivered, no way it was this easy, surely there was a catch in between? He was cunning, what if him giving me the car was a part of his stupid games? I wouldn't put it past him.
And so, I drove home with an underlying guilt and heartbreak.
Mingi filled my thoughts all day and all night for the past month.
He was like a barnacle that didn't want to unstick from me and truth be told, it was getting extremely tiring. No matter what I did, I always saw him. I haven't been on any subway or train stations at all.
The worst part was that I didn't exactly know what this feeling was. At first, I thought it was fear - I was scared that he would come knocking on my door one day and claim me against my will, but no, nothing had happened.
I had so many questions left unanswered, questions that were giving me nothing but grievances, and in hindsight, a part of me wanted to see him again.
"Are you going to go have drinks with everyone tonight, Y/N?"
I paused from walking to turn around and found my co-worker, Wooyoung, at the restaurant where we both worked.
"I'm not too sure, Woo, I'm not really feeling well as of lately," I told him truthfully. This is Mingi's fault.
Wooyoung gives me a worried glance. "Everything okay, Y/N? Are you feeling sick?" he asked with a frown.
I gave him a halfhearted grin. He was always very sweet and I loved that about him. "Don't worry Woo, I'm just going to go home and rest," I twirled my car keys between my fingers and Wooyoung eyes it.
His eyes comically widen. "Wow, Y/N, you drive a car like that?" he says excitedly. "You always rode the bus though..."
I raised a brow. Has he always been this observant? Before I can question it, he snaps his fingers happily. "Can I see it? My brothers don't want me to drive," he pouted.
"Sure," I laughed and I guided him in the parking lot. "I overheard you talking to the others and mentioning that you had seven brothers?"
Wooyoung laughed. "Ah, that. We're not blood related, but we've been together all our lives. Blood isn't always thicker than water..."
We continued talking until I pointed the car to him. I started to go towards it, but I halted when I heard Wooyoung's sharp intake of breath. His eyes were wide as he stared at the black Bugatti, and I was amused.
"Where did you get this?" he inquired, his tone firm, his eyes piercing.
I was taken aback with Wooyoung's shift of attitude. He walked confidently towards the car, lightly trailing his fingers on the hood. Long gone was the cheery boy I knew him for.
"It's you," I heard him whisper.
My heart palpitated faster and faster when he walked towards me. "Stay here," was all he said when he walked away and called somebody.
I was so damn confused, what the hell was going on? Did Wooyoung know me outside of work? Oh God, I hope he didn't think I stole the car! I mean I get it, I earn shit in the restaurant as a server so I'd understand why he would think that.
Against my better judgment, I ran away from the parking lot into nowhere in particular. There was something dark looming over him in that odd conversation and I didn't want to be part of whatever that was.
As I was running hastily, I dropped the car keys. Cursing under my breath, I went back and tried to find where it dropped. I frowned when I realized where I was - in an isolated dark alley.
"Aha!" I exclaimed when I saw the keys and bent down to pick it up, but a foot stepped on it before I did.
I looked up to see three hooligans - tattoos, dank breath, yellowed eyes, you name it - grinning maliciously at me. I paled and it rendered me paralyzed.
"Well boys, looks like we got a jackpot right over here," the biggest man with the ugliest looking face grinned disgustingly. "You're the owner of that black baby in that parking lot!"
They all laughed rambunctiously to themselves. I was frightened, but I wanted to kick myself. Of course, the expensive car would've caught someone's eye sooner or later, but I didn't think it would be like this.
"P-Please," I whimpered, tears springing up my eyes. "I-I'll give it to you, you can have it, just don't hurt me..."
I gasped sharply when a skinny looking man grabbed me by my face and ogled. "You're hot," he leered. I almost threw up but I held it in. "Wanna play with us, doll? We'll give you a good time!
Tears started falling from my eyes. Mingi called me his doll, and it sounded heavenly from his lips. When they said it, I felt extremely insulted and violated.
"No, no, please!" I screamed when one of them held my arms and restrained me. "Stop!"
"Hold still!"
"No!" I bellowed. "I didn't get to where I am just to be manhandled by fuc---"
I choked, a stinging sensation on my right crippling me, the backhanded slap on my face was stronger than I thought and I hit the pavement below me. Was this the end? I groaned painfully when I felt myself being dragged on the ground.
My tears were free falling as I felt hands grope me in places I didn't want them to, but I couldn't do anything, black spots danced on my vision, but I still yelled, hoping someone would hear me.
"Stop it, please, take the car!" I shrieked, thrashing around, but that earned me another slap on the face.
"Damn, bitch, don't you ever shut up?" They laughed disgustingly. I cried out when I felt hands trying to lift my shirt up. "We're going to have so much fun---"
"What's going on here?"
The three hobos paused from their tracks, and froze when they saw the owner of the voice. I was in a haze, I probably had a concussion at this point. I could only hope that the new voice was here to help me...
I lay helplessly on the dirty ground and even though that felt terrible, at least I didn't feel their hands on me anymore, but I could still hear their conversation very well.
"B-Boss, greetings to you and your brothers," I heard them say as they bowed 90 degrees from where they stood.
In the distance, I saw three men standing straight, arms crossed in their chests except the one at the very front. I shrinked onto myself. They were the mafia.
They were Ateez, the 'A' symbol they wear on their suits was a dead giveaway. I panicked when I put two and two together. Were they going to hurt me too?
"Why are you imbeciles disturbing the peace?" a built man with the fiercest eyes I have ever seen sighed. He had this interesting reddish, pinkish hair.
"Wait," the other man with the deeper voice said. This one was handsome, his greenish, blackish hair suited him well. "You fuckers can't get it up so you terrorize a woman?"
"B-But, we know her," the three hoodlums lied. "We swear!"
A sudden panic attack tightens my chest and my breathing turns shallow. I'm so scared, and I am in pain right now. I groaned and everybody turned to look at me, but my haze couldn't make out faces clearly, especially their expressions.
Green haired man smirked. "Yeah?" he pointed at me. "Doesn't seem like it."
"I should kill you sons of bitches here," the pink haired one snarled, grabbing the gun he had and pointing it straight.
"Please, brother, spare us!" they shouted over and over again. I panicked, whimpering my ears to soothe the oncoming migraine I felt. I panicked even more when I realized I had blood, probably from my fall.
"Shut the fuck up---"
"San."
My eyes fluttered open as the world around slowly started to fade. That voice...
"Put the gun down," the third and last person spoke - the presumed boss. His voice was deep, calming, yet it induced fear in me.
"Why?" pink hair, San, growled.
"I won't tell you twice."
I tried, I really did, my best to glance at the tall man with the most lulling voice, at least to my ears. He was familiar, I just know that he was, it was breaking my heart trying to remember somebody who I couldn't at the moment.
I knew one thing - he was painfully beautiful, and the way he looked at me, it was like I was the brightest star in the universe, only this time, he can reach me and not just stare at me from afar.
He stepped forward, his strides powerful and domineering, and his eyes never leaving mine. There was something about him that felt different; he was dominant, compelling, and more dangerous than the other two.
"Step aside, maggots," he stated calmly, but so commanding.
"Boss, n-no offense," one brute interrupted, the one that slapped me to the pavement. "W-We really like t-this one, if you may--"
"Move."
"B-But---"
I saw the head mobster glance to his right. "Yeosang."
Green hair, Yeosang, nodded once and proceeded to roughly shove the thugs, apparently also mafia henchmen, to the side, giving them little punches and kicks here and there.
My head lolls and the muscles on my neck barely keep up with me. I can feel myself slowly slipping away. A shadow covers my view. He was so intimidating. He reaches his hand out, and I cower in response.
"No," I groggily shoved the head mafia's hand away from me. "Don't hurt me..."
He sighed, crouching down and sitting me down despite my protests. "Little dove, you know I would never," he whispered.
My heart started beating out of control as I stared at him closer. He was wearing this bluish suit along with a white dress shirt. Through my blurry vision, I can tell that he was the most attractive man I have ever seen in my life. I don't think anyone would come close...
I frowned. That train of thought. This wasn't the first time...
"Boss, my liege," I heard the ruffians speak. "Why are you forsaking us, your brothers, for some whore?"
I whimpered when I saw him take his sunglasses of, his eyes twitching, a glare of emotional coldness and complete disregard of anyone. It was terrifying.
"You dare call your queen a whore?"
That voice, that deep timbre, it brought a sense of relief to me. "Mingi?" I inhaled, shaking when it hit me.
His facade drops a bit, his eyes shining in relief, before it turns stone hard again.
The world seemed to stop for a moment, and the world never stopped for somebody like me. I was too far gone to acknowledge the sharp gasps.
I felt myself being carried and I automatically leaned into his hard chest. I was supposed to be terrified, frightened, but I was not. Everything seemed right at the moment and even if my head didn't know, my heart did.
I've felt this way before. I've been carried like this before. I've been in his safe embrace, wrapped in his heady scent.
I felt him plant a small kiss on my forehead as he carried me out of the alleyway. "You're safe now," Mingi whispered. "Let's go home, okay?"
I resisted, not wanting to go out just yet, but the tiredness and dizziness was catching up to me. As Mingi was about to completely walk out and go inside a car when we were stopped.
"Min, what do you want to do with them?" San asked. He then turned to me and bowed a bit. "Greetings, our queen."
I frowned, but that quickly turned into aghast when I watched Mingi hand Yeosang a handgun. "Beat the fuck out of them, Sannie, yeah?" he smirked sadistically.
He turned to Yeosang next with a smirk. "Then use that," he beamed darkly. "And use it well. Do not let me down, Yeo."
San and Yeosang look at each other, their eyes glazed with ruthless vigor. "With pleasure," Yeosang smirked.
I kept going in and out of consciousness every twenty minutes or so. I was in the backseat of a car.
And Mingi wasn't helping either. When I would try to shrug him off to just lay on my side to relax, he would possessively grab onto my waist and pull me to him.
"Stop it," I whined. "Thank you for saving me, but that doesn't give you the pass to touch me."
He hummed, not even bothering to respond. I wasn't in the mood for his bullshit today, so I shrug him off harder.
"Enough," he warned, a slight edge to his voice. "A month ago, you couldn't do it even if you tried." I hissed when he grasped my waist tighter. "It's like you never learned your lesson."
I blushed at the memory despite the haze. "Where are you taking me?" I cleared my throat pathetically. "My apartment is close to here."
Mingi stared at me before chuckling slowly. "Oh, you sweet, summer child..."
I shivered both in anticipation and fright. I can't be sarcastic with him like I did the last time I was with him. Song Mingi wasn't a regular person, I know that now. I have a sneaking suspicion who he was exactly, but the matter at hand wasn't that.
"Mingi, please, not now," I pleaded when he leaned towards me, stopping only a few inches from mine.
"You have forgotten what I told you before we parted ways," he murmured with a small smirk on his lips. "Surely, you didn't forget me that quick?"
"How could I forget you?" I glared. "You are the most insufferable person I have ever met."
He smirked. "How could you forget?" I held my breath when he whispered softly. "When your cunt took my fingers so well?"
I inhaled a sharp breath when he gave my lips a small peck. "You're mine now," he whispered. "Don't you ever forget that."
I was about to retort something stupid, but I couldn't when I groaned in pain, clutching my head when a sudden headache stopped me.
"You're bleeding, my sweet pea," Mingi frowned, his fingers lightly touching the dried, caked blood on my forehead. He tutted. "That fuckface. Come here."
My cheeks reddened when Mingi lifted me and placed me on his lap. I instinctively wrapped my arms around him for support. "Jongho," he called, his deep, commanding voice booming all over the car with authority.
"Here," I heard a voice towards the front. I groaned when we hit a road bump.
"Careful, Jjong. Easy on the road," I heard Mingi sigh while he was rubbing my back in a slow manner. It was honestly soothing.
"Sorry," the driver, at least I assume him to be, apologized. "I've been driving for a while now, where to?"
There was a slight pause. "Doll?" Mingi whispered directly in my ear. "You're going to have to stay awake for us, okay?"
I buried my head on the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. "My head hurts," I whimpered. "They hurt me really bad..."
"Shh, I know, I know. Can you sleep?" he tenderly asked, his arms wrapping around me tighter. I nodded in response.
"That's a good girl," he said. "Yunho's, then. Think you can reach there in thirty, Jjong?"
"Of course," Jongho snorted. "But only if I get to stay and not clean up after Yeo and Sannie. They're brutes."
"Look at you telling me what to do," Mingi raised a brow when Jongho gave him a sheepish smile. "Fine. Wooyoung will do it."
""But I'm worried about her," Jongho glanced at me through the rear mirror. "She might get nauseous."
"I'm fine," I snapped, burying my head deeper into Mingi's neck. "Just fucking drive before my head splits in two. I'll apologize to you later."
I felt bad for cursing at him, given that this was the first time I've ever seen him. My first impression was the least of my concerns.
Both of them laughed for a couple of seconds. "I see you picked the right one," I heard Jongho chuckling at Mingi, his eyes glinting in amusement, but there was that same darkness that he held. "Hang tight, our queen."
Everything was such a blur afterwards, all I knew was that I wanted to rest and forget about everything. The moment my head hit the pillow, it was game over.
When I woke up, I found myself with the most agonizing headache. I clutched onto my head, it certainly felt like my skull was trying to get out of my head.
It took me a while to realize that I wasn't in my own room, rather, I was in the most luxurious room with the plushest king-sized bed, wrapped in the most velvety blanket and surrounded by the softest pillows.
Everything hit me at once - my overnight shift, almost being forced against my will, to being in Mingi's car. I was mad at myself for being so damn weak that I can't even fight back when the need arose. If Mingi and his group didn't come in time, I just know I'd be dead by now.
Or worse, sold off. That was absolutely worse than being dead.
"You're awake."
I looked around to find the source of the voice and there he was. At the foot of the bed, a tall man stood. He was taller than Mingi, and Mingi was damn tall, himself.
"Who are you?" I asked with a frown.
"The owner of this house," he beamed. "My name is Yunho, our queen. Jeong Yunho."
He rolled a cart with antiseptics and more medical stuff out to the side. "You're a doctor," I declared, touching my forehead to find it all cleaned and healed up.
He nodded. "Luckily you didn't need any stitches, just a couple of bandages. Mingi can help you replace them later."
My heart skipped a beat at the name. "Speaking of," I cleared my throat. "Where is he?"
He smiled widely at me. He seemed nice, definitely reminding me of a puppy. "Doing some...stuff."
"I know what he does," I said. "Of what you guys do, more or less."
"I'm sure you do," he chuckled. "Mingi is not a subtle person."
He crossed his arms as he walked closer to my side of the bed. "You're very interesting," he remarked with a smile. "I can see why he's drawn to you."
"What do you mean, Yunho?"
"Well, for one, you didn't freak out when you saw me. The usual response to a random stranger in your bedroom is not nonchalance."
I squinted my eyes at him. I shouldn't conclude my thoughts about these people from looks alone; no one is who they seem to be here.
"You're observant," I commented.
"Yes. He can observe his way out of this room, as well."
Yunho laughed and I scoffed loudly when we both turned around and saw Mingi leaning on the door with his arms crossed.
"No thank you, Mangi?" Yunho approached Mingi with his arms wide open.
"Get out," Mingi ordered.
"Oh, come on now, I just wanted to check up on our queen," Yunho teased.
"Get out," Mingi repeated, raising his voice a little.
"But I want to know how you guys met--"
"Get," Mngi gritted his teeth. "Out."
"Okay, okay, goddamn," Yunho raised his hands out in response and beelined the hell out of the room, but not before waving at me jokingly and laughing on the way out.
The atmosphere was so awkward, it filled the massive room with uncertainty. I couldn't even look Mingi in the eye, for fear of him doing something to me. I was at the mercy of his presence, and in his property. He can do whatever he wants and none would be the wiser.
"I must say, Y/N," he began to speak, making me jump a bit in surprise. "Had I known that the next time I'd you see was being cornered by dead motherfuckers, I would have never let you go that night."
"Dead?" I squeaked.
Mingi smirked, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. "They will be soon."
He was at the very end of the room, but he was so unnerving. But by God, Mingi was the devil wrapped in an angel's grace. I didn't even recognize him at first.
He was wearing this tight, long-sleeved muscle fit shirt that emphasized just how bigger Mingi actually was. He had no glasses on, allowing me to see through his sharp and calculating eyes, and his dark hair was completely down, his bangs covered his entire forehead.
It was such a contrast to the very first time I saw him, and to be completely honest, I wasn't sure which one was worse - him wearing a casual outfit with the same dangerous, murderous aura was deceiving.
"You," I gulped. "You are the devil."
He titled his head in a menacing angle. "How so?"
"You know exactly what I mean, you took me here without even asking for my consent, Mingi!"
He stayed silent, staring at me with the same indifference he always had. It irritated me, more so now I knew who he really was.
"You lead the mob, you own the people," I whispered, hugging a pillow for comfort. "God, it all makes sense. The conniving, manipulative, boorish attitude, the fear you instill on everyone who knew you, and how you found me point blank."
"I didn't," Mingi denied. "Wooyoung found you. He called me. He is a brother of mine."
"You lied to me," I growled. "You lied about everything, you bastard-- don't come any closer."
Mingi began walking towards me, but paused in the middle of the room when I told him to stop. "I asked if you were in the mob," I continued. "You said no. But not only that, hid the fact that you had power. All you ever did was lie."
Mingi narrowed his eyes on me, rage slowly building into them, then it was gone. His self-control had always been worth of applause. "I never lied to you," he said in annoyance. "Everything I told you has been the damn truth from the start, Y/N."
"I own the gang, Y/N. I am the mafia, so no, I am not the mob," Mingi hissed. "I gave you every opportunity to wiggle your way out, I never gave you opportunities--"
"Opportunities that you tailored to suit whatever you wanted?!" I interjected, my voice raising significantly. "As if I had any choice? You assaulted me, Mingi, you took advantage of any weakness I had and exploited it for your gain!"
He smirked, his true colours overtaking the gentleness he put on. "But I do, I do care for you," he remarked. "Your perceptiveness kills me, though. It's not my fault we crossed paths again."
"You were going to give me to the enemy when we were hiding at the station," I accused harshly. "Crossing paths wasn't the issue, you had no problem selling me out!"
"I wasn't going to," Mingi shook his head.
"You wanted to touch me, you were going to push me off to them--"
"Hongjoong and Seonghwa, you mean?"
Mingi sighed, rubbing his temples with both of his hands. "Okay, fine, I might have lied to you with that one," he shrugged. "Joong is my best hunter, and Hwa is my right hand man."
Dread filled my body. Every opportunity that he gave me, even if he had pushed me to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, I would have never been in trouble. I would have ended up with Mingi, regardless.
"You snake," I seethed. "You manipulated me!"
"Remember," Mingi grinned sadistically. "I gave you the option to get away. Hongjoong would have let you go, he's always been soft, you see," he scoffed. "You chose to stay with me."
With that, tears fell from my eyes. Mingi's eyes softened at the sobs that wracked my body. He never lied, everything matched up, but his manipulations knew no bounds. Had I not been blinded by the temporary lust that made my body shake, I would have read between the lines.
"Seonghwa said he was going to kill you, how could I have known?" I hiccuped in between the sobs and tears.
I saw him reach out his hand to me, wanting to touch me, but hesitated when he saw how pitiful I looked. "Please don't cry, little dove," he whispered. "Will you calm down if I explain everything from the start?"
I looked up at him with my tear-stained eyes, nodding apprehensively. "Listen to me, my Y/N," he began. "I never lied to you, and I'm not lying when I say it hurts me to see you cry.
He walked towards the end of the bed and sat on it, far from me. "I was there for a deal with another mob, they screwed me over, so I stole their cash," he explained like it was no big deal. "The rope and the knife was theirs. It was for me."
I winced, the memory of Mingi tying me up making me cringe. "I'll spare you the details. I had to secure the place, why do you think the whole station was empty?"
I stared at him, and he stared back. That look again, I can't stand it. He was looking at me like I was the brightest star in the universe, but this time, I was slipping further and further away from him.
"I am a very thorough person, my pretty girl," he smiled at my blush. "I could have sworn I blocked off every single entrance in there. So tell me, how the hell did you get in?"
My blush deepens, and I lower my head in embarrassment. "I-I saw there was a barricade," I stammered. "I, uhm, jumped over it. I was too tired to go the long way."
Mingi laughed, his deep voice reaching me in places I didn't know existed. "I see," he smirked.
How could I be so stupid? The deserted area should have been a massive sign that something was very wrong.
"The train that came after a little," he continued. "That was my getaway ride. Those two were probably pissed when I wasn't on it, especially Seonghwa."
I was mortified all of a sudden. I groaned and Mingi turned to look at me in amusement. Hongjoong and Seonghwa probably heard us going at it and doing vulgar things in a place where we weren't supposed to be doing it.
"I didn't lie when I said I owed them money," he said, his tone soft and gentle. It was like we were in that train station all over again. It was moments like these when my heart would question itself and its validity.
"Yeah, you just conveniently forgot to mention that it was technically your money too," I mumbled in resentment.
"I got a little carried away with you and forgot to give it to them," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know how, you drive me crazy."
"That doesn't give you the excuse to shackle me with you and manipulate me to do your bidding," I glared fiercely at him, my voice breaking with every emotion I had.
"I know, my love, I know," he sighed deeply, shifting uncomfortably on the bed and turning his whole body to face me.
I wasn't going to tell him that I never stopped thinking about him even after he left, and I wasn't going to tell him that he had won - even if I didn't want to, I felt something for him. But I was mad, and he doesn't deserve me.
There wasn't a day where I never blamed myself for feeling the way I did. I really was no different than a whore.
"I didn't think I'd see you again after that night," he admitted.
I was puzzled and confused. "What do you mean?" I frowned. "I was in fear of you, Mingi. Everyday I was paranoid that you changed your mind and would come knocking at my door to take me."
He chuckled lightly. "No, dollface. I didn't even know where you lived."
I stared at him apprehensively. "There was no tracking in the car?" The doubt was clear on my face. "Don't you mafia people do that? GPs everything that moved?"
"You would be correct, but no," he shook his head. "Not that one. That was my personal car. Not the mob boss' car, just regular Song Mingi. It's not connected to the business."
"You're lying," I objected, my chest tightening with how my heart beated.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Mingi sighed. "Call me whatever you want, a bastard, a son of a bitch, the devil incarnate. I may con my way and twist the truth, but Y/N, you should know by now that I am not a liar."
I swallowed the lump that blocked my throat from breathing in and out. "Not to you," Mingi confessed. "I care very deeply about you."
I couldn't help the shock that resonated onto my face and expression. "You really intended to give me that car?" I croaked.
He nodded without hesitation. "Yes, love. Yes, I did."
Something in my chest exploded, all the emotions and how I felt threatening to bubble up within me. "I hate you," I whispered.
Mingi heard it though. "What?" he frowned.
I was very angry at this point. "Is this part of your games again, Song Mingi?" I spat, tossing the blankets away from my body.
"My love, please calm down," he pleaded.
"No!" I screeched, standing up and inching away from him and the bed. "I don't need your stupid car after you took advantage of me, you slimy little snake."
I began pulling my hair out in frustration. "You could have let me go," I cried out. "But instead, you didn't and you toyed with me and my body!"
"Y/N, stop it," he warned, standing up, himself, and trying to reach for me, but all it did was make me back away more.
"You think the car would absolve everything?" I seethed, making my way to the door, intending to leave. "You could have approached me like a normal person, I might have given you a chance to woo me--"
I grabbed my arms and spun me around swiftly. "Mingi, let go--"
"You don't understand," Mingi hissed, his eyes had the mafia leader's anger in them, scaring me a little. "You don't get it all, Y/N."
"Mingi, please--"
"I had every intention of letting you go that night," he snarled. "When I said I never thought I'd see you again, I meant it. I was really letting you go."
"You asshole, I hate you!" I screamed in defiance.
Mingi scoffed. "Really?" he squinted his eyes at me and pulled me into him, embracing me. It effectively halted me, I wasn't expecting it.
"That car was yours," he whispered. "If you really detested me, you could have sold it and gotten rid of every trace of me."
"And have you kill me for doing so? I think not."
"I wouldn't have known. If it had GPS, I would have tracked it somewhere else."
I cursed under my breath. There was no fooling him. "I wish you sold it," he said. "You could have lived comfortably and I would have rested easy knowing you had enough money so you wouldn't work at night anymore."
I shivered when he tucked my hair behind my ears. "What if someone else got you first? What if they had worse intentions?"
"I want you," he continued when I didn't reply. "I wanted you for myself, to take you and do whatever I damn well pleased."
He tilted my chin gently, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "I wanted to fuck you that night. Hard. Fast. Rough."
That caught me off guard. My face heated up in response.
"But I couldn't," he sighed before I could fully internalize what he said. "I didn't want this life for you. There was too much danger around me..."
He touched my forehead before leaning in and giving the bandaged wound a peck. "I should have come sooner before they did this to you."
I realized that passion was often mistaken for aggression. Mingi had too much of both. "You didn't send Wooyoung to spy on me?" I asked.
Mingi shook his head. "Wooyoung working with you was a sheer coincidence."
"It's not too late, you can still let me go," I tried to convince him. "You can let me go, once and for all."
He shook his head, his hold on me tightening. "No," he flatly said. Desperation swam in his eyes. "I let you go once, and that month was my worst. You're mine now, you hear me?"
The way he looked at me, I was the brightest star in his universe, and he finally had caught up to me. Then Mingi let me go, his eyes darkening into something foreboding; something more sinister.
"Strip."
It took a moment for me to understand what he said, and when I did, my eyes widened. "W-What?"
His eyes never left mine. "You heard me," he said. "Take your clothes off."
I took a step back from him and Mingi's jaw hardened when he saw me. "What are you doing?" he clenched his teeth, his voice taut.
"Mingi, please," I pleaded.
"Please what?" he growled. "Take your fucking clothes off, Y/N. I'm going to fuck you."
My chest fell up and down with how rough my breathing became. Mingi's scowl deepened when he saw me not moving an inch. He proceeded to take his shirt off and throw it randomly somewhere.
I gulped, taking in his physique. I knew he was toned, but seeing him up close made my brain go haywire with want. My brows shot up as I stared at the tattoo I didn't know he had on his left chest. It was an 'A' in a circle - an anarchy symbol, or rather, the Ateez emblem.
"Are you going to hurt me?" I whimpered.
His eyes narrowed in irritation. "No. Come here," he ordered. He had a demanding presence. The suffocating domination he had on me was daunting, but I wasn't going to give in to him.
I stood frozen in my spot for a few more seconds before I backed up again. Mingi slowly crept up to me, he looked like a predator more than ever. I backed up even faster until my back hit the wall. Panic surged through me when Mingi reached me.
He put his arms on either side of the wall, trapping me in. "Where are you going to go?" he sneered.
Before I could respond, Mingi ripped my nightgown off swiftly in the middle and lifted me easily in his arms, tossing me effortlessly on the bed. I screamed for dear life as he hovered over me.
"Song Mingi! What the fuck are you doing to her?!” I heard someone scream from outside the room.
"Fuck off!" Mingi roared angrily.
I trembled beneath him. He looked so much bigger than me when he was on top of me like this. I covered my bare breasts with my arms, but Mingi wasn't having it.
His eyes roamed hungrily over me. "No, babydoll," he smirked, grabbing my hands roughly and pinning them down on the bed. "You do not cover your tits around me, got it?"
I nodded as he devoured me with his eyes. I gasped when he leaned down and began sucking them. The stimulation was overwhelming - he would alternate between sucking and nipping my nipples gently.
"Mingi, please wait," I whimpered pathetically when he let go of one of my hands to fondle my tits.
I shook my head frantically and a choked cry was torn from my when his other hand wrapped around my neck. He lifted his head up to glare at me.
"Stay still," he barked.
I felt his tongue lick my lips, trying to push them apart. I whined in reluctance, trying to turn my head away, but Mingi quickly let my neck go to the back of my head and tugged my hair roughly on his hands. I cried out and struggled when he bit my bottom lip.
I inhaled a deep breath sharply when he pulled away to stare at me as I shuddered. I tensed when he started leaning down again slowly. He let go of my hair to press a thumb on my jaw, smirking darkly as he forced my mouth open.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured. "Naked, shaking like a leaf, and all mine."
He ravaged my mouth once more, tugging on my hair a little bit. When I refused to cooperate, he murmured another warning against my mouth, this time with more threat. His tongue played with mine, and he groaned against me, and plunged his tongue deeper.
I felt my body trembling more, the wetness down there was becoming impossible to ignore at his touch, and I was aching for relief at this point.
Tears fell from my eyes at the roughness and tenderness he was making me feel, and I felt nothing but confusion. He wiped my tears away with his fingers.
"Don't cry," he whispered.
"C-Can we do this next time?" I begged.
His penetrating glare left me fumbling for words, and yet submissive to his touch, unsure if I should hate him for doing this, or liking it because it was him.
I knew one thing, I felt undeniably safe with him.
"Darling, please, I'm not going to hurt you," Mingi pleaded when I began thrashing around, trying to get away from his criminal hold, by pushing his body towards me. "You want this just much as I do--"
"Fuck you," I spat on his face. Shock filled his face as he wiped the spit absentmindedly.
His eyes widened before mania and fury fueled his features. "Don't worry, I plan to."
I was expecting something rough and unrestrained, but no, Mingi kissed me softly, lovingly, and I couldn't help but kiss him back with equal emotions. His hands went everywhere - my hair, neck, stomach - until it reached its goal down there.
Panic surged through me and I tried to struggle, but he held my legs down with his and trapped me with his chest.
"Mingi," I wailed.
"Shut up," he hissed, ignoring my pleas.
Something about the way he said it made me extremely wet. It was such a dark arousal, too. Mingi groaned loudly, his fingers felt my damp pussy, rubbing and pressing on it. I bit my lips to stop the moans that were wanting to spill out of me.
"Baby," Mingi rumbled, pulling my bottom lip out of my mouth. "Do not, and I mean, do not hold back on me, yeah? I want to hear your pretty sounds..."
It's not like he gave me a choice, I let out a breathy moan when he slipped a finger in, pushing in deeper until he was knuckles deep. I unconsciously squeezed around his finger and that made him even crazier.
"Oh sweetheart," he choked out. "You are incredibly tight, my angel."
He started stroking in and out, sliding with ease and finger fucked me faster and rougher than he did when he were at the train station. I moaned when he curled his fingers up and started rubbing that sweet spot.
"M-Mingi," I moaned erotically. "P-Please, slow down for m-me."
He kissed my neck, his lips nipping at the soft flesh there. "How?" he groaned against my skin. "Do you not hear that?"
The loud, squelching sound from my wet pussy as he drilled his finger relentlessly in me was driving me crazy. I gasped when his pace got faster, his palms were hitting my clit aggressively and I felt my orgasm slowly approaching me.
"No," Mingi growled. I whined in protest when he pulled out. He grabbed my jaws roughly. "You won't come, not until I say so," he snarled.
He stood and quickly got rid of his pants, his hands shaking with anticipation as removed the last piece of clothing he had - his boxers.
I stopped and watched him stroking his already hard cock, and he looked directly at me, his eyes hazed with lust and madness, his strokes going slower when I swallowed. He wasn't the biggest I've been with, but he was the thickest.
The length of it was veiny, the head of it red with the need to be inside me. I gulped when I realized that he was going to be inside me.
"Look how hard you make me, precious," his eyes were lethal and ferocious. "I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore."
Before I could say anything, a startled cry left my lips when he mounted me, roughly pushing my thighs apart to let himself in for the invasion he was going to do.
"Mingi--oh!" I whined when he shoved his fingers back in my pussy and stroked in and out like the madman he was. I struggled repeatedly, thrashing my legs and kicking him as hard as I possibly could.
"Resistance is useless, stop it!" Mingi shouted, making me stop in my acts and stare at him dumbfounded.
He tiredly buried his head on the crook of my neck. "I will give you anything and everything you want and more," he whispered in distress and desperation. "Just please give in to me, baby, please ."
The way he was begging broke something in me. "It doesn't work like that," I sighed.
"Then don't hate me," was all he said before he pushed into me in one thrust of his hips, almost tearing me into two.
I choked out a loud moan as my nails dug into his back. "M-Mingi," I gasped in broken moans.
He stayed still inside me for what seemed like a lifetime, shushing me and whispering the gentlest of words into my ears as he gave me little kisses here and there.
I knew he was corrupting me, but the feel of him inside me sent stars in my vision. It was the corruption, the alternation, between him being rough and then into being the most affectionate man.
Mingi withdrew all of a sudden, then thrust deeply, both of us letting out pleasure filled moans that echoed all over the room.
"I'm going to have you now, okay?" he said.
Without waiting for my reply, he thrust into me hard, over and over and over again. I felt my body being filled delightfully, the sensation of Mingi's cock seemingly swallowing all the words I intended to hurl at him.
His thrusts quickened, each thrust making me cry out loud and moaning louder and louder, not caring if anybody heard me from outside.
"Oh, fuck, my love," Mingi groaned, looking me directly in the eyes as he hovered over me. "You feel so fucking good."
He leaned down to kiss me roughly. "You're all mine, okay? You're fucking mine."
It was the moment when I knew that I couldn't hold back anymore. No matter how hard I tried to deny it, maybe I was his, after all. It was fucked up, but goddamn it, I wanted him.
"I'm all yours," I cried out. "Please, please fuck me--ngh!"
He groaned at my sudden surrender to him, reaching down with one hand to rub my clit as he fast as he was fucking into me. He locked his lips into mine in a demanding kiss.
"Your pussy feels so fucking good," his deep voice bought out a different type of pleasure in me. "Wrap your legs around me, my love."
I obeyed him without questions, moaning his name out loud when he reached even deeper than before. He buried his face in my neck as he fucked faster, harder, and deeper.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck..."
"You want me to go harder, baby?"
"Yes! "Well, you better start begging."
“Please, Mingi, please…”
His cock filled my pussy harder until I felt the tip touch the end of my walls. In a moment of complete bliss, I grabbed his face and locked eyes with him. The surprise in his eyes made him buck his hips roughly. "Is my angel a slut, after all?" he smirked.
My body shuddered against him, and I felt a pleasure that intensified with the degrading name - slut.
"I love you," he whispered abruptly.
The sincerity in his eyes made my chest tighten and explode. "Since when?" I croaked out.
"I don't know," he smiled through the pleasure he felt. "I just do."
It was a feeling I knew all too well, as I felt the same.
A surge of bravery passed through me, maybe it was all from the payback and I want to get even. "Prove it," I smirked.
"Oh, you're going to be the death of me," he growled.
I screamed his name over and over again as he fucked his desires into me, until a strangled groan from him made his thrusts more desperate and sloppier.
His moans were getting higher and higher in pitch until he was nothing more than a whining, moaning mess. It turned me on to the highest degree.
"Come with me, love, please," he begged. "I need it..."
It was all I needed to hear, and there was no turning back. He broke an orgasm out of me, stripping me of any plans to defy him ever again.
His groans of pleasure matched his slowing thrusts and with a final plunge forward, hot cum filled began filling me. The little kisses he planted all over my face while whispering the dirtiest things with the most affectionate tone gave me the shivers.
He laid on top of me tiredly, and I was expecting him to stay like that because we were both tired and spent, but no. "Mingi?" I asked in confusion.
I was confused, I whined when he pulled out, going down on me to stare at my swollen pussy. It was so embarrassing, him being so close and personal down there.
"W-What are you doing?" I moaned again when I felt his fingers push back his cum back inside me.
"Can't let all of this go to waste, yes?" he smirked before diving in.
I almost had another orgasm at the sight. I felt Mingi eat me out hurriedly, holding my legs so I don't shut them close. The slurping sounds were so obscene.
Suddenly, he stopped and got back on top of me with the cockiest smirk on his face. He leaned down, forcefully opened my mouth, then opened his.
"Mmph!" I groaned lewdly, wide-eyed, but suddenly wet all over again.
I felt something wet, sticky, go in my mouth when Mingi kissed me - cum. He had just sucked his own cum from my pussy, and spit it out in my mouth.
"That's a good girl," he smirked, wiping his mouth with his hands. "Take it all in for me..."
He leans back at me again and I expectedly open my mouth for him again. His cum dribbled slowly from his mouth to mine and we both groaned at the erotic sight. "Swallow," he said.
I savoured his taste and swallowed, just like he wanted to. He bit his lips at my lewdness. "You did not just do that," I was bewildered.
"And what if I did?" Mingi smirked.
We lay next to each other, not saying a word, and just taking in what transpired between the two of us. I lay on Mingi's chest, tracing the tattoo on his chest.
"What's it for?" I asked absentmindedly.
"That, my love, is a brand that we wear to prove our loyalty," he replied patiently, rubbing my arms up and down. "Hongjoong drew it, himself."
"Does everyone have them?"
"Yes," he hummed. "Yunho has his on his chest too, Wooyoung and San both have theirs on their thighs. Hongjoong on his right wrist, Seonghwa on the left, Jongho on his arm, Yeosang on his back."
"I see," I replied lazily, laying back on his chest and just staying there. It wasn't awkward at all, I just felt relaxed with Mingi like this.
"You didn't reply to me earlier," Mingi's deep voice accused.
"With what?" I frowned, not even bothering to open my eyes.
"I told you I love you, I meant what I said," he sighed. "It wasn't a spur of the moment thing."
"But Mingi, this is only the second time we've seen each other, how can you love me?" I whispered, my tongue burning because I knew I was bullshitting myself with that.
"Don't be a hypocrite, precious," he chuckled. I huffed and he laughed. "You forget I'm the Don, I can see right through you."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I rolled my eyes playfully, turning away from him.
He grabbed me gently and gave me a quick kiss. I blushed when he kissed my nose. "Admit it," he pressed.
"Admit what?"
"That you're slowly falling in love with me," he grinned. "Just like I am with you, my queen."
I cursed under my breath. "Why do you keep calling me that?" I frowned, trying to divert the topic.
"I'll take that as a yes," he laughed. "You mean 'my queen'? So you get used to it since I want you by my side when I rule."
"Bold of you to assume I'll agree," I murmured.
"I mean, we already fucked each other's brains out, I'm just saying--"
"Mingi!"
We laughed out loud, and we laughed even harder when all we heard from outside the door were:
'Ha! Woo, you fucking owe me $50, I told you they'll make up!'
'Yeah, but the bet was if they make up before fucking, San!'
'I don't give a fuck. Hwa, you owe me too!'
'Me?! That was Yeosang!'
"Boss!"
I was startled when Mingi suddenly covered my whole naked body with the blanket protectively. Somebody just came through the door without knocking.
"Choi Jongho," Mingi seethed, shaking in anger. "It better be good or I swear I will shoot you on the spot."
"Ah," I heard our lovely driver fumble by the door. "Well, Hongjoong saw somebody steal the car in the garage."
Mingi sighed loudly. "Which one?"
"The white one."
"Well, did they break your legs first?"
"What?"
"I said," Mingi inhaled sharply. "Did they break your legs first?"
I stroked Mingi's thighs to calm him down. Though it turned me on to see him mad - sue me, he was hot - I liked Jongho and I don't want to see him dead yet.
"No," Jongho replied.
"So go and fucking chase it down, then!" Mingi howled. "Did you really have to go to me for that? Get the hell out of my room, out!"
"Hey, this is my house!" I heard Yunho shout from a distance.
"That I gave you!" Mingi screamed back.
I couldn't stop the laughter that erupted from my throat. I suppose it wouldn't be too bad trying to get along with everyone and see where this journey takes us. When Jongho shut the door, I peeked out from the blanket to find Mingi already staring at me.
"So," Mingi cleared his throat. "What now?"
I attempted to stifle a grin, but I failed. "Luckily for you, I like having power as well."
"Good," he beamed. I was in awe, where was the rugged and brusque man I met on the train station?
He bought out documents from the bedside table and began writing on it. "I just have to write your name in the official document so the enemy does not touch you," he explained when he saw me look at him curiously.
"They're eventually going to find out about you," he continued. "You have an English name, love?"
"Why?" I asked.
"For overseas," he shrugged. "Our operations extend out there, believe it or not."
I looked at him apprehensively. When Mingi saw me hesitate, he spoke up. "We'll take it one step at a time, okay?" he tenderly said. "I know this is a lot of change, but I promise you, nobody will hurt you. Hurting you will equate to hurting me as well. Any family I should know of?"
My heart swelled incredibly so. I was scared, terrified even, but I had a good feeling about him and everything that will come next.
"No," I smiled sadly. "I'm an orphan. And it's Rinoa."
He stopped in his tracks and looked up to meet my eyes. "You're very strong," he said with a small smile. "You have me and the boys now, no more worrying alone, okay? Put down your college information too, I'll pay for it from now on."
My eyes widened. "You don't have to," I whispered. "I've been managing on my own for years now."
"I know, love, but part of being mine is letting me take care of you. Let me take this burden off of your shoulders, okay?"
I wanted to tear up. I was confused, but felt very happy. "I hope you don't let me down," I whispered. " Or I'm going to beat you up," I grinned afterwards.
Mingi grinned back, kissing my hands tenderly. "I promise I'll give you everything and make you happy, and I'm sorry for all the stuff I put you through."
"No more lies?" I pointed out.
Mingi shook his head. "No more lies."
"So what's your English name too?"
Mingi chuckled. "I won't lie," he smirked. "But I never said I won't ask for some sort of payment."
I rolled my eyes and kissed him on the cheeks. His eyes widened in response. "That was fast," he laughed. "Look at you already wanting to know things about myself."
"Glad to know you're still the cocky man I met," I laughed. "Would've been weird if you just suddenly changed."
I looked at him expectantly with a cheeky smile. He laughed out loud before responding. "It's Stellan.”
"It suits you," I commented.
We stared at each other, just taking in the other person. Little by little, we'll get to each other, and it starts right here, and right now. "Come here," he began
He lifted me up to put me on his lap so I could straddle him and pulled me towards him until our lips danced in a game of truce.
I fell into his rhythm naturally as his arms wrapped around me and held me lovingly. I had found my lover with Mingi, and I had fallen in love with him.
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