#it��s an inside job au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

screampied · 6 days ago

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PARTITION! g. satoru

ৎ୭ sum. your sugar daddy, satoru’s worst fear happened. he fears you’re too much of a spoiled rotten brat. screw riding in his expensive private limousine—you wanted to ride something else instead. (him, duh)

wc. 7.3k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy gojo! au, age gap (early twenties + thirties), car sęx, bratty reader, unprotected, getting eaten out the window, tít job, reverse cowgirl, doggy, cunnīlingus, nanami cameo, slight alcohol consumption, size kink, cęrvix kissing, possessive themes (wearing waist beads w his initials), implied multiple rounds, he’s sooo whipped, bręeding.

➤ sd! gojo masterlist

“meet my baby here, sweets. charlotte.”

“satoru, what.”

as satoru had an arm slinked around your waist, brushing a thumb across the jewels that stuck against of of the many designer blouses he’s bought you within the past week, he hums. the two of you were staring straight at a limousine. it was icy blue like his eyes with a plethora of dark-tinted windows. to even top it off, it had ‘G.S limousine service, inc.’ carved into the side of one of the doors in bright, blue cursive.

you huffed, smearing your glossed lips together. “you named your limousine?”

“heh, well she’s yours now,” he hums, guiding you toward the slid open doors. “c’mon, there’s a club i wanna take you to. if we leave now, we can beat the press.” and satoru takes a peek at his gleaming, pricey watch. he helps lifts the back of your long skirt from touching the ground before you step in. immediately, you’re hit with flashing lights inside the luxurious car and its plush red seats.

“where to, sir.” a blond chauffeur adjusts his mirror with a sigh, taking a short glance at you.

satoru throws an arm around you, tugging lightly on his tie that’s tucked neatly in his suit. “ah, kento, meet my girl. and please—drive us to my private lounge,” satoru kisses your cheek as you sit, whispering in an impish, low tone. “buckle up, sweetheart. ‘s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

the seats were oh-so-soft, a violent hot color of maroon as the entire limo was lit up with nothing but dim flashing, flashing lights.

it was bright, the size alone was probably bigger than a simple normal bathroom. satoru saw you taking in the luxurious life like you always did, craning your head from left to right before peering at the empty wine glasses in front of you both.

“it’s so pretty,” you hummed, your head resting against his shoulder.

once you’re laid against him, you’re smacked with his signature loud cologne scent. it was always a scent you’d never forget, nor could you get used to.

it’s strong, making you take the citrusy manly aroma in silence every time.

with a raised brow, you look up at the white-haired man before timidly murmuring, “wait- what do you mean this is mine? like.. the whole thing?”

“yeah, silly girl,” satoru brushes a thumb around the center of your forehead in invisible circles.

you’ve grown to get weak with his tender touch every time. cerulean-iced eyes lock against you lovingly, and that’s when that cunning grin spreads at each side of his crooked lips. “think of it as an uh- surprise gift for the new year.”

with a pout, you open your mouth to complain. “satoru- last week, you just bought me-”

“a convertible, and i’d do it again in a heartbeat,” satoru whispers, planting another kiss near your temple.

your incoming words come to an abrupt pause, and the cute speechless look you gave him always made him hum in amusement.

one of the many things satoru liked- no loved about you, was that you were always so humble.

you were forever grateful, but you couldn’t help but be hesitant sometimes at how much he’d constantly spend for you. satoru continued to shower you with compliment though—constantly reassuring you that he wanted to splurge his money on you.

you were living the dream - literally.

embodying the life of a rich girl, a type of rich girl where you’d usually see in cheesy movies or sung in iconic songs by artists like gwen stefani.

even though it’s been a full-blown year, you’ve started to grow accustomed to the sweet luxury of being a sugar baby.

satoru gojo’s sugar baby.

but he wasn’t starting to see you as just his pretty ‘lil sugar baby though, that much was apparent.

satoru didn’t expect you to not only take his money but his heart too.

and he never minded.

he couldn’t put a price on that anyway.

“besides,” he grabs a clear, empty glass and an unopened bottle from underneath the fuzzy, red seat. with a flick, satoru removes the cork that is plugged near the top with just his thumb and middle finger. as he pours a small portion of wine inside, the velvet-colored liquid stains against all sides of the glass.

“what’s mine is yours, baby,” he takes a sip before sighing at the cassis flavor hits against his tastebuds, “ ‘s what my sweet thing deserves.”

as you’re still pouting, the limo continues to drive.

the windows were tinted, but it was clear as day when you looked through them to take a quick peel. as usual, the roads were quite busy with rush hour but it was a smooth ride nonetheless.

however though, you had to admit, you were getting a bit… bored.

satoru sat man spread, both of his wide legs taking so much unnecessary space before he contemptibly sighed again. with one of his arms still wrapped around you, you took a moment to take in his suave, handsome appearance.

he always was draped in nothing but tuxedos—

after all, without the whole sugar daddy side thing, you sometimes forget how satoru was a literal well-known businessman.

he never really went into the specifics of his work, but you knew he was the CEO of some private company.

satoru was a very powerful man, a man with a big net worth … but an even bigger heart.

the shoes that satoru wore were dress shoes of his own brand, of course. in the luminous, glittery lights of the inside of the limousine—the shoes were visibly spit-shined from top to bottom. his suit’s dark black, and the handkerchief that stuck out of his front chest had the imprints of your lipstick on it.

of course he kept that.

his hair..

it’s messily ruffled but somewhat presentable, slicked back as usual with a faint side part. over time, you started to notice how he was growing facial hair too.

it’s subtle, and you’d have to squint but you saw it. you saw how specks of white hair were trying to form down near his chin.

it was attractive nonetheless, and the thought of satoru growing a stubble had you squeezing your thighs together in shame.

after all, he was in his early-thirties so he was bound to grow some facial hair at some point. he’s always been a well-shaved man, but the image forever plagued your mind.

“yeees, sweets.” he snaps you out of your little fantasm, the near-empty wine glass still in his hand. he sits the expensive bottle of ‘screaming eagle’ near the limo’s bar that was covered with dozens of tiny, pretty rhinestones.

“h.. huh?” you stammer, blinking thrice.

shit.

the way you stared at him was like a deer in headlights. caught red-handed!

that same wry grin that stretched so slyly pried at both cracks of his lips before satoru tilted his head. “you’re starin’ y’know,” and you felt his hand placed on your thigh. “is my baby bored?”

“a little,” you admitted, hearing the loud screeching of tire wheels and screaming horns of other cars in the background.

only satoru could make you feel like you were the only girl in the world..

slowly, satoru dragged his pink tongue over his upper lip which was a bit damp from the scarlet-colored wine.

you sucked in a raucous breath - your thoughts turning more ‘n more filthy by the second.

his lips.. they were so perfect, naturally glossed, and forevermore had a plump downward curve. you could stare at them all day, and your eyes widened once a drip of wine started to trickle down the right side of his lip.

“ooh- excuse me. guess ‘m a bit messy today,” he throatily chuckles, feeling the coldness of the red droplet race down his skin. “would you be a doll ‘n lick that up for me, sweetheart?”

“okay-” you comply right away, positioning yourself on his lap.

satoru titters, cocking his head lazily toward the left as you get comfortable. cute, he thinks.

he could already tell how eager you were. also, he didn’t tell you the duration of the ride but it was probably about a good hour.

like hell could you even wait that long.

it felt like time was so cruel - standing still as you inched closer and closer toward his face. satoru laid man spread the entire time, eyeing you closely with his gaze never leaving yours.

he paws a big hand near your waist, hearing your pretty airy breaths pick up.

“stop looking at me like that-”

“aw, is it a crime to stare at my gi-”

satoru’s fatally silenced with a kiss.

it’s a rough one, and you couldn’t wait to run your tongue across the remnants of cherry-flavored wine that now started to drip down his chin.

it tasted sweet - a spicy cherry flavor, and you moaned once his knee aligned itself between your thighs.

his thigh was so bulky too, even underneath the lanky, slender slacks he wore. satoru was a particularly ripped guy in general — you knew his workout routine like the back of your hand, and sometimes he’d even let you do sets with him.

(sets that mainly consisted of you sitting on his back while he did push-ups orrrr sitting on his abs while he used barbells in his private gym)

“mhm~” you moan against his lips, hearing the competitive sounds of teeth rudely smacking against each other in vigorous sync.

each tongue’s on a dangerous mission, desperately trying to dominate the other and you couldn’t help but melt.

your twisting, hot tongue started to wander, creating a slippery snail trail near the crack of his mouth before nibbling on his bottom lip. “sa- satoruu.” you’d breathe, one hand giving his tie a needy, impatient pull.

“heyyy, you know i don’t speak whine,” he whispers, breaking away from your lips for a second.

your lips were already swollen, slickly shining with saliva that could’ve been an easily replaceable substitute for lip gloss. “use those words, sweetheart,” and it was like the more he spoke, the deeper his voice seductively pitched.

the knee that still rested between your sprawled open legs didn’t make things easier either. “tell me what you want ‘n maybe i’ll give it to ya, hm?”

with a huff, you mumble a soft, “you-”

“well yeah, me silly! elaborate for me though.”

“i want- i want you.. i want all of you satoru. right now,” you go into more detail, leaning in to paint a slope of wet kisses down his neck. satoru’s collar was a bit unkempt—some exposed skin showed above his collar which you then brought upon yourself to attack with kisses. “pretty please.”

“hah- but.. you already have me,” he inhales, groaning once he feels you starting to grind against his lap.

satoru’s touch was pure static..

his fingers couldn’t help but mindlessly roam, tickling against your bare skin that protruded through the minuscule squares of your ripped fishnets.

the stare you two shared was just so intimate, and he could almost already smell your lusty, loud arousal..

“mhm- y’know, what i want too?” satoru huskily whispers against your ear, grunting as your hips slooooowly rubbed against his visible boner.

hugely, it stuck out through his jet-black slacks. leave it to you to always make him hard.

“tell me.” you reply with a chastened frown, sliding a hand up his loose button-up. your hand enters underneath his shirt and his skin is so warm that it feels like his entire body is on fire.

right away, your curious palm gets a taste of his hardened abs that were nearly akin to the texture of a damn brick.

rigid, flexing muscles of satoru’s relax at your touch before he grabs a nice chunk of your ass.

“oh, nothing! ‘m just a.. ‘lil thirsty, sweets..”

♡ ♡ ♡

“ohmygod-” you’d squeal, cupping a clammy palm over your mouth.

when satoru said he was thirsty, you surely didn’t expect him to have you hanging out the window with your ass perfectly perked out.

with a single hand, he pulled up your skirt, raising it to the brink of your waistline while dragging your pretty lace panties to the side with a single thumb.

you were partially hanging out the window - safely though, he’d never let you fall.

satoru had an arm wrapped around your waist, one hand sliding down your thigh. vehemently, his tongue swirled circles around your clit before giving it one looooong suck.

his lips puckered, and he could already feel your hips starting to stutter against his mouth.

“mng- ‘toru,” you’d heave, wriggling your ass around his face. the tip of his nose started to rub up and down your slit too, and he’s shamelessly getting a whiff of your candied mess.

he was always so nasty, proudly spitting on your pussy, lapping it up before it dripped onto the thousand-dollar seats.

“mhh- wiggle that ass a little more for me baby, dance with my.. haaah- tongue,” he whispers airily, thumbing a fat finger near your pulsing clit. satoru found it so cute how you’d pulse every time he’d smear slippery circles around your pussy.

you just couldn’t help it!

you’re sucking in each ‘n every breath, sinking the edges of your teeth into your bawled knuckle to suppress your moans.

a strong gust of wind strikes you as the car continues to move, and you’re just meekly smiling at the cars that pass by.

from their points of view… the drivers are just seeing some random girl slightly hanging out a halfway-lowered limousine window.

in reality though,

you were getting eaten out while dozens of cars speedily drove past you.

through your slightly blurred peripherals, you saw satoru’s chauffeur who you remember hearing him address as ‘kento’ earlier, giving you a peer through his side-view mirror. he had his hands firmly on his steering wheel, scoffing to himself with a head shake.

he mumbled something under his breath as he looked away, focusing his browned eyes on the talking GPS that read him the directions to the destination.

from your sweet, repetitive moans, you couldn’t exactly make out what he said but from a quick read of his lips, you’d probably guess it was something like:

“i don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

as you’re still hung out the window, your legs part a bit - causing your eyes to widen.

satoru’s slurping you clean, skipping frisky plump fingers down your thigh before cupping his plump lips around your pussy. his head, it moves back and forth, ferociously shifting side to side like a damn madman.

you probably looked soo stupid. your mouth stayed open the entire time with your jaw forever dropped—dangling like an earring.

“fuh- fuuuck,” your trembling voice pitches higher, and you claw a hand near the back of your ass.

tightly gripping at a piece of your ass, it fits around your hand entirely before you turn to look back at satoru.

already, his chin’s got a pretty coat of your juices pouring down his jaw. his tongue was just hungry, wanting far more than just a few sips of his expensive screaming eagle..

you were far sweeter than any beverage, and satoru continuously took big, big gulps.

he treated his lips like a straw, pursing them to suck before slurping every single drop of you clean until you could barely hold your legs open.

“mhm- look at alllll this pretty fuckin’ ass,” he groans, removing your hand that was gripped on your rear.

with a whack! he hits it, humming at the cute ‘lil jolt of your shimmying body.

your skin jiggles in his face instantly, and you feel his curving tongue precisely slow its frantic pace down by the second.

there….

the tip of his pointed tongue stretched itself so far out that it clicked itself against your precious g-spot. “mng- spread y’rself wider, baby. ‘m not done with my.. hah- drink.”

“suh- sssatoru,” you’d drag out your whiny, pathetic words.

your brows formed into a furrow as your hands grabbed onto the edges of the rolled-down window. sweaty, perspiring fingertips imprinted the fogged glass as he licked every wet orifice thoroughly.

thankfully, some music was blasting in the background—seemingly drowning out your constant, pleading whines and whimpers..

satoru’s designer tie even gets a bit wet - you’re drip drip dripping, tears of glossy slick pouring flawlessly from both sides of your legs. he brings a thumb toward your hole, feeling your cute wriggles before spitting down your pussy.

slowly, the webby string trails a straight, sloppy line down and he licks it up — removing his thumb and starting at your hole before lapping his tongue down the bottom part of your pussy.

he’s wholeheartedly feral - animalistic, working his tongue until your brain turns into mush.

eventually, you ended up crawling back into the spacious limousine and landed on your back.

with your legs still spread, satoru lifts your thighs, continuing his feast. “mmph- get back here, sweets. ‘m not haaah- done,” he’d jibe each time he’d squint to see your cute weak pulse up close.

you’re impatient - desperate for your release so much that you could almost taste it..

it tasted sweet with a bit of tang, and the more you fantasized about your inevitable orgasm— the more more more you were starting to blank out all on his tongue.

“mnh- attaaaaa girl, let ‘toru get a nice good sip.” he’s still slurping you, a few excess juices smearing against his cheek.

satoru’s long, white lashes flutter open and close as he relishes in your treacly taste.

you just couldn’t stay still though.

with the way your hips cutely tossed ‘n turned each time his tongue delved inside of your sopping cunt, he’d think your middle name was ‘squirmer.’

time drags by for a looong time, not as long as satoru’s tongue though.. not by a long shot..

it flicked its way through each spot, munching proudly against your clit before your tummy tucked inward. your brain haywires, and with your mouth wide open — the only sounds that escaped were small, labored breaths.

you’re cumming, and your lashes frantically blinked at so many blinks per second. your muscles that were once tense relaxed as you’re finally succumbing to pleasure.

you squealed out that final, harmonic battle cry before your head plopped into the edge of the limo’s seat.

“fuck- fuck, fuuuck,” you’re whimpering, repeating the same swear like a broken record as you feel him grab ahold of your writhing hips.

his tongue’s length curved its way everywhere, creating a path to remember as it made itself known at all tender areas of your pussy.

“uh huh- that’s it, good girl. ride it out, riiiide it out, i gotcha,” he groans, laying his tongue fully flat. it’s a rose-like pink, soddened tastebuds sizzling in contempt once you’re ‘quenching’ his thirst with your sweetened arousal.

buzzing sounds went in and out of your ears as you just released huff after puff through your lungs. satoru’s lips were glossed with nothing but your slick, even more than they already were.

he gives your poor, convulsing clit its last finally smooches before reluctantly breaking away.

“hah- never a dull moment with her,” he licks his lips from top to bottom, grabbing out his lipstick-stained handkerchief before patting underneath his chin. “you okay, sweetheart?”

“ ‘m okay,” you breathe, still feeling tingles surge through every one of your veins that ran down your wobbly, numb limbs. your legs had it the worse.

you barely felt anything, and satoru helped you back to your feet.

it was a limo, so it wasn’t like you could exactly stand but you sufficed by crouching just below the fuzzy-made hood.

satoru lies slouched back - giving his lap a few playful pats before tilting his head at you. “c’mere, sweet thing,” and his voice was dripping with erotic silk.

his ocean-strong eyes zero down at your body, trailing up up up before eventually stopping just about your waistline.

your skirt was now off — pulled to the floor and so were your panties. you only had your matching blouse on. you got an idea though, and satoru watched you get on your knees. “oh..?”

“ ‘toru,” you speak in shortened puffs, still trying to get over your recent teeth-shattering orgasm. every sensitive axon and nerve located in your body was screaming at you, aching for more stimulation as time passed.

as your hands casually spread his long legs wider across the cushioned seats, you hummed. “remember those waist beads you ordered me a few weeks back?”

“mhm,” he nods, eyes never darting away from your wriggling body for a second.

satoru wondered what your game was.

as he was trying to prevent himself from smiling, he was starting to realize that maybe, just maybe you were starting to get just a liiiiitle bit spoiled.

as his legs were fully sprawled apart, you brought your hands toward the hem of the designer blouse that stuck against your skin. you honestly lost count of just how many clothes satoru’s bought you within the past year.

he watches closely - zeroing down at your figure, nipping on his lip as he stares at you leisurely pulling the piece of clothing off of you.

satoru’s seen your skin countless times, but there was just something about your body that he just couldn’t get enough of.

couldn’t get enough of you..

if he was being honest, he could stare at you all day.

“look. it fits perfectly,” you speak in a sweet tone, your thighs stuck together as you were still dripping from the inner crevices. you could feel yourself throbbing, and it took everything in you to not let out a moan.

satoru tsks, kissing his teeth once he’s now exposed to your skin.

the damn beads,

they wrapped around your waist and indeed fit your entire torso. his eyes studied the gold that went around your raised hips, whistling once he saw those two crystallized initials - his initials.

‘G.S’

the small two letters hung on one waist bead that was drooped low near your naval and an extra twin pair near the charms behind your back. “fuuuck- know that’s right,” satoru huffs, his breathing starting to get a bit heavy.

“all mine, heh- looks so damn pretty on you,” and as his eyes continued to meander down your skin, satoru’s head rests back against the softly cushioned seat. “hm- how ‘bout you model for me? show off that gorgeous body a little more f’ me.”

“say ‘please’,” you’d get on his lap, wrapping your arms around him. satoru looks up at you with a mere pouting scowl, a hand instinctively attaching itself to your hip.

“pleaaase, oh-pleaseeee sweets. don’t tease me too bad, you’re bein’ a bit of a spoiled girl right now,” he whispers, bringing wet, cold lips toward the corner of your neck. you moaned, feeling satoru’s free hand strum a few fingers down your waist beads.

they clank clank clanked, creating pretty jingle sounds at each faint movement before you started to move your hips.

“goddamn-” he holds in a breath, practically wordless as his eyes continued to rove.

briskly, you slowly turned yourself around, teasingly popping your hips to the dropping beats of the song that played through the limo’s speakers.

satoru’s suddenly short of breath, circling a thumb around the left cheek of your ass. he’s so hard, and you could feel it the more you rubbed your ass right up against thaaat particular spot.

he sucks his teeth once more, grunting as he feels the cloth knead against your skin so good..

“woman, you’re bein’ such a bratty tease right now..” and he could taste that round, large lump forming near the very back of his throat.

satoru shivers as your hands place on the crown of his knees, and you’re starting to rock rock rock back ‘n forth his throbbing boner. “hmph. the things i let ‘cha get away with, lucky ‘m not.. haah- fuck, bending ya over my lap, baby.”

“you talk a lot for a guy with a boner this hard, ‘toru.” you shrug, continuing the sensual jerking of your hips.

he’s grunting at every swift turn of your body, hearing his heart loudly thump through his ears.

the limo’s speed picks up a few miles and you could hear the grumbling from underneath the vehicle as you stayed quiet for a few seconds.

“mmh- fine, since you said please.”

as you’re still facing the other way, you reach for his buckle with your fingers brushing near the cold straps. you couldn’t see, so he grabbed your hand—guiding you where to unbuckle his slacks.

“f.. fuck, hurry up. you rubbin’ against me isn’t helping matters at all, y’know,” he tries to laugh but it comes out very dry.

satoru just wanted to be inside you, making you remember your place with a few sloppy strokes.

you giggled, hearing his pants and boxers sliiiide down to his ankles with a thud before jostling your rear way back against his leaning cock. it hung so cutely, and its tip was swollen with veins protruding at a few girthy sides.

with satoru still having a hold of your hand, he makes you touch the leaking head. “ooh,” you hum, twirling a thumb around his tender frenulum.

as you do so, he moans out the sluttiest moan, pretty white lashes squeezing shut for about three seconds to savor this moment.

“heh.. little girl,” he gutturally prowls, aligning his dick in between the crack of your fleshy mounds. it’s very hard, and you hummed at the warmth he provided. “go on then.. ride me in reverse, sweets. this the ride you wanted all along, hm?”

“yeaah,” you played along, almost seeing the weary smirk unfurl across his lips as he spoke.

you couldn’t wait any longer either.

you were throbbing persistently, every fiber of your being longing for satoru to ease his way inside of your pretty, sobbing cunt.

he was so big that your hand could barely wrap around the entity of his length. instantly, your palms met with various veins as you raised your hips moderately.

his vermillion-shaded tip carefully hovered over your dripping hole, and satoru’s just heavily breathing at your stilled body.

“mngh-” you released a rough, jagged breath once you were slowly making your way down on his cock.

like usual, you’re presented with that loving tiiiiight stretch that lasts for about a good four seconds.

satoru’s tip alone was big, and it pummeled through your insides as his inches started to leisurely disappear.

it’s such a lewd scene - a scene he wouldn’t mind replaying over ‘n over again in his head..

your pussy sings out sloshes of wet high notes in harmony, trying to take in his weighty shaft.

your mouth opens up on its own, and you’re breathing out colorful swears of ‘ohhh fuuuck’ ‘s as you continue to sink your way down.

from the both of you, countless breathy breaths were drawn from both raspy lungs as the mouthwatering penetration continued.

it felt like a squeeze pinching near your insides, tickling around you from the inside before adding pounds of pressure pressure pressure..

your hands go back to being placed on his knees, whimpering as his slick cock eases its way inside of your pussy. spongy, clamping walls hugged around him like a vice and your teeth were starting to feel that familiar chatter.

“god- always s- so fuckin’ big, ‘toru,” you moan, your bratty ‘lil façade shortly faltering once he’s finally buried balls fuckin’ deep.

the pit of your tummy was constantly heaving, cowardly sucking itself in and out at the sheer weight of his size before you eventually relaxed.

“perfect fit for my perfect… hah- girl.” he grunts, taking a quick peer down at your unbalanced thighs that struggled to move at first.

gradually, your hips started to move and greeted satoru’s lap with a sharp, rude slam. once you started to adapt to a rhythm, your hips rolled and rolled.

“agh- that’s i.. iiiiit,” he choked on his saliva, playing with the waist beads that danced against your torso as you moved.

satoru moans, feeling his fat base smush its way against your ass once you sat down. your hips were reeling, winding back into his pelvis like a wind-up toy.

with parched, hot skin amongst skin - the sounds echoed against the limo, nearly sounding over the music that played in the background.

satoru’s watching as you plop straight back into him before you sprightly wriggle your hips in a seductive circle.

“my, ain’t you a naughty girl..” he tosses his head back in overwhelming rapture, feeling his dick twitch inside you as the sloppy sounds continue.

it was hard not to hear - if it was anything satoru knew about your pussy, he knew that it was always, always vocal with him..

you’re slamming back against his lap every time, squeezing your palms against the crowns of his knees with your body twirling and falling back into his inviting lap.

if you kept riding him like that, he’d really be head over heels.

“ugh- yeah, girl. ride it, ride this dick like it’s yours because it fuckin’ is,” satoru grunts, feeling your cunt tighten for a second at his exact words. “heh- did my messy girl like that? like hearin’ that ‘m yours, sweetheart?”

“mhm,” you’d nod with your lips clamped shut.

he’s just so big, stretching through your insides with such ease. the once slow and steady beats of your heart were now thump thump thumping!

satoru’s bulbous-shaped tip had a hooked upturning curve, and fuck did you feel every sloping curve as you bounced up ‘n down on his cock.

it’s so good that your mouth’s pathetically watering from the inside, and you’re already starting to feel that burning sensation electrify through your aching, stretched muscles.

“mngh- look at this body, s… so damn-” and he pauses, clenching his jaw at the sloppy wet feeling of your barriers bear-hugging around his cock.

you’re just working your hips like it’s a full-time job, throwing them around in a circle so fast that even satoru could barely keep up.

with thighs upon thighs upon thighs, your skin sticks against his like glue. a trail of colorless slick smears down satoru’s leg and he moans at the loud slaps of zealous, clapping skin.

you’re sticky still, and he’s moaning louder once the speed of your hips quickens.

“yeah? yeah, better- fuckin’-ride-me,” and even though his voice faintly cracks, satoru still manages a sort of poised, cocky persona.

multiple ‘encouraging’ swats hit against the cheeks of your ass and you’re whining, putting your all into the movements of your jerking body. satoru’s snowy brows contort before he gives your waist beads a soft tug.

“do it, fuck me, baby. ‘n while you’re at it..” and as you’re still moving your hips, you feel a bit of paper rain down your back that’s starting to perspire with sweat.

“fuck-” satoru grunts smokily, staring as hundred dollar bills fall down your bare spine. “forgot ‘ta give you your allowance, might as well give it to you now.”

“hngh- satoruuu,” you whined, his cock hitting its way through every spot. it french-kisses near your clit before passionately making out with your cervix.

it located both spots easily, and the feeling had your toes curling inside of your four-inch heels.

satoru ended up tossing those same bills down your back, staring as it prettily fell down your body before landing on his lap and the limo’s cottony carpet.

“ ‘m gonna cum i think,” you moaned, slowing your turning hips in hypnotic, carnal arcs. satoru’s hands were brought to your waist with two thumbs pressed at each side of your hips. “ ‘m cummin’ satoru.”

“me too, s.. sweets,” he swallows, hissing silently at the unsteady bucking of your bouncing ass.

your rear jiggled at each slamming thrust, ricocheting against his thighs and it was just so mesmerizing to watch.

satoru’s feeling the scorching tip of his cock grow hot, and he’s starting to feel all types of contractions arise within his muscles. “god- tell me where to tell me where.”

“inside,” you moaned, bringing your hands toward your chest to cup to bouncing tits. you squeezed them, smearing a thumb around your hardened nipples before making yourself even more aroused.

it’s just so much to process.

your rutting hips, the loud squelches of your pussy, satoru’s dick driving through you repeatedly.. oh, you were in a daze.

“f- fuuuuck. be a… hah- good girl ‘n take it all then.” he groans, elated euphoria swelling within him.

you stuck against his lap so good, slickly sliding your ass back before going forward, then back into his pelvis again.

your movements alone left such a good taste in his mouth, and once he feels himself about to burst - he fuckin’ bursts.

a massive load spurts out of satoru, shooting deeply into your fluttering womb as your hips come to a freezing still.

you’re cumming too - whimpering as you’re gushing down on his cock while being absolutely filled.

wads ‘n wads of milky, gooey cum floods inside of you, plugging you to the fullest. you’re both moaning lowly, rocking against each other in rushed unison before you arch forward.

your ass was fully bent over, and satoru stared openly as he was still shooting such deep, frothy amounts inside of you.

you looked so pretty like this that he couldn’t help but mentally take a picture, widely peering at the foamy droplets of cum that started to trickle their way down his overwhelmed base—creating a sparkling white ring.

it’s still as thick - still as veiny, and satoru makes you raise your hips ever-so-slightly.

doing so, he stares at your soddened pussy that’s lewdly spitting out a few heaps of cum before hearing that cute wet ‘plop!’

“fuckin’ dirty girl..” he huffs, one hand softly caressing your waist beads. he takes a glance at the ‘G.S.’ initials that were engraved near the back side of the many other charms, and he sighs.

right as you’re pulled up to where his creamy tip was juuuust about to slide away from your soused opening, satoru gives your stuffed pussy a soft pat.

“don’t know who’s dirtier…. herrrr,” he mumbles, swabbing a thumb around your cum-covered hole before bringing it up to his mouth.

with a wet smacking ‘ccht’ of satoru’s lips coming together—he licks his thumb clean, cooing silently at the taste of himself like the filthy, filthy man he was. “or you.”

♡ ♡ ♡

after many, many positions, you found yourself losing multiple rounds with your shallow breath as if even breathing was a mere contest. he’s had you in position after position, folding you like a freshly baked pretzel. it’s almost like the two of you weren’t literally in a limousine.

you hoped his chauffeur nanami didn’t hear. that would’ve been well, embarrassing.

the drive felt like forever.. but, you honestly didn’t want it.. this to end.

you’re a mess, stuffed to the uttermost fullest with ribbons of satoru’s freshly hot cum messily tearing down every slick crevice of your thighs.

currently, satoru had you in one of his favorite positions.

doggy.

part of the reason why he loved it so much was mainly because of the perfect, jiggling view.

your ass - he loved seeing how it would react from each rude smack, swatting his palm over and over again at your cute, tender skin. the pads of your hands pressed firmly into the limo’s seats as he’s just giving you the pound of a damn lifetime.

“mngh!” you’d whine out, drooling from the sides of your jittery, spit-slick lips that refused to stay shut.

he’s effortlessly reaching all the right areas, swiftly pumping his way past that cute taut ring of your entrance that he’s grown to love.

that brief tight stretch nearly makes him lose his mind, and satoru then brings his hands toward your waist. “right there, right fuckin’ th— mmph!”

“shhh, you’re gonna.. hah- miss the best part, sweets,” the white-haired man cups a hand over your mouth.

slow strokes - deeper thrusts..

your eyes rolled ‘n rolled back, gasping against his palm once he sneaks a hand in between your wet thighs. with your waist beads tickling against his wrist, satoru gives your pussy a soft smack.

your wetness ‘splashes’ against the center of his hand, and it even pops out a cute sound too.

“uuugh- ‘m gonna… cum agaiiin,” you’d raise your ass in the air just a bit more, your voice turning more whiny within seconds.

your words were still a bit muffled with his hand covering your mouth, but he still made out your whiny, inaudible words—just barely. .

the sounds of fierce, sharp hips brutally clashing against skin every time made him groan. it’s a booming resounding ‘pop!’ or ‘pap!’ noise every time that makes your entire body ring instead of just your ears.

his cock’s searching through your wet, gripping walls as if it had some sort of life purpose.

“hah- me t.. too, sweetheart,” and fuck, satoru’s drowning in his sweat. “phew-” satoru brings the back of his wrist to wipe some from his forehead. glancing down, he stares at your jouncing ass before giving you one, snappingly deep thrust.

“pussy’s a fuckin’ workout- oh shiiiiit.” and satoru’s feeling you clamp clamp clamp down on him, giving his dick the work of its life.

you could feel the individual staticky pulses of your clit signaling messages to you that you’re just so close and you’re nearly salivating inside of your mouth.

soooo good.. for a moment you forgot the two of you were still in the back of a limousine.

he’s fucking you so good that you could barely think straight.

satoru’s still playing with your pussy, giving it spanks in between his robust thrusts.

his rotund tip beat red, an oxblood blush of red as he continued to ram a heart-shaped sloppy kiss toward your clit.

at that moment, your legs cutely retreated and your chest collapsed forward. “feels s.. sooo good satoru, ngh- ‘toruuu!”

as your body spasmed at the onslaught of his reckless, sloppy thrusts - your hips were all the way raised against his lap.

you’re losing track of thoughts as you’re harshly creaming down his shaft, murmuring out cute little babbles of ‘ooohs’ once you feel his angle deepen.

satoru brings a hand down your fleshy back, staring at your skin that was wetly decorated with sweat while studying the goosebumps that ran down your spine.

“ ‘m gonna.. hah- cum,” he groans, a few stubby fingers thrumming down the gold waist beads that wrapped around your waist.

he brings his thumb toward the tiny ‘G.S.’ initials before pressing his honed-shaped pelvis wholly into you with just a single, barbaric thrust.

“all mine, my pretty… hah- wife.”

wife?

you heard that — you definitely heard it, but part of you wondered if maybe satoru was just overly pussy drunk as usual.

but the thought alone - the thought of actually being his wife of satoru gojo, your sugar daddy, didn’t seem too bad.

as the image of you walking down the aisle crossed your mind, your throbbing brought you straight back into orgasmic reality.

“wait.. hnng- pull out,” you’d moan, another idea popping into your head. instead of satoru usually finishing inside, you had a better idea.

“haah- ‘kay,” he pants, his snapping hips working overtime as they continually mercilessly plunge deep into your heated core.

his rhythm was far slower, but his thrusts were always in such a hurried frenzy.

he’s close - so so close.

you’re still covered with his cum from before from the legs down, and it paints such a pretty canvas on you.

a lewd, erotic canvas maybe..

quickly, satoru ends up pulling out with a hand wrapped around his cock that painfully throbbed. it scrunched up a bit at the sudden coldness, already missing your clingy warmth before you flip over.

“h.. hm?”

“ ‘toru, put ‘em between here.” you spoke in a hushed tone, sinking your knees into the limo’s velveteen-made seats.

he hungrily stares at you with nothing but lust surrounding the entirety of his rounded, dilated pupils. at your sweet, breathy word of ‘here,’ you brought two hands up to your breasts.

“naughty… temptress,” satoru clicks his tongue. aligning his swollen dick in between the crack of your sweat-dripping chest, it easily sliiiiiides its way through.

he watches intently as you squeeze your tits together, glancing up at him with those pretty, siren eyes of yours that were starting to droop.

“mmh,” and as his tip disappears between the slot of your chest, you hang your head down, flicking your tongue across the tender slit of his shaft.

“f- fuck, ‘m gonna cum. can’t- hold it anymore, sweets,” satoru groans, his words so guttural ‘n low that they sounded almost like a growl.

he knew he wasn’t gonna last much longer, not when you were on your knees—stuffing his dick right between your perked tits.

he’s sloppily starting to thrust his cock in and out between the valley of your breasts and felt himself throb at each cute jounce they created amongst each other.

so …. soft.

satoru’s achy tip was forming into an angry shade of bloodshot red, and the entirety of his shaft was smoldering from the stimulation. after a few long milliseconds though—he finds himself shooting white blanks again.

he’s fucking between your tits as you held them together, spraying a nice sum of his load onto your chest. you gasp, a bit landing on your lip and you lick it.

satoru’s moaning - no, grunting as he’s finishing against your breasts. he drags a shaky hand through his tousled, white hair before letting off a deep, heavy sigh.

“ohhh… fuck,” he grumbles, the tips of his ears burning a fiery pink.

his limp cock now remains idle, still buried between your tits before you slide your tongue across the leaking creamed tip.

it’s so glossy, dribbling from all sides with his pasty mess plastered on the upper part of your chest. “didn’t know i had.. such a dirty sweethe- fuck.”

satoru pauses for theatrics — holding his breath, thinking he was still cumming, but he wasn’t.

his mind was simply playing tricks, and his jaw clenched once you lapped up the remnants of bittersweet tasting cum that splattered on you. you used your thumb to reach the spots your tongue couldn’t, and once you were finished, satoru bent down to pull you into a fervent, deep kiss.

you moaned against his lips as the limousine still created miles upon miles. you lost track of time, but you’d guess it’s probably been well over an hour's drive.

“mng-” satoru grunts into your lips, feeling your arms wrap around him. he still had his button-up shirt on the entire time along with his suit just above his torso. he’s tasting himself on your lips, grunting once he felt your hand tug on his ruffled black tie.

your tongue was sticky, swirling a circular pattern around the inside of his mouth before you sucked on his.

satoru allowed you to make him get underneath you, and he felt your legs crawling on top of him.

as you’re both still deeply making out — fighting each other with sharp slaps of teeth smacking against each other, you gingerly pull away.

“i’m your wife now?”

“h.. hm?”

“earlier,” you lick near the corner of his lip. “you said ‘m your pretty wife.”

satoru gives you a sleazy lopsided grin. he looked so pussy drunk that he almost forgot about that tiny piece of dialogue that spouted from his lips.

“ah, i did call you my wife, didn’t i, sweets?” and as a thumb caresses around your cheek, he hoarsely whispers. “well, do you want to be?”

bringing a wet, torrid kiss toward his bottom crooked lip, you hummed. “i do.”

“wish you would’ve told me sooner though,” he sheepishly says, giving his tie a few meek pulls. “i could’ve proposed the right way but.. this is fine too, i gues-.”

“shhh-” you silence him with yet another barrage of kisses, cupping his face.

satoru grunts, hearing the little jangles of your waist brands yet again as your hips laboriously swayed against him.

your forehead is pressed against his and its hit with a bunch of sweat from satoru.

satoru moans from your ardent, vehement kisses, his lips being left all plump, reddened, and not to mention swollen all because of you.

his dick twitches—a prominent vein striking near the left side as you steadily moved your dripping pussy against it in slow, ravishing rocks. “lie back,” you whispered, playfully pushing him back against the seat.

satoru reclines back with a ‘hmph’ and he raises a silvery brow at your audacity. “lie back ‘n let your fiancé ride you again.”

“heh.. yes, mrs. gojo.”

#★vegasbaby.#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #female reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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wandaslovey · 1 month ago

Text

ᴍʀꜱ. ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏꜰꜰ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴡ

➺ dom!wandanat x sub!fem!reader

word count ~ 7k

authors note: i’m so excited to share this with you guys - this was so much fun to write! i’m planning on writing the first few parts as chapters where one will pick up right after the other and then once i get to a certain point i’ll do random time skips within the same au. oh also! i’m starting a tag list, so comment below if you’d like to be included on the next chapter! enjoy loves! 💕 as usual, this is not proofread.

content warning(s): legal age gap (w=30, n=33, r=23), natasha and wanda being two hot intimidating lawyers (except natasha kinda steals this show in this part, especially in the beginning. don’t worry though, wanda will have her time to shine!), conversation about kinkery and reader knows very little

if you’d like to read the drabble that inspired this series, click here

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you stand in front of the mirror, adjusting your white button-up blouse for the 10th time. you huff, frustrated that your wardrobe just wouldn’t cooperate with you this morning. as you look yourself over in the mirror—the rest of your outfit consisting of a mid-thigh black pencil skirt, some black nylons and black combat boots—you couldn’t help but wonder if your attire was okay for the interview.

the interview…you can’t believe you landed an interview at thee M.R. law firm. you knew how unqualified you were for the position, so you felt extra pressure to compensate somehow with your appearance.

you turn to the side in the mirror, first left and then right, scrutinizing yourself at every angle. you readjust the pieces of hair framing your face that you pulled out of your bun, before deciding you’d done all you could to look your best.

you glance at the clock on your nightstand in the reflection of the mirror, seeing it was time to go. you grab your knock-off brand purse and slip out of your apartment. when you walk down the stairs and open the door to the outside, the noise from the city fills your ears. the sounds of cars, horns, sirens, music and people all blended together, creating a sort of hum all new-yorkers were familiar with. you step out onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding some tourists that were taking a picture in front of the trendy restaurant you lived by. you hail a cab, quickly sliding into the backseat and telling the driver your destination.

now that you were settled in your seat with only the taxi drivers quiet music to distract you, the nerves you’d been attempting to snub out suddenly hit you full force. there was no way you could do this. you were sure you were just wasting your own time and the poor person who had to interview you. you knew your 6 months working as a receptionist at a dentist office nowhere near qualified you to manage things at M.R. law. you mentally curse yourself, thinking you must’ve been half asleep and entirely too desperate when you sent in your application at this place. you needed a job though—urgently. with your roommate moving back home, and no one else taking her place, you were stuck with paying the rent on your own. on top of that, you were still paying back loans for school. you knew you should cut your losses, leave new york and transfer to a much more affordable school, but you really wanted to stay as much as you could help it.

every stoplight you hit along the 20 minute drive only makes you more nervous. the fluttery feeling in your stomach turns into full blown pterodactyls by the time the driver has pulled up to the very tall M.R. building. you pass some folded up cash to the driver, mumbling out a quiet ‘thank you,’ and then step out of the car. you stare up at the intimidating building, the lettering of “maximoff-romanoff law” taunting you—daring you to step inside. you let out a stubborn exhale, squaring your shoulders and walking in with a confidence as fake as grape flavored candy.

you stride over to the front desk, noticing that the only employees in sight are all women.

“hi, i’m here for an 11 o’clock interview,” you tell one of the women behind the desk. she offers you a polite smile, giving you instructions to head into the elevator and up to the 8th floor. you nod your head, thanking her and make your way to your doomsday interview.

as the elevator doors shut behind you, you find yourself all alone in the small space. there was no background music to distract you now. you stare at the floor, noticing a slight glint to the black tiles you were standing on. you listen to the beeps counting up each floor, your eyes dragging up the stainless steel panel when the number reads 8 and the final beep sounds. the doors open and you’re immediately greeted with the sight of more women pacing around the place. some seemed to be in a rush while others were leisurely walking across the floor while chatting with a co-worker. you walk over to the front desk again, repeating what you had told the other kind lady downstairs. she gestures for you to take a seat on the couch in the waiting area, letting you know someone will grab you in a few minutes.

you take a seat on the black leather couch, figuring this piece of furniture probably costed more than the rent for your apartment. you cross your legs, interlocking your fingers together at your knee. you glance around the office, taking in the decor. it was very tasteful, some touches of greenery that went nicely with the black and dark woodsy vibe this floor was going for. you try your best to ignore the bile rising in your throat and the pterodactyls still swarming in your stomach. it was a good thing you didn’t eat breakfast this morning.

as two minutes turns into ten, and then fifteen, you can’t help but feel the urge to just get up and leave. you felt so out of place here; you couldn’t imagine working at this place with all these women who were so obviously out of your league.

just as you were settling on the idea of ditching this interview, you hear clacking footsteps making their way over to you. you didn’t dare look up yet, pretending to be very interested in the tiny hole in your pantyhose just above your knee.

“miss (y/l/n)?” the most heavenly, sultry voice calls out to you. your eyes slowly trail along the tile, up the woman’s legs covered in black slacks, her blouse and matching black suit jacket, and then finally her face. it was her.

thee mrs. romanoff.

mrs. romanoff was the person who was going to interview you? you couldn’t believe your eyes, or the situation. you clear your throat, realizing you had yet to acknowledge her calling out to you.

“yeah, that’s me,” you reply, standing on slightly wobbly legs. you watch as mrs. romanoff’s eyes slowly take in your appearance, her eyes lingering on your frame. you feel a little scrutinized, wondering if you really did mess up with what you were wearing.

“follow me.” she turns and leads the way. you stumble a bit as you follow behind her, not expecting her to have as long of a stride as she does.

“you’ll have to forgive me for the wait—we had a couple meetings run over this morning,” she talks to you over her shoulder, slowing her walk a little when she notices you’re not directly behind her like she thought.

“oh, no worries. i didn’t mind the wait.” that was technically a lie, but it wasn’t the wait that bothered you as much as the fact that you were left alone with your thoughts a little too long.

she rounds a corner at the end of the hall, pausing and gesturing for you to enter in one of the two doors that were side by side on the wall to the right. you walk through the doorframe, stepping into what you assumed was her personal office.

“have a seat, miss (y/l/n),” she says in a low voice, walking from behind you and around her desk to sit in her chair. you sit in one of the two chairs across from her, your heart thudding violently in your chest from being in such close proximity to her.

you adjust your seating position three times before finally settling in place, forcing yourself to sit still. mrs. romanoff humors you, remaining silent and patient through your nervous fidgeting.

“so, i have to say i was a little surprised to see your application come through to my desk,” she starts and you immediately feel your cheeks grow hot, the feeling of being in a place you don’t belong filling your whole body with dread.

she pauses, and you realize she was waiting for you to respond. right. this was supposed to be where you attempt to prove yourself adequate to work in this position.

“yes, um… well, admittedly i myself did think it was a stretch to apply here, but then i figured, i’m a fast learner, i’m very thorough in all i do and i enjoy learning new things. i thought i’d try my hand at something i haven’t done before.” you rattle off an answer that while it was true, it was also something you rehearsed 20 times in the mirror while getting ready before you got here. you were almost positive the slight robotic edge in your voice was noticeable.

mrs. romanoff hums in acknowledgment, nodding slightly at your rehearsed answer. “how well can you handle multi-tasking in a fast paced environment?” her lack of acknowledging your first answer puts a damper on your already fake confidence. you shift in your seat again, finding it harder to maintain eye contact with the sea of green that was her eyes.

“i would say i fare pretty well. i’m usually very good at managing stressful situations.” that was a complete lie—but most people bullshit their way through interviews, don’t they?

“usually?” she echoes, tilting her head to the side. she purses her lips, half attempting to hide a small smirk. she easily picked up on all your nervous antics the moment she saw you. you averting her gaze, walking unsteadily, fidgeting in your seat and the cute rose-y blush currently coloring your cheeks.

you clear your throat, interlocking your hands together in your lap. you notice they’ve already started to feel damp with sweat. “yeah, yeah most of the time i’d say so.”

“well, miss…” she glances down at what appeared to be your application and resume sitting in front of her on the desk. “(y/n)..you don’t sound very sure of yourself.” she sits upright in her chair, crossing her arms and leaning over the desk. your heart beats impossibly faster, the feeling of intimidation settling deep into your bones.

“no, i mean, i am sure—totally 100%.” you try to laugh, but it comes out sounding as nervous as you feel.

“okay, if that’s how you’d like to proceed…” she trails off, looking down at the papers in front of her again. you didn’t know what she meant, but your eyes fall desperately to the same papers she was looking at, as if they could provide some sort of answer to you. “what are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?”

you internally breath a sigh of relief. this was another answer you’d rehearsed in the mirror, it just needed to sound less robotic this time. “i’d say my greatest strengths are, i’m very punctual—i’m always on time if not early—um, i do all things thoroughly, as i mentioned before…i’m very reliable—hardly sick or need time off for family things, and i enjoy a good challenge. my greatest weakness is that i like to be very organized and sometimes i can spend a little too much time completing a certain project before moving onto the next.” you exhale after you finish talking, your eyes flicking across her face to try and get a sense of how she’s taking in your answer.

as you speak, you can’t help but notice that she was watching you so meticulously. it seemed that she was taking in not only your words, but your facial expressions, hand gestures and body language.

she looks at you for a moment as if she’s thinking hard on something. without taking her eyes off of you, she presses a button on her desk, the small ding from an intercom sounding. “joan, please track down mrs. maximoff and have her come into my office right away.”

your heartbeat now thrums loudly in your ears, your breath picking up its pace. you were not only going to be in the presence of mrs. romanoff but now mrs. maximoff too? never in your life had you seen such a powerful couple—and that was only in photos and billboards you’d seen around the city!

“is everything okay?” you ask nervously, feeling the permanent blush on your cheeks travel to the tips of your ears.

“everything’s fine, (y/n),” she gives you a smile but it was anything but reassuring. in fact, there was something about the expression that felt more intimidating with how devastatingly beautiful she was.

she grabs a pen and starts writing something on the paper. whatever it was was brief, but you couldn’t see clearly from your seat.

a quiet knock comes from the door and your posture becomes rigid as you hear who you assume to be mrs. maximoff entering the room.

“you called for me?” mrs. maximoff asks as she walks the length from the door to mrs. romanoff’s side. she walks around your chair and stands next to her wife, placing her palm flat against the desktop and leaning some of her weight on it.

“yes, i wanted you to meet our new interviewee,” she smiles with her lips and gestures to you in your seat. you look between the two beautiful, impeccably dressed women, feeling extremely small and insignificant. mrs. maximoff turns to look at you for the first time, a warm smile gracing her features.

“hi,” she offers simply, extending her hand to shake yours. you sit forward, reaching your arm out to shake her hand across the desk. her hand was incredibly soft and a little cold to the touch, but you wouldn’t expect anything less since the office was kept at such a cool temperature.

“mrs. maximoff is going to sit in on the rest of our interview. is that okay with you?” mrs. romanoff asks, her eyes daring you to object.

you quickly shake your head from side to side, shifting once again in your chair. “no, no that’s perfectly fine,” you reply easily, though you were feeling anything but fine. you notice mrs. maximoff giving her wife a curious glance but she doesn’t otherwise question it.

“let’s move over to the couches so we’re a little more comfortable,” mrs. romanoff stands up and heads over to the long olive green velvet sofa. you follow suit, except you take a seat in the smaller sofa, designed for only one person. mrs. maximoff sits closest to you on the long couch, brushing some of her pretty brown hair behind her shoulder. you watch as she glances back at her wife, mrs. romanoff giving her a certain look that you weren’t sure what it meant.

“so, (y/n), tells us what your career goals are,” mrs. romanoff proceeds with the interview as if the interruption never happened. you find yourself even more nervous to respond now that there were two, hot, older women sitting before you.

“umm…for now i really just need something steady that will simultaneously be giving me good work and life experience.. long term though, i’d like to become a therapist once i finish my masters program.” you bite your tongue once you finish your sentence, realizing this is not the sort of job where you tell your interviewers you’d like to pursue something that has nothing to do with their company.

“what appeals to you about becoming a therapist?” mrs. maximoff chimes in, tilting her head to the side curiously, just like mrs. romanoff had done earlier in the interview.

you lean back in your chair, a little surprised at her interest in your reply. “well, it’s a cliche answer, but i’m very passionate about helping people. it’s impossible to go through this life without getting seriously hurt and dealing with trauma. the vast majority of us have no idea how to cope or process through our experiences, so just knowing what i know, i’d like to try and be of some help for those who need it.”

the two lawyers look at you thoughtfully, mrs. maximoff nodding her head as you speak.

“that’s a very admirable passion. are you currently enrolled in a masters program?” she asks, crossing one of her legs over the other as she gets more comfortable in her seat.

“i am,” you reply with a shy smile. you never wanted to come across as bragging about your education, so you always sought to speak about it in the most humble way.

“you like school?” mrs. romanoff chimes in, leaning forward as she speaks.

your smile turns a bit rueful as you reply. “yes..i do. i know so many young people my age loathe school and all the hard work that needs to be put in, but…i love everything about it. i love taking notes, making flashcards, studying, taking tests, everything about it, i just love. i know it sounds a little crazy.” you laugh once, suddenly feeling more relaxed as you speak about something so genuinely. you feel a little more surprise again as you hear mrs. romanoff chuckle with you, nodding her head towards her brunette wife.

“sounds like somebody i know. this one here was a school addict. i had to practically pry textbooks out her hands just so we could do anything other than study,” she chuckles again, mrs. maximoff joining in with her.

“i won’t apologize for being so pointed about my studies. we both got straight A’s, didn’t we?” she jokes light-heartedly and you find yourself smiling warmly at their light banter.

mrs. maximoff turns back to face you, a smile still touching her lips. “what else do you do aside from school?” her question makes your face fall slightly as you now had to admit you were technically unemployed. you knew that didn’t look good for potential employers.

“right now, not a whole lot. just keeping busy with my studies,” you respond vaguely to which they both hum in response.

the pair of them continue asking you questions, except they become progressively more personal until they don’t attain to work or working at this position at all.

“do you like living alone? or do you prefer living with others?” was one of the questions mrs. romanoff asks you after you had explained you were currently without a roommate.

even though it was strange, you find that the more you talk about yourself, the more relaxed you feel. mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff both noticed it too. they could see more of your personality showing through as the nerves slowly but surely dissipated.

it had been near 40 minutes by the time mrs. romanoff checked her watch and noticed the time. she looked at her wife, mrs. maximoff seeming to sense her eyes on her as she automatically looked to the side. they shared a look, one of them nodding to the other before turning back to face you.

“well, we’ve kept you here much longer than was intended—i apologize for that.” mrs. romanoff says as she stands, mrs. maximoff following suit. you stand also, smoothing your skirt back over your legs. as you stand so closely to them now, you notice how they were both taller than you by a few inches, making you feel small again like you had earlier.

“it’s no big deal. i’m in no rush,” you smile shyly as you look up at the two of them. you extend your arm out, shaking both of their hands before getting ready to leave. they both give your hand a gentle squeeze and when mrs. romanoff shakes your hand, she grasps on longer than her wife, holding your gaze with a certain intensity.

“we’ll be in touch, miss (y/n),” she says smoothly, calling you out by your first name, and for some reason the combination between her voice and her eye contact made your knees feel weak.

you swallow thickly, nodding your head and thanking them both for the interview before turning away. mrs. maximoff leads you to the door to exit and walks you all the way out to the elevators. you pace the short distance in somewhat comfortable silence. when you turn to face her to say your final goodbye, your surprised to see mrs. romanoff behind her. she was following so quietly that you didn’t notice her presence.

“bye! thank you again,” you smile, stepping into the elevator once the doors open. the two women stand side by side of each other, giving you a near identical smile which portrayed some sort of knowing behind it, almost like they were expecting something.

“it was a pleasure meeting you miss (y/l/n),” mrs. maximoff calls out to you as the elevator doors slide closed.

you exhale a breath you didn’t now you were holding, slumping back against the elevator walls.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

that evening, you cook up a box of mac n cheese, too lazy to try and find the ingredients to make anything else. not to mention, your mind was still a little bit jumbled after your interview with thee lesbian power couple.

mrs. romanoff’s words kept echoing in your head.

”we’ll be in touch” she’d said. but didn’t your interview totally blow? especially at the end. it wasn’t so much an interview but rather more like a conversation where people try to get to know each other better. maybe they were looking for a personality hire? you really doubted that though.

you eat your mac n cheese while staring blankly at the wall, thinking over the whole exchange with mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff. as you mindlessly feed yourself spoonfuls of your dinner, you realize you didn’t even know their first names. you remembered you had once seen them on a billboard somewhere but didn’t remember exactly what they were. mrs. romanoff’s first name was natalie or something similar? you were at a loss with mrs. maximoff. you decide to google them to put your curiosities to rest.

pulling out your phone, you google their names and the law firm. after doing just a little bit of digging, you see their full names: natasha romanoff and wanda maximoff. ah, so you were close with mrs. romanoff’s name. you wonder if they only go by their last names at the office. it definitely seemed like their vibe to have things be so professional.

as you go throughout the rest of your evening, showering and getting ready for bed, you continue thinking about them. the longer your mind lingers on them, the less “professionally” you think about them. you couldn’t help but notice how utterly beautiful they both were. they both carried themselves with a confidence that anyone would find intimidating. there was something so forceful about their presences, but not necessarily in a bad way. it seemed like natasha—mrs.romanoff—was a little more rough around the edges, but you could see she easily held a soft spot for her wife and life partner. mrs. maximoff gave off a much more approachable vibe, but she was still intimidating in her own way.

as your mind continues wandering, you find yourself becoming more tired before you finally drift off to sleep, your brain fatigued from all your analytical thinking.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

the first thing you notice when you wake up is the light shining through your thin curtains. you blink a few times, slowly adjusting to the light. you blindly reach over to your nightstand, unplugging your phone from the charger. as you unlock your phone, you notice a missed call from an unknown number nearly two hours ago. you shoot up into a sitting position in your bed, suddenly feeling much more awake. it was just passed 10 am. was the unknown number a call back about your interview?

your fingers furiously swipe on your phone, quickly googling the number for M.R. law. you breath a sigh of relief when you cross reference the digits in your phone and the number online, realizing it was just a random unknown caller. you let your body fall back limply on the bed, your leg dangling off the side as you clutch your phone to your chest. that would’ve been humiliating if they called offering you the job and you didn’t pick up the phone.

as you go about your morning leisurely—not having any classes this day—you try to push the two hot lawyers out of your mind. there was no point in dwelling on them if you’d never hear from them again.

you leave your face bare of makeup, not intending on leaving the apartment and you opt for wearing comfy clothes—or “frumpy” clothes as you called them—instead of something nice.

you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a bowl of frosted flakes cereal. you let it sit there for a few minutes to soak up the milk, as soggy cereal was your favorite. you’d argue with anyone who claimed crunchy cereal was best. as you wait, you power up your laptop, intent on working on some homework.

you’re munching on your cereal, blue-light filtered glasses adorning your nose as you work on your computer screen. you were mid-bite when you hear your phone buzzing on the counter next to you. you glance down at your phone and frown slightly when you notice it looks to be the same unknown number from earlier.

you continue chewing your bite, raising the phone to your ear as you accept the call.

“hello?” you ask, your voice mumbled a bit as you still had some food in your mouth.

“good morning, miss (y/n),” you hear a warm, velvety voice greet you. after almost an hour interview with her yesterday, you’d recognize this distinct voice anywhere.

“mrs. romanoff?” you just about choke on your food as you swallow, your body tensing slightly as you feel much more alert.

“that would be correct.” you hear her chuckle softly into the phone, your tone laced with obvious surprise she must have found endearing.

“i’m so sorry! i think i missed your call earlier? i didn’t recognize the number- i had no idea it was you, i’m sorry!” you apologize quickly, thinking that if she was actually calling to offer you the job, you might have just ruined it.

“don’t worry about it. i would be surprised if you recognized it given that this is my personal number,” her voice was low and warm. it was entirely too enticing.

“oh.. umm, right. well, good morning,” you stumble slightly over your words, unsure what else to say to her.

“are you normally a late riser?” she asks with humor in her voice.

“what? oh no, not normally no. i just don’t have classes today,” you explain, a little embarrassed at her having called you out on your sleeping habits.

“i see. well, we just wanted to call and ask if you’d meet us for a coffee,” her question came out as more of a statement and you were left wondering why on earth she would want to go out for coffee with you and…wait.. did she say we?

“we?” the words echo aloud from your mind.

“yes. my wife and i,” she reiterates calmly. you look around your small excuse for a kitchen as if the reasoning behind her posing this question was written on the walls.

“like today?” you ask stupidly. of course she meant today.

“yes - today. can you meet us in 15? we’re going on lunch break. i’ll text you the address.” your eyes zip to the digital numbers plastered on the microwave. you only had 15 minutes to try and look presentable, get a cab and meet them.

“ummm..yeah. yeah sure,” you nod your head as if she could see you through the phone. you quickly hop off the stool you were sitting on, walking briskly to the bathroom with the phone still held firmly to your ear.

“perfect. we’ll see you soon.” she hangs up and you all but toss your phone on the bathroom counter, staring down at the device as if it’s offended you. you quickly snap out of it, only having 5 or so minutes to un-hobo yourself. you quickly apply some concealer on your dark spots, powder on a little blush and brush on a coat of mascara in record time. in your haste, you stumble from the bathroom to your closet, trying to find something to quickly throw on. you grab a simple white baby tee, putting it on and then aggressively stepping into some loose light wash jeans. grabbing your belongings, you half jog out the door, nearly slipping down the last two stairs of your apartment.

you quickly get a cab, thanking whatever higher power there is in your head that there was very little delay in one driving by. as the taxi driver takes you to the address you gave him, you sit forward in your seat, gathering your hair in a pony tail near the top of your head. you secure it with an elastic you always keep around your wrist and pull some pieces out to frame your face. you glance in the cab rear view mirror, seeing you looked fairly presentable. you exhale shakily, sitting back in your seat as the same nerves you felt yesterday on the way to your interview were coming back now.

what was this about? i mean, you knew it wasn’t normal to meet with potential employees for coffee. it was especially suspicious because it was mrs. romanoff *and* her wife.

your thoughts are interrupted as the taxi slows to a crawl and he pulls up to the coffee shop. you’d never been to this one before, granted there were hundreds of shops all over the city so there were probably many you hadn’t gone to. your heart leaps in your chest as you see both mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff waiting outside for you.

you pass the driver the money, thank him and slip out of the car. as you step onto the sidewalk, mrs. maximoff greets you with the same warm smile she’d given you when you first met. mrs. romanoff smiles too, though it’s not as wide as her wife’s.

“hello again, (y/n).” your heart skips a beat as you hear mrs. maximoff use your first name for the first time. mrs. romanoff had been calling you by your first name since you’d stepped foot into her office. you liked the way your name fell from both of their tongues.

“hi, good to see you both again,” you smile despite your nerves, making eye contact with both of them in a polite manner.

“shall we?” mrs. romanoff suggests as she opens the door for you, her wife placing a gentle hand on the small of your back to usher you inside. you inhale shakily, the unexpected contact surprising you in a pleasant way.

as the three of you file in behind the small line of people waiting to order, your eyes skim the menu, even though you already knew exactly what you wanted.

“cute outfit,” mrs. romanoff murmurs from behind you. you could hear what sounded to be amusement in her tone but you weren’t sure.

you turn to the side to face her, her being on your left and mrs. maximoff on your right just a half-step behind you. “thank you. i threw it on—literally. i was wearing something a lot less presentable when you first called.” you glance down at both of their outfits. the duality between yours and their outfits was almost laughable. they looked impeccably fashionable and you were just in street clothes.

wanda chuckles lightly at your comment. “what were you wearing before?” she asks.

“just an oversized tee and some biker shorts,” you shrug, crossing your arms casually over your chest. you always felt more comfortable when you had your arms wrapped around yourself.

as the line moves and you’re next, mrs. romanoff quickly stands in front of you, her body moving between you and the counter. “what’ll you have?” she gives you an expectant look, ready to give your order.

“an iced mocha?” you ask a little shyly, her show of putting herself between you and the cash register did something to you for some reason.

she nods, and turns to the barista, repeating your order along with hers and her wife’s. you’re about to protest, wanting to tell her she doesn’t have to pay for you, but you feel mrs. maximoff’s hand return to the small of your back, swiftly maneuvering you away from the line and over to the small cluster of tables.

you sit down in a chair she pulled out for you and you scoot yourself in as mrs. maximoff settles in her own seat across from you.

“you really don’t have to pay for me, you know,” you pipe gently, glancing over at mrs. romanoff who was standing at the counter waiting for the drinks before you turn back to mrs. maximoff.

“of course not, we want to. plus, neither her nor i would ever allow you to pay for yourself even if you insisted,” she smiles winsomely, her eyes gleaming with something warm and bright.

mrs. romanoff returns with all three coffees, somehow handling all three and setting them down in a graceful manner.

“thank you,” you give mrs. romanoff a gentle smile as your fingers interlock around the cup and you drag it closer to you.

they both take a sip from their coffees—which were both hot—before mrs. romanoff clears her throat, her eyes narrowing in on you as she leans forward on the table.

“so, i imagine you’re wondering why we asked you here.” she throws a glance at her wife who was already looking at her speak.

“it may have been on my mind…” you trail off, sounding as innocent as possible.

mrs. romanoff smiles knowingly, her eyes appraising you in a way that made you squirm slightly in your seat.

“it’s not about the job, as i’m sure you might have figured, but rather about offering a different type of position,” she begins. your brow furrows in confusion. what did she mean?

“a different position? like a cleaning job or something?” you immediately go to thinking about jobs that require little to no experience, figuring that might be all they’d have to offer given your background.

they both laugh at your guess, mrs. romanoff being the one to shake her head no.

“no, not a cleaning job,” she pauses, seeming to measure your expression before continuing. “(y/n), have you ever heard the term bdsm?”

your face goes blank and you look from mrs. romanoff to her wife who appeared to be watching you just as carefully.

“um…i think so? i’ve heard the term a few times before.” your legs feel like they’ve turned to jelly, an unfamiliar pit settling into your lower tummy at the abrupt shift in the topic of conversation.

“what do you know about it?” mrs. maximoff chimes in, tilting her head to the side which causes some of her neatly curled hair to fall forward.

you look between the two of them, unconsciously shrinking further down into your seat. this was such a taboo subject to talk about it public; you found yourself already growing warm from just the thought of this discussion.

“well, it’s..sex stuff…right? like being tied down and whipped?” you speak hesitantly in a small voice, throwing quick glances at the strangers littered across the coffee shop.

“those things can be a part of it, yes—if all parties discuss that’s something they like to participate in” mrs. romanoff explains and then continues. “what else have you heard about it? or is that the gist of what you know?”

you shrug, your shoulders slumped forward and your head bowed slightly to try and obscure your flushed cheeks. you suck your bottom lip into your mouth—your nervous habit.

mrs. maximoff pipes in again after noticing your bashfulness. “a lot of people have that imagery in mind when they hear the term ‘bdsm,’ so it’s understandable that that’s your impression. there is so much more to it though. really, bdsm is about exploring people’s sexual interests in a safe space. you learn about your limits, what you like, what you didn’t expect to like, and so much more.” you listen to her explanation intently, your mind immediately wandering and wondering where this conversation was going to go.

mrs. romanoff picks up off her wife’s words. “some people simply dabble in certain aspects of bdsm while others treat it more as a lifestyle—and for my wife and i, it is a lifestyle.”

you nod hesitantly as they both pause for a second, watching you digest this information. you’re unsure how to respond, feeling progressively more restless in your seat.

they both give each other a look before mrs romanoff nods and mrs. maximoff speaks.

“normally, for people who live this lifestyle, they draw up contracts between themselves and the person they want as their submissive.. now we know this is all very forward, but there’s just no other way to put it. we’d like to have you as our new submissive.”

your face turns bright red for reasons you’re not fully aware of. you weren’t quite sure what being a “submissive” all entailed, but you couldn’t wipe the imagery of being helplessly tied down and whipped from your mind. you’re silent as your brain flits through one imaginary scenario to the next. you were so clueless though, you weren’t sure if the things you were thinking up were things people actually did or if they were just shown in porn.

“me…? i just..well it’s just that..i’m-i don’t know if i would be your ideal candidate,” you stumble out, your eyes glued to the table as you avoid looking at either of them at all costs.

“on the contrary, (y/n), i singled you out almost immediately at our interview. i knew i wanted you. that’s why i had wanda join us.” her face softens as she notices your slight uneasiness. being a bit of a sadist though, she couldn’t help but find your innocence and embarrassment so incredibly gratifying. it only made her want you more.

your teeth worry into your bottom lip again as you look between one set of green eyes and then the other. “do you guys normally.. share, uhm..submissives?”

“not always, but we do like to when it’s possible,” wanda shares, a reassuring smile on her face. you purse your lips, chewing on the inside of your cheek as more questions arise in your head.

“how does that work? sharing i mean.” you knew there were people who participated in polyamorous relationships, and you had no issue with it, you just had trouble visualizing the dynamic.

natasha grins wickedly to herself, realizing now how truly innocent and unknowing you were. she suspected a little yesterday at the interview, but had no idea the true scope of your innocence. wanda also found herself undeniably more attracted to you after this conversation. her hands twitch in her lap, thinking of all the things she could do to you that you probably haven’t ever dreamed of.

“it works (y/n), trust me…” mrs. romanoff says seductively.

“we know this is all very foreign to you, sweetheart. you don’t have to say yes today, just think about it?” mrs. maximoff reaches across the table and affectionately holds onto your wrist. your stomach does a little flip-flop at the term of endearment paired with the affection.

there were so many thoughts and feelings swirling around you, but one thing stuck out above the rest. you wanted to learn more. you didn’t want to say no and close a door on something that you might enjoy.

“i want to.. i mean, um, i will think about it,” you clear your throat for the umpteenth time that day, pulling your hand back from mrs. maximoff’s light grasp. it was suddenly feeling like her hand was searing your skin.

“you want to what?” mrs. romanoff presses, her eyes looking at you with intensity again.

“i just meant that i want to learn more..about this,” you reply quietly, peeking at mrs. romanoff through your lashes. you notice her clench her jaw and flex her fingers that were resting on the table, but you weren’t sure what it meant.

“well, there’s a lot to learn, but luckily i’d say we’re both pretty good teachers,” mrs. maximoff grins more wickedly this time, her expression giving you a new glimpse into something you hadn’t seen in her until this point.

“why don’t we meet up again sometime this weekend? we can answer any questions you have—help you learn more about what we’re asking from you,” she adds, to which you surprisingly feel eager to agree to the idea. you find yourself already wanting to learn more, especially if the people who were going to educate you were two of the hottest women alive.

“yeah…let’s do that,” you nod once, your blush slowly creeping off your cheeks though a slight honey glow was still present.

you all begin to gather your things, mrs. maximoff noticing their lunch break was just about up. the three of you hardly touched your coffees, the conversation too intense to take swigs of the drinks.

the two of them walk you out of the shop, mrs. romanoff hailing down a cab for you. you turn to say goodbye to mrs. maximoff and find that she’s standing closer to you than expected.

“i look forward to seeing you again so soon, dragotsennaya veshch’,” she murmurs, reaching to give your arm an affectionate squeeze. you smile at her, unsure what she said but not caring much to know now.

you step closer to the cab after mrs. romanoff opens the door for you. before you can slip inside the car, mrs. romanoff leans down, murmuring in your ear.

“if you have any questions before the weekend that simply can’t wait, don’t hesitate to text me. you have my number.” her voice was a little rough which makes you shiver.

you nod slowly, sucking on your bottom lip again. you give mrs. maximoff a shy hand wave which she mimics with an amused grin. you sink down into the car seat, mrs. romanoff shutting the door behind you.

as the taxi drives away, you can’t help but look behind you as the two women grow smaller and smaller on the sidewalk. as the car turns a corner, the couple remain standing there until you disappear. you sigh and turn back around in your seat, resting heavily against the cushion behind you.

what just happened?

——————————

tag list:

@poppyshuman @wandamaximoffsbadgirl @xenaizogie @ashadash0904 @kittnii @hayeeonn @gh0sstss @beggingonmykneesforher @natashalover3000 @msvenablesbitch @ihartnat @leesromanova @alwaysgoodnight @lowlifejuliett @azaleavolkova @caramelcat123 @daretodream1307-blog @ctrlaltedits @sweetmissnothing @gecko1 @karmasgxrl @marvelwomenarehot0 @elle161989 @waaayoutofline @snazzysprig @simpforlizzie @just4natasha

#venturing is inevitable: series #vii #wandanat #wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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fairyofshampgyu · 1 year ago

Text

Super shy !

genre: smut, baker au, college au, crack

Pairing: shy loser virgin bakery worker ! soobin x college customer ! reader

Warnings: sub soobin, dom reader, clubbing, alcohol, loss of virginity, riding, hand job, titty groping (can’t be a Soobin smut without him being obsessed with boobies be fr), premature ejaculation,

word count: 2.9k

As soon as you stepped into the newly established campus bakery, walking up to the counter and observing all the pastries, contemplating for a rather long time before you end up deciding on what you’d usually order anyway, Soobin couldn’t help feeling like his world got totally turned upside down. The sight of you rendering him completely speechless and unable to even think.

Time seemingly going by so slow like in the kdramas as your shiny hair majestically blows in the non existent wind inside, smile brightening up the entire bakery. He could practically see the roses blooming around your face like in the mangas. Was this love at first sight?!

Realistically, no.

But were you incredibly attractive to him and a breath of fresh air to the moody, stressed out college students that purchase a single coffee and stay for hours completing assignments with their backs concerningly hunched over? Hell yes.

And unfortunately for Soobin, he does not do well with pretty people. At all. Not realising you had even ordered, too in awe and preoccupied with taking in all your features until he’s snapped back to reality with the clearing of your throat and he can already feel his cheeks burning up horribly fast. Oh god. He really, really hopes it’s not evident right now.

“S-sorry…What did you say?” He begins apologising profusely to you, too embarrassed to even look you in the eyes, staring off more to the side. This was definitely not his best customer service.

With a chuckle, you brush it off and state your order again, “I said could I have the strawberry swirl cheesecake please?” If Soobin could look at himself in third person, he would so be face palming right now. Or better yet, maybe he could just go up and like, punch himself straight up or something for acting like such a loser.

“Ah right... That’s ₩7500. Cash or card?”

You pay with cash and Soobin, very nervously, fumbles around to garner the right amount of change to hand you, though doing it in the most awkward way possible and his palm makes direct contact with yours as he hands the money, making him blush even more and let out a small obvious gasp at the feeling of your soft hand. Oh my god. Why did he do that?! He really hopes you didn’t find that weird.

You only let out another chuckle, thanking him before you’re leaving the bakery in an elegant manner and Soobin is left to sigh and watch your back disappear. Damn it. He’ll probably never see you again. You were so pretty and so cute, too cute even-

“You’re such a virgin.”

His thoughts about you are abruptly dissipated by his coworker and unfortunately best friend, Choi Beomgyu who gives him the stupidest, most annoying grin he would definitely like to slap off his face right now.

“Just shut up.” Soobin grimaces and rolls his eyes at beomgyu, bringing a batch of freshly baked cookies out of the oven behind him and placing them into the display glass one by one.

"You’re pinker than the strawberry macarons we sell. That's saying something." Beomgyu raises an eyebrow at him with sass.

So does that mean you could see how flustered he was getting then? Oh no! Soobin clears his throat and narrows his eyes at beomgyu anyway. “Am not.”

“Are too! Anyway, all I’m saying is that interaction was painful to watch. You’re really giving pathetic, loser, virgin right now. I cant lie.” Beomgyu attempts to stifle in one of his obnoxious laughs.

Soobin is quick to snap back, "You've only ever slept with one person!"

"S-so!! At least im not a virgin!" Beomgyu’s cheeks also become the equivalent to the strawberry macarons as he scrambles to try and defend himself, brows furrowed and cheeks puffed.

“Well, the concept of a virgin is purely societal anyway. It doesn’t actually matter. It doesn’t mean anything really.” Soobin bitterly replies, continuing to work whilst his counterpart does completely nothing like most of the time. It's usually soobin that does work, remind him not to agree to beomyu's silly ideas of getting a job together ever again.

Beomgyu scoffs and snickers at this, "Whatever. You’re just saying all that to make yourself feel better because you’re a loser. LMAO"

"I’ll punch you right now."

"Then we'll both be fired~”

A poor customer still awaits at the counter to be served, standing in bewilderment and tiredness. Waiting for the two bakers to finish bickering and sighing as they don’t seem like they’re going to stop anytime soon.

Soobin doesn’t expect to see you again, in complete honesty, he’s almost forgotten you even exist after you never come again. But he’s in luck and more than pleasantly surprised when he hears the bell to the door go ding!, indicating a customer had walked in. He looks up from the cake he was decorating and in comes you looking cuter than the first time he saw you. He tries not to mess up the cake and he stands up straight almost instantly when he sees you, waiting for you to order and trying to remain calm.

You laugh and point at his cute nose when you come up to the counter. “You have like, icing all on your nose.”

“O-oh. I do?” He points at himself and you nod in reply. He feels himself going redder by the minute. He must look so stupid right now! And he urgently brings his sleeve up and tries to wipe the icing off his nose to not make himself look an even more of a complete fool in front of you .

“Ah wait no. Let me do it!” You lean over the counter as you see him struggling and wipe it off the top of his cute bunny like nose instead for him.

And that was the end of soobin. The end.

You become a regular at the bakery and soobin becomes a regular of embarrassing the absolute shit out of himself each time he sees you. He really doesn’t think he can top the previous comedic disaster that occurs when you enter, yet he always proves himself wrong, the awkwardness reaching new heights each time. From dropping trays of pastries, spilling drinks, nearly slipping in front of you, giving you a ₩50000 note when it was only ₩5000 change, the list goes on and on. He’s actually surprised he hasn’t lost his job yet.

And there’s also always a disappointed beomgyu shaking his head afterwards ready to make fun of him when Soobin promises to make a move but freezes every time you’re in sight, too much of a pussy.

“I’m calling an intervention.” Beomgyu declares and sighs after the nth time of soobin making absolutely no moves on you whatsoever, “Soobin, my man, my bro, you desperately need to get banged. It’s painful seeing the way you act. Your little crush is not gonna like you with the way you act. That’s it. We’re going clubbing tonight after this shift. No buts.”

“But-”

“I said no buts!”

“You know I hate clubbing.”

“You’ve never even been with me despite my constant pleads.” Beomgyu shakes his head and makes a dramatic pained face at his way.

“So? I know I’ll hate it.”

“You’re such a hater bro.”

“Yes I am. And I take pride in it. I’m a hater of everything.”

Beomgyu just sighs. He was utterly hopeless.

Unfortunately, there was no way Soobin could get out of this because beomgyu was having absolutely none of his protests and excuses and that’s how he ends up finding himself at the club anyway after his shift, sitting off to the side as he watches beomgyu disappear somewhere into the crowd. Soobin sighs as he downs his jack and coke. This was going to be a long fucking night.

In the dimly lit club, soobin’s discomfort was palpable, like a fish out of water and you noticed instantly upon arrival. It’s that cute tall baker boy who always serves you! You excitedly make your way and sit next to him, he looked a little lonely. “Hey! You work at that bakery on campus. I go there!”

Soobin’s eyes nearly fall out of his sockets at the sight of you sitting next to him and he nearly chokes on his drink as he splutters on his straw and nods. Act calm, act calm, act calm, act calm. Act cool and mysterious.

It’s you! You’re speaking to him?!

“So…these things not really your scene, huh?”

“Gee. How did you ever notice?” Soobin attempts to smile and joke with dry humour but it executes a little more awkward and nervous than how he would have liked.

You also try to carry on the conversation since this is the first time you’ve got to ever actually talk to the cute boy before. “I’m very intuitive. I can just sense things like that.”

He laughs at that too, feeling a bit more comfortable around you now. “No but yeah, I’d much rather be at home right now sleeping. Can’t say I’m much of an advocate for getting stupidly drunk with sweaty people you don’t even know with terrible rave music and flashing lights that should have an epilepsy warning”

“I get it.” You chuckle at how passionate he gets talking about how much he hates clubbing, frown on his cute face. “So why are you here then?”

“Friend wanted me to. Said I needed to finally get laid or whatever.” Soobin rolls his eyes and sips on his drink again, motioning his head to the direction of beomgyu on the dance floor, clearly drunk off his ass now.

“Oh, you’re a Virgin?”

Soobin’s ears go red when he realises what he said to you. “O-oh um y-yeah I guess…”

“Are you waiting for like marriage or the right person or something?” You question, genuinely surprised. He was tall and very attractive and it was rare for college boys to not hook up every single night these days.

“God no. Just never happened. I don’t really care for things like that. It’s probably overhyped anyway and doesn’t even feel that good. Like porn is highly unrealistic anyway.”

“You think so?” You chuckle at him and he nods, continuing to cutely sip on his drink with his straw. “Well maybe you should to try it out first and see for yourself.” Your words start to become a little flirty as you grow more confident talking with him and also because of the alcohol making you slightly tipsy now. “Sorry, but do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes please.” Soobin’s eyes widen even more at your suggestion and he’s more than happy to get out of here with you especially.

“Umm your friend is a bit….out of it right now.” You watch beomgyu drunk from afar, whipping his long hair back and forth claiming to everyone around he’ll be able to do it fast enough to lift off his feet and fly like a helicopter.

“He’ll be…he’ll be fine I’m sure”

Soobin has no idea what good stuff he must have done in his past life to get to this moment right now, in your room, making out with you, in your bed. Did he mention making out? With you?! The customer he’s been crushing on for months?! Holy, he might hyperventilate right now. It all feels like a dream. Is this real right now?

You cup his cheek and move into his lap, continuing to move your lips against his and soobin’s ears and face are all flushed, breathing loud of enough for you to hear and he looks all nervous and a little shaky.

You stop kissing him but he chases after your lips still and you stroke his cheek, “Are you okay Soobin?”

He’s only able to nod, lips parted and eyes all glazed over. He’s so out of it just from making out with you it’s crazy. But so cute too.

“C-can you…can we…just want…”

“What do you want, baby?” You chuckle and stroke his cheek as he manages to utter some words. The petname only makes his head go even more haywire.

“W-want you…”

“What do you want me to do?” You giggle and coo at him.

He shyly shows you the boner he’s had this entire time. You can’t believe he got a boner just from some kissing. “Can you-will you touch me…please? Need it…” He pleads at you nervously, so red in the face.

“Are you sure?”

He nods his head exceptionally fast and you begin to unbuckle his jeans as he watches you take his flushed and hard dick out, breathing only becoming heavier. Damn, you didn’t think he’d be that big.

You take him into your hands and his mouth his already agape, gasping when you slowly start to stroke him.

You pump his big cock at a steady pace so as not to overwhelm him too much, though twisting and thumbing at the tip occasionally that has him drooling at the corner of his mouth and beads of precum dribbling out heavily from his cock. It’s endearing how far gone he is just at you stroking his dick slow, shy whimpers and other noises eliciting from his mouth.

You unbutton you shirt with your other hand as you continue to pump him and his eyes go crazed at the sight of your tits, you guiding his own big inexperienced hands to grope at them and he does, slumping his head into your neck and shoulder moaning into it and still groping and squeezing at your tits.

With a sudden yelp you feel Soobin’s cum spurt up and leak into your hands, his eyes rolling back as he whimpers continuously from his premature orgasm.

He doesn’t lift his head from your shoulder yet, too embarrassed to face you but he eventually does, eyes still half lidded, trying to catch his breath and he’s hard again. “W-will you fuck me? Please please please. Wanna feel it, wanna feel you, please?” He practically begs, still panting out.

“Are you really sure, Soobin? With me?”

“Yes please! Only want you.”

You study his face for any hesitancy but it’s clear he’s so set on wanting you to fuck him. So you wrap your hands around both his wrists and bring him to lay down on your pillows instead, you still straddling his lap.

When you’ve undressed your lower half, you bring his dick and slide it over your entrance a few times, he moans out loud, hands coming up shyly to cover his face and then you sink down incredibly slowly on his massive length . Soobin’s jaw drops and breath hitches at the feeling of his dick finally in your warm pussy, a strangled moan ripping out of him. He could seriously cum just from being in you right now, but he tries so hard not to or you’ll be disappointed and he doesn’t want to see you disappointed or embarrass himself even more.

“You good, baby?”

“M’ f-fine. Just-Just need a minute.” Soobin shakes out.

You take his hands away from his face and lean down to softly kiss him instead, trying to calm him down and he effuses into your mouth, kissing back passionately with his eyes closed.

“I’m ready now…” He pulls away after a while and looks you in the eyes.

So you start to slowly move, riding him, going up and down on his virgin dick. Soobin’s mouth hangs open in endless moans and gasps and whimpers, face buried into your pillow to the side and his hair all messy now. Whole body flushed and shaking underneath you.

“Better than you thought, baby?” You grunt out, bouncing on top of his cock.

“So much better. O-oh my god, f-fuck…ah!” So maybe sex wasn’t overhyped after all. Because goddamn, you feel so fucking good. Maybe it was just you. But Soobin truly feels like he’s gliding on fluffy clouds right now. All the times he’s touched himself not even coming close to how he feels right now stuffed in your pussy as you fuck him, watching mesmerised as your tits bounce with each movement. He could die here right now in full contentment. Oh how he was so wrong.

It’s not long at all before Soobin can’t hold it anymore. His hips bucking up and breath hitching as a loud strangled mewl tumbles out of his mouth and you feel hot cum fill you up suddenly that makes you still your movements on him. He lets out a long slurred groan and then goes limp beneath you, eyes closing shut and open as he fades from conscious to not every now and then. Is he really that fucked out?

After a while, he finally somewhat recovers and comes back to you from his high, still panting out and chest rising up and down. He looks up at you with a small shy smile on his lips, arm thrown over his forehead.

“You know I literally only go to the bakery because of how cute and silly you are and how you always make a mess of yourself whenever I walk in” You chuckle and admit, drawing shapes into his chest.

“W-wait you knew I liked you?” Soobin asks, shocked and feeling embarrassed again.

You laugh, “Come on, you made it rather obvious.”

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and irriating when fics have such little reblogs ☹️. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it make writers want to actually write :)

A/n: having serious writers block rn but forced myself to write this in practically one sitting (it was so painful) and has not been proof read at all so if it makes no sense I apologise 😭

#soobin smut #Soobin x reader #txt smut #sub!idol #txt headcanons #txt scenarios #sub soobin #dom reader #dom! reader #txt x reader #sub txt #soobin hard thoughts #choi soobin smut #choi Soobin x reader #soobin scenarios #sub! txt #sub idol

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flwrstqr · 8 months ago

Text

FALLING IN LOVE ACCIDENTALLY (OR NOT) (LHS - 이희승)

SYNOPSIS: babysitting wasn't your dream job that you always wanted. as you start babysitting a new girl, lee jihyeon, you meet her older brother, lee heeseung. You end up getting closer and closer to heeseung and ultimately fall in love amidst the chaos.

pairing: bad boy!heeseung x babysitter!reader

genre: s2l, babysitter au, romance, fluff, angst, medium fic

warning(s): parties, cursing, fighting, mentions death, small grammar errors, crying, some angst scenes, kissing, reader and heeseung has a year age gap

word count: 5k+

AN: guys im back with a medium fic!! lowkey this wasn't really the it vibe as the end i feel like was kind of rushed. so if i made any grammar errors im sorry TT, i finished this writing in like 2-3 days so it was kind of hard so. but liz + hye for helping me think of a climax. i kind of got this idea for a POV on tiktok so help

AGE 21, THE SUPPOSED GOLDEN YEARS OF LIFE, or so they say. But for you, it's far from golden. Being a babysitter at this age isn't exactly glamorous; it's probably one of the last jobs you'd expect to have.

"Yunah, I'm heading out to my new client's place, okay?" you call out before leaving the door.

"Okay, just be safe!" Yunah shouts back from her room down the hallway. You close the door behind you and hurry out as usual, pulling out your notepad to review your schedule for the day:

8:00 am: Wake up 8:30 am: Go grocery shopping with Moka for breakfast 9:30 am: Have breakfast 9:45 am: Prepare for the new kid 10:30 am: Leave the house 10:45 am: Arrive at the client's house 1:00 pm: Leave the client's house

You quietly close your notepad and mentally rehearse what to say as you settle onto the bus. Upon reaching your stop, you make your way to the house.

The house is painted in soft beige and cream, with a porch ceiling resembling a clear blue sky on a sunny day. A wind chime gently sways, welcoming visitors with its melodic tinkling. You ring the doorbell and wait.

A boy around your age answers, with dark red hair and deer-like features. His ear piercings catch your attention as he regards you with an intense stare.

"Hi, I'm here for Jihyeon. Lee Jihyeon," you say, your words stumbling slightly under his gaze. "I'm her babysitter. YN LN."

"Oh, Jihyeon's upstairs," he replies with a shrug, ushering you inside.

Inside, the entrance feels airy and bright, with a faint scent of coffee lingering in the kitchen. Making your way upstairs, you come to a door adorned with pink letters and heart and flower stickers, reading "LEE JIHYEON." You knock, and a small girl, around six years old, opens the door.

"Hi," she says, her eyes wide as she looks up at you. "Are you a princess here to take me to princess school?"

You chuckle softly. "You can think that if you want. I'm YN. Your new friend," you introduce yourself, crouching down to her eye level.

"Are you here to babysit me?" Jihyeon asks as she lets you enter her room.

"More than babysitting, I'll be your new friend," you reassure her with a smile.

"Really?" Jihyeon's eyes light up. "I've wanted a friend for a while, but I don't have any at school." She quickly covers her mouth, realizing what she's said, and closes the door abruptly.

"Jihyeon?" you raise an eyebrow at her sudden change in demeanor.

"Sorry, my brother doesn't know. If he found out, he might cause trouble at my school," Jihyeon explains, pouting as she joins you.

"Your brother?"

"Yeah, Heeseung," Jihyeon beams, kicking her legs as she sits. "I love him a lot."

You smile at her innocence. "How old is your brother?"

"22!" Jihyeon exclaims. "He's like 16 years older than me, but he's a great brother."

"I see. How about we start playing now?" you suggest, earning an enthusiastic nod from Jihyeon as she jumps up to grab her toys.

"YN, COME ON! WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE TO YEJI’S PARTY!" Minju exclaims as she peeks into your room. Her mouth slightly drops as she sees your outfit. "Trying on the new dress you got?"

You nodded, turning to her. "Does it look okay? Not too over-the-top?"

Twirling to inspect yourself in the mirror, the knee-length black velvet dress hugged your figure, adorned with delicate black lace and a soft touch.

"You look stunning," Minju beamed, adding the final touch by placing a diamond necklace around your neck.

"Thanks, Minju," you said, pulling her into a hug.

"Anything for you, YN. Now come on, let's go to the party. Yunah is complaining about how long we're taking," Minju laughs, quickly letting go of the embrace before taking your hand and dragging you to the car.

As you get into the car, the six of you start driving to the party, blasting music and enjoying your life. When you arrive, the club is crazy loud. The noise from the DJ speakers vibrates throughout the room, friend groups dancing in circles, and couples making out in the back. Your shoulders tense as you scan the room. You walk over to the bar to get a quick drink before joining the party.

Feeling awkward and out of place, you shuffle around while holding your drink. You glance around and make eye contact with Moka, who is sitting with a group of people. She signals for you to join them, but you shake your head no and excuse yourself to the bathroom. As you wash your hands and return to the party, you come face to face with the one girl you wished you never saw again: Yoonhee, the girl who bullied you in high school for being "poor."

"Oh look, it's YN LN!" she gives a small fake smile. "Didn't expect to see you at Yeji's party tonight."

"What do you want, Yoonhee," you glare.

"Nothing, I'm just giving you a pleasant greeting. Nothing more," she laughs, triggering flashbacks from when you were 17.

"Then get out of my way, Yoonhee," you spat.

"Woah, no need to get so aggressive," she gives a proud smile. "I heard you were babysitting. How's it like to be poor?"

That was your last straw. You grab the nearest drink and throw it at Yoonhee's white dress. Her eyes widen as she sees the purple punch juice on her dress. Her eyes then narrow as she stares at you.

"Do you know how much this cost? This dress cost $5,270. Now you have to pay for that," she says angrily.

"Fuck off, Yoonhee. You're still the same. No wonder you have no friends," you yell before turning around and running out of the nearest exit.

You burst out into tears, knowing you were sober. You walk yourself to the nearest bus station, sobbing silently as you wipe your tears. Each step gets heavier as your heels start to burn and your bare knees and calves shiver from the cold.

“Hey, are you okay?" a voice asks. It's a voice that sounds so familiar. A voice that you swore you heard before. You look up to meet the same boy back at Jihyeon’s house. The boy with those deer-like features and dark red hair, with the same exact piercings.

"You’re the guy from Jihyeon's house," you try to piece his name together as only in your mind was the incident with Yoonhee and you.

"Heeseung, and you are?" he asks, noticing your teary eyes.

"YN," you reply, wiping your tears.

Heeseung then notices how you're shivering from the cold. He takes off his jacket and drapes his jacket over your shoulders

"Here, you can take this. Do you need a ride or anything? Do you have someone picking you up?" he asks.

"Yunah, Moka, and Minju are still there. They're my friends," you sniffle. "But I was walking myself to the bus station."

“Still there?” He raises his eyebrow.

“At the party,” you mumbled.

"If you want, I can take you home," Heeseung suggests.

"How do I know you're not a kidnapper," you tease with a pout.

Heeseung laughs softly. "Do you think I am?"

"Maybe," you reply.

"Trust me, I won't. Plus, what's the worst thing I can do?" Heeseung smiles.

"Weird stuff," you say.

"I won't. Where do you live?" he asks.

"Okay, that's a bit off," you reply teasingly.

"Hey..." Heeseung says in a half-joking, half-serious tone.

"Fine, I'll tell you the direction, you drive the car," you respond.

"Oh, who said it was a car?" Heeseung winks as he walks you over to his motorcycle.

Your eyes widen. "A motorcycle? Also, I need a helmet?"

"Wear mine," he grins, handing you his helmet before helping you hop onto the back. You hold him tightly as he starts his engine.

As you clutch onto his leather jacket, he speeds up, and you squeeze your eyes closed, afraid of falling. When you open them again, you admire the midnight sky, feeling the cold breeze hug you warmly. When you arrive back at the dorm, you wave goodnight to Heeseung before he turns around.

"Can I get your number?" he asks.

"Sure," you grin, inserting your number into Heeseung's phone. You wink and then turn around to walk back into your dorm.

THE DOOR SWINGS OPEN, and Jihyeon's sweet smile welcomes you in. She bounds up with excitement, leading you upstairs to her room.

"Where's your brother, Jihyeon?" you ask, your tone light. You steal a glance at your bag, where Heeseung's neatly folded and laundered jacket rests.

"He's out or something," Jihyeon shrugs, already eager to show off her new toy.

As time flies by, you and Jihyeon play together as usual. She cherishes your time together, and as you help prepare lunch, the two of you chat.

"Jihyeon, are your parents not home?" you inquire, placing the grilled cheese she requested onto a plate.

"They're not here," Jihyeon replies between bites of her sandwich, causing your eyes to widen slightly.

"I see," you murmur softly, tucking a strand of Jihyeon's hair behind her ear as she takes another big bite.

"That's why Heeseung is always out. He's always looking for a babysitter for me because I'm only 6. So, I want you to be my permanent babysitter!" Jihyeon beams, savoring each taste of her grilled cheese.

"I'll always be here for you, Jihyeon," you smile back, admiring her cute expression. "How about after this, we play some fun games?"

"Yes, please!" Jihyeon's face lights up with a huge smile as she takes the last bite of her grilled cheese. You then tidy up with her and quickly take her hand as you step outside to play together.

"DOES THIS LIP TINT LOOK OKAY?" you inquire of Wonhee, who was browsing through the new makeup offerings at the mall. She looks up, observing the tester product on your hand.

"Hmm, maybe a slightly lighter shade," Wonhee suggests before joining you to explore more makeup options. You pick up another lip tint, testing it out before making your purchase and leaving the store.

"YN?" a voice calls out your name. You glance up to see Heeseung waving at you.

"Oh, Heeseung," you respond with a smile. "Didn’t expect to see you here at the mall."

"My friend works at the café on the first floor, so I thought I'd pay a visit," Heeseung explains. "Are you here alone?"

"No, I'm here with—" you begin, but your voice is interrupted by Wonhee rushing over to you.

"YN! I finally decided to buy the new eyeshadow palette!" Wonhee exclaims, then she notices Heeseung. "Oh, do you know him?"

"Heeseung, Jihyeon’s older brother," you introduce, as Heeseung gives a small wave. "He's a year older than me."

"Hi, nice to meet you," Heeseung says, shaking Wonhee's hand.

"I'm Wonhee, YN's best friend or roommate, well, one of her roommates," Wonhee smiles.

"Nice to meet you," Heeseung replies, before turning back to you. "Well, gotta go so have a good time with your friend, pretty girl." Your eyes widen slightly in surprise at his affectionate nickname as he walks off to the first floor, hands in his pockets.

"God, he's definitely into you, YN!" Wonhee giggles, noting your shocked expression.

"Shut up, Wonhee!" you exclaim.

"Just saying!" Wonhee laughs.

A COUPLE OF WEEKS HAD PASSED SINCE YOU FIRST MET HEESEUNG, but it was that one night that really caught your attention. After a long day of babysitting, you decided to take a leisurely stroll around the park before heading back to your dorm.

The night was tranquil, nearly 9 pm, and the crisp air refreshed you as you walked. As you approached your usual alleyway, the sound of punches and kicks pierced the calm. Your heart raced with nervousness as you wondered what was happening. Was it a hallucination, or...?

Turning the corner, you were shocked to see Heeseung amidst a group of boys. Quickly, you ducked behind a wall, watching in disbelief. Why was he in a fight?

Straining to hear their conversation, you caught Heeseung shouting, "You owe me $1,000. I won the bet," just before another punch landed on his face. Your heart sank at the sight of his swollen lips and bruised eye.

"Who cares about the bet? You messed with us, you’re dead," a boy sneered, delivering another blow.

"Leave him alone!" you finally mustered the courage to intervene, emerging from your hiding spot.

The boy mocked, "Oh look, is it your girlfriend, Heeseung? If you’re a stray cat trying to get your boyfriend out of trouble, you're out of luck."

In a burst of anger, you threw your purse at the boy, sending him tumbling to the ground. Another boy's eyes widened in shock as he witnessed the scene.

"What did you say?" you demanded, your eyes narrowing.

As the tension escalated, you kicked the taunting boy hard in the legs, causing him to yelp in pain.

"Want to say that again?" you glared. "Fuck off and find something better to do with your time."

The boy slowly looking a bit scared quickly ran off through the alleyways as his friends tagged along with him.

“So…” you began tentatively, noticing Heeseung’s bleeding lip.

“Sorry for all of that,” Heeseung apologized sincerely.

“Let's talk later. For now, let's get you patched up,” you replied, swiftly leading him to the nearby convenience store to grab a first aid kit.

"HOW DID YOU EVEN END UP IN THAT FIGHT?" you inquire as the two of you settle in at the park. You pull out a tube of scar gel, uncapping it and listening intently as Heeseung explains.

"Well, I made a bet for $1,000 and won, so I got dragged into the whole brawl," Heeseung shrugs. "It's just the usual."

"Usual?" your eyebrow raises as you first cleanse the scar with an alcohol wipe.

"Ouch, that stings," Heeseung winces as you then pat it dry with a tissue. "Yeah, it's kind of normal for me... ouch."

"Then maybe you shouldn't do it; it's dangerous," you respond, leaning in closer to apply the medicine. Heeseung's heart thumps as he watches you approach. You can feel his breath against your skin, and his cheeks flush as your fingers touch his skin. Why does his stomach feel like it's doing somersaults?

You affix a small bandage as a finishing touch. "There."

"Thanks," Heeseung smiles. "So, where were you?"

"Babysitting for another kid today," you shrug, quickly disposing of the bandage wrapper and tidying up your first aid kit.

"I see," Heeseung replies, helping you clean up. "I can walk you home if you want?"

"I'll walk," you smile.

"I could walk with you part of the way," Heeseung suggests, falling into step beside you. You both gaze at the glimmering stars, admiring them from afar.

"You know," you start, "Jihyeon mentioned something about your parents."

Heeseung's gaze drops as he stares at the ground, his smile fading slightly. He looks at you. "She did?"

You nod, meeting Heeseung's eyes. "If you're comfortable sharing, what happened?"

"Well..." Heeseung pauses, contemplating for a moment before continuing. "My parents died in a car crash. They were returning from a movie, and they never really got to say goodbye to us. I guess my biggest regret was not saying goodbye before they left. I was just being stubborn and angry because they scolded me for getting a bad grade."

You listen attentively. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay. It's all in the past now. It happened about five years ago, and I barely remember it," Heeseung shrugs.

"I hope things have gotten better since then," you smile.

"Thanks, YN," he gives you a grateful look.

"Anyway, thanks for walking me. Hopefully, we can talk again later," you wave goodbye before heading towards your apartment building.

"YN, COULE YOU PLEASE JOIN ME FOR A DRESS-UP TEA PARTY?" Jihyeon pleads with a cute pout, coaxing you into her playful scheme.

"Alright, fine…" you reluctantly agree, watching as Jihyeon's face lit up with a wide smile before she hurriedly led you to her room to fetch tiaras and dresses.

"This dress is from Mommy's room, so you can wear it," Jihyeon grin mischievously, confessing how she got it without her brother's knowledge. You examine the dress—a simple white garment with puffy sleeves adorned with intricate lace, reaching knee-length.

After changing in the bathroom, you admire your reflection in the mirror. Surprisingly, the dress fit perfectly, accentuating your features.

Emerging from the bathroom, you found Jihyeon holding two tiaras, dressed in her own fancy pink attire. She hands you a tiara, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she helps you place it on your head.

"Let's go! It's tea party time!" she exclaims, leading you to the dining table where she arranged fake tea cups. Pouring imaginary "tea" into your cup, you play along, enjoying the moment.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes observed from the doorway. "A tea party without me?" a teasing voice remark, revealing Heeseung, in his usual leather jacket and jeans, his smile widening as he saw you. His gaze linger on you appreciatively, taking in the sight of the borrowed dress.

"Heeseung!" Jihyeon exclaims, rushing into his arms.

"How are you, Jihyeon?" Heeseung greets, lifting her up gently.

"Why are you home so early?" Jihyeon inquire.

"Just needed to grab something upstairs," Heeseung replies with a grin. "Could you fetch my phone and wallet, Jihyeon? I need to chat with YN."

"Sure!" Jihyeon agreeing, scampering off to fulfill his request.

"YN…" Heeseung's gaze softened as he admires your appearance in the dress. "You look beautiful."

"I hope it's not inappropriate or disrespectful cause Jihyeon let me borrow it…" you began, but Heeseung quickly reassuring you.

"No, it's fine. You should keep it. It suits you really well," he insisted

"Are you sure?" you ask hesitantly.

"Absolutely," Heeseung affirm, his smile unwavering. "By the way, are you free next Friday evening? Jihyeon will be with her aunt, and I thought maybe we could grab dinner together."

"Ah, is someone asking me out?" you tease, accepting his invitation with a smile.

Heeseung chuckles. "Guilty as charged. See you next Friday then. Feel free to continue your tea party," he added with a wink as you playfully rolled your eyes. Jihyeon returned with Heeseung's belongings, bidding him farewell as he left the house once more.

"WHY AM I SO NERVOUS…" you whisper to yourself in the bathroom before a ding dong at the door interrupts your thoughts. "I'LL GET IT!" you shout, hastily opening the door to find Heeseung standing there, clad in a white blouse with the first two buttons undone and black pants.

"I hope I’m not too early?" Heeseung grins.

"Perfect timing," you reply with a small smile. "I'LL BE BACK SOON!" you call out to your friends before exiting the house.

Outside, Heeseung's motorcycle awaits, and you sit on it, securing your helmet as he starts the engine. Arriving at the restaurant, he assists you off the bike, taking your hand and leading you inside. As you settle at a table, you quickly peruse the menu and place your order, leaving time for conversation.

"I noticed something unique about Jihyeon," you begin. "Unlike most kids who prioritize toys, she seems more…mature, especially in her care for you."

"Hm?" Heeseung looks intrigued.

"She's genuinely thoughtful and responsible, almost like she was raised exceptionally well," you add, earning a nod from Heeseung.

"You also strike me as a great brother," you compliment, noticing a faint blush on Heeseung's cheeks as he looks away, taking a sip of water to compose himself.

"Thanks," he responds, attempting to maintain his composure.

As the conversation flows, your food arrives, and after enjoying the meal, you take a leisurely stroll, chatting along the way.

"Yunah is more of a 'clumsy older sister' than an organized one," you remark.

"I could gather that from your stories," Heeseung chuckles, then pauses, "Your shoes... they're untied." He bends down to quickly tie your shoelaces, and inexplicably, your heart begins to race. Why the sudden flutter in your stomach?

"T-thanks," you stutter, "H-how about we head back home now? It's getting late, you know?"

"Yeah, sure," Heeseung nods, masking how he was blushing too.

YOU LIE IN YOUR BED, STARING AT THE CEILING, thinking of all the times you've spent with Heeseung. All the times you babysat Jihyeon and he would always stop by and wave at you. All the time he would do small things to make your heart thump loudly. All the rides you took on his motorcycle. The scent of his leather jacket when you first met him after the party. All of that was nearly 4-5 months ago. Now here you are, lying down and thinking about Heeseung all night, memories keeping you up until 4 am.

“Do you think I’m in love?” you ask Iroha.

“I think you are,” Iroha responds with a smile. “You always talk about Heeseung, and he treats you really well.”

You pause and ponder Iroha’s words, contemplating what it truly means to you. Were all those butterflies in your stomach a sign of love? What even is love?You gaze out the window, reflecting for the last time. Now you realize it, Iroha was right. You are truly deeply in love with the one and only Lee Heeseung

“YN, YOU’RE ZONING OUT AGAIN.” Jihyeon pouts as you gaze out the window for the fourth time.

“Sorry, Jihyeon. Where were we in the play?” you try to give a small smile that hopefully Jihyeon would forgive.

“We were where the prince confessed to the princess!” Jihyeon exclaims.

Confess. The word pops up in the brain as you try to gain your focus back, “Right.” You whisper before then zoning out again. God, why was Heeseung taking your whole mind?

You quickly snap back to reality, “Sorry—so basically the princess confesses to the prince of how much she loves him. How much she makes her get butterflies in her stomach. The way he gives her jacket and talks to her all the time..” You continue on as your mind is only about Heeseung. All the stuff you were saying perfectly described him.

“You know this kind of sounds like my brother,” Jihyeon says, as she plays with her dolls.

“Huh?” you look up from talking.

“Is it?” Jihyeon asks.

“Uhm..” you hesitate.

“It is.” Jihyeon replies, reading your expression, “it’s okay cause I have my mouth shut.” She grabs her fingers and pretends to zip her mouth close as you laugh at her cuteness. But she wasn’t wrong, everything you said was about Heeseung. Everything in your mind right now was Heeseung.

YOU AND YUNAH SETTLE INTO A cozy corner at the bustling café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling in the air. Thoughts of Heeseung, the boy who occupies far too much space in your mind, tug at your attention.

"I’m going to the bathroom," you say, forcing a smile as you make your way to the bathroom. Inside the dimly lit space, you take a deep breath, trying to push aside your thoughts.

But as you stand there, staring at your reflection in the mirror, you can't help but overhear a conversation from the other side of the bathroom.

"Heeseung definitely likes me. Like in Lee Heeseung," a voice boasts confidently. "Remember that one day he kissed me once. He's my type too."

Your heart skips a beat as the words sink in, a wave of shock and betrayal washing over you. Why did you think he likes you? Why did you like him?

You press a hand to your mouth, trying to stop the sobs that threaten to escape. Tears blur your vision as you struggle to make sense of heartbreak.

With trembling hands, you splash cold water on your face, trying to compose yourself before facing Yunah again. You can't let her see you like this, can't bear to let her witness the shattered remnants of your heart.

Summoning every ounce of strength you have left, you force yourself to leave the bathroom. Yunah's concerned gaze meets yours, and you offer her a weak smile.

"I'm not feeling well," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think I should go home."

Yunah's brow furrows with worry, and she reaches out to touch your arm. But you pull away gently, offering her a reassuring smile.

"I'll be okay," you lie, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "I just need some rest."

With a heavy heart, you bid farewell to Yunah and make your escape from the café. Once outside, tears streaming down your cheeks. Sobbing your eyes, you make your way back home with a broken heart.

"YN, COME ON. HE’S SUCH A JERK" Wonhee consoles you as she wipes away your tears for what feels like the fifth time this week.

"He completely played me," you sob, feeling the weight of betrayal. "I thought there was something between us, but turns out he's just the brother of a kid I babysit. Why did I even like him?"

"YN…" Moka's voice is gentle as she squeezes your hand, "Please don't talk like that. What if there's a misunderstanding?"

"They mentioned 'Lee Heeseung,' it's obviously him," you sniffle, trying to compose yourself.

"Well, why waste your time on someone who doesn't deserve it?" Minju interjects.

"Minju's got a point," Wonhee agrees, "He's not worth your tears. He's just a player."

"But I can't help it, I think I love him," you admit, feeling torn.

"But Heeseung doesn't strike me as the type to play with someone's feelings like that. He's a good guy," Yunah suggests optimistically. "Maybe there's more to the story that you don't know."

"I don't even know anymore," you murmur, wiping your eyes. "All I know is I can't face anyone for the next week. I might even cancel all my plans. I just can't bear to see him right now."

HEESEUNG SAT AT HIS DESK, his mind consumed with worry. It had been a week since you abruptly canceled all your plans, and he hadn't heard from you since. His messages were delivered for nearly a week and according to Iroha, you hadn't left your house in days.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely registered the sound of his bedroom door creaking open. Jihyeon stood in the doorway, her big brown eyes filled with concern.

"Heeseung, are you okay?" she asked softly, her small voice breaking through his anxious mind.

Heeseung forced a smile, trying to hide his emotion, "I'm fine, Jihyeon. Just a little tired."

Jihyeon frowned, unconvinced by his reassurance. "But you've been pacing around your room all day, and you haven't touched your food," she pointed out, her brow furrowing with worry.

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He couldn't hide anything from Jihyeon; she always saw right through him.

"I'm just worried about someone," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jihyeon's eyes widened with curiosity. "Is it YN?" she asked, her voice filled with innocence.

Heeseung's heart skipped a beat at the mention of your name, and he nodded slowly. "Yes, it's YN. I haven't heard from her in days, and I'm starting to get really worried."

Jihyeon's expression softened, and she took a tentative step forward, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Heeseung. I'm sure she's okay. Maybe she just needs some time alone."

Heeseung wanted to believe her, but the nagging worry in the back of his mind refused to go away. "Hopefully."

Suddenly, Jihyeon's eyes lit up with excitement, as if she had just remembered something important. "Hey, Heeseung, do you like YN?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

Heeseung's heart skipped a beat at the question, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I…uh…what makes you ask that?"

Jihyeon shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "YN may have told me that you give her butterflies and so many other things"

Heeseung's breath caught in his throat at the revelation, his mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. You liked him? The realization filled him with a sense of hope he hadn't felt in days.

"I need to go find YN."he said, his voice choking with emotion.

THE NIGHT HUNG HEAVY WITH SILENCE. Tears streamed down your cheeks; the clock ticked, marking the passing of time as you sat alone in your room.

The sudden creak of the window startled you, and you turned to see Heeseung framed against the moonlit sky. His presence sent a jolt of surprise through you.

"Heeseung?" you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of emotions.

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words to say. "YN, I…," he started, but his voice faltered as he struggled to find the courage to speak.

"What are you doing here, Heeseung?" you asked, your voice betraying the hurt and confusion.

Heeseung took a step closer, his eyes filled with concern as he noticed the tears staining your cheeks. "YN, what happened? Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice with genuine worry.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of anger at his question,"Why do you care, Heeseung?" you snapped, your voice sharp"After everything that's happened, why do you even bother?"

Heeseung's eyes widened in surprise, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern. "What do you mean, YN? What happened?" he asked.

The anger inside you boiled over, and you couldn't hold back the flood of emotions any longer. "You like another girl," you said, your voice trembling with hurt and anger. "You kissed her,"

Heeseung's face looked puzzled, his eyes with confusion"YN, it's not what you think," he started, but you cut him off.

"Don't even bother, Heeseung," you said, your voice filled with resignation. "I know the truth now. I know that everything you did to me was just to play."

Heeseung's heart shattered at your words, "YN, please, let me explain," he pleaded, his voice desperate. You shake your head no.

"YN, listen to me," he said, his voice barely audible over the sound of your quiet sobs. "Those are all false. I never kissed anyone. I don’t like anyone but…"

You turned to face him, the tears still streaming down your cheeks as you searched his eyes.

“But you. I like you, YN," Heeseung confessed, "More than I've ever liked anyone before."

Your eyes widened, “What?”

“I like you YN.” Heeseung confessed, before you could process anything

For a moment, the world fell away around you as he pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. Lips in sync, his hands snaking around your waist.

But all too soon, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway outside your room, and Heeseung pulled away, his eyes wide with panic. "YN, open the door, I brought tea," Yunah's voice called out. He realized that he was about to be caught, and he turned to you. Without a word, he pressed his lips to yours one last time.

As you stood there, the echo of his words ringing in your ears. He liked you. Heeseung Lee liked you back.

THE WARM GLOW OF THE AFTERNOON SUN FILTERED through the curtains, casting a soft light over the cozy living room. You sat beside him on the comfortable couch, next to Heeseung’s side as you watched a movie together.

Jihyeon sat on the floor in front of the TV, completely engrossed in the movie. Every so often, she would glance back at the two of you, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she plotted her next adventure.

Heeseung wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Is the movie good, angel?" he murmured, his voice soft with affection.

You nodded, leaning into his embrace with a contented sigh. "Mhmm, perfect," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

As the movie played on, you found yourself drifting off, the gentle rhythm of Heeseung's heartbeat and the noise of Jihyeon’s laughter.

When the movie finally came to an end, Jihyeon jumped up from her spot on the floor, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Can we play a game now?" she asked, bouncing up and down.

Heeseung chuckled at her enthusiasm, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Of course, Jihyeon," he said, shooting you a playful grin. "What do you want to play?"

Jihyeon's face lit up with delight as she rattled off a list of her favorite games, her energy infectious as she dragged the two of you into her world of make-believe. You and Heeseung played along with her antics, laughing and joking as you chased each other around the room, completely lost in the moment.

And as you watched Heeseung and Jihyeon, their laughter filling the air with joy, you knew that you would do anything to protect this precious moment, to hold onto it for as long as you possibly could.

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oukabarsburgblr · 9 months ago

Text

Man in the Elevator [Office AU]

FEATURING : MALE STRANGER (OC) x male reader

As you arrive to work, you find yourself stuck in the elevator with a handsome unknown coworker. Unable to exit, a robotic voice from the intercom announces that to leave the elevator, you'd have to do the despicable. And with a total hot stranger?!

Dubcon, variation of sex pollen kind of fic, male oc x male reader

aftermath

Find out more under the cut!

What kind of porn scenario is this?!

The (h/c) gritted his teeth, tempted to smash the button of the intercom. "...I think someone is just messing with us." He didn't want to turn around, only glancing at the mirror to his left, the only big reflective piece in the small elevator.

A man, handsome (m/n) noted, stood in a nice, ironed black suit, a navy button up and a matching black tie. His skin was pale, spiky and short dark hair, his build strong and quite beefy. He'd look like someone you'd have a crush on at the gym. The expensive one you'd think twice before purchasing a membership.

Daisuke Yuichi.

(m/n) read his name tag as he sighed and crouched down on the elevator floor, hearing the man behind him trying to reassure him.

It was like any other morning, he'd wake up, get ready for his job at any normal office environment and arrive to work using the public railway. Although the normal elevator he would use in the lobby was unusable, scheduled for maintenance, and he opted to use the lower ground one on the west side of the building so he went downstairs to the garage.

He didn't pay any mind when a guy who looks richer than his office acquiantances waited for the elevator beside him and stepped inside as well. It was sudden when the elevator shook and went rigid, not responding when the (h/c) frantically smashed the button to open the elevator.

"To exit the elevator, please commit sexual intercourse with the person closest to you!"

The (h/c) felt his stomach dropped as the formal prerecorded voice rang inside the lift. A gasp escaped the stranger behind him as well. "Hey what the fuck? This isn't funny!" He kicked the metal doors, agitated but to no avail.

"To exit the elevator, please commit sexual intercourse with the person closest to you!"

"I...This never happened before..." (m/n) turned behind him. The good-looking man had a worried expression. "Can you try calling for maintenance? My phone has no line."

True to his words, the (h/c) could not call anyone for help, limiting his communication to the outside world making him feel more panic inside. "Damn it..."

Currently, every time they pressed any button whatsoever, the same message would repeat, clarifying that someone needs to fuck someone and (m/n) would rather not be involved. Well-

"I'm really sorry if I make you feel uncomfortable...I'll stop talking now." The stranger, Daisuke, really tried his best to reaffirm the (h/c) as he sat in the corner, as far as he could but (m/n) ignored him, too annoyed to even talk. It doesn't help that his face was a real beaut too. One of those gentle giants that girls would rave over.

"..." (m/n) didn't speak, annoyed at the whole situation as he remained his crouched stance, crinkling his suit. "Do you...work here too?"

The (h/c) groaned, Daisuke really was a chatterbox, either that or he speaks to calm his nerves. "If it isn't any obvious, then yes. I do work here." He snapped accidentally.

"Sorry. My name is Daisuke! Daisuke Yuichi." Hearing (m/n) respond made Daisuke's tone much lighter, smiling as he held out a hand. The (h/c) grabbed it and shook it lightly. "I know." "Eh? You know me?" "No. I read your nametag." "Oh..."

The ravenette seemed disappointed, (m/n) almost rolled his eyes. Was he supposed to be some hotshot or something?

"Can I know your name?" "(m/n) (l/n)." "That's a nice name." Daisuke's lips form a gentle smile, reaching his eyes. The (h/c)'s face was blank however.

"...so what's the plan?"

(m/n) squinted his eyes at Daisuke, who still had that polite smile on. If he had to describe this new stranger, a polite, neat, rich guy. Other words, a golden retriever, maybe?

"We wait. This can't go on forever." Daisuke pouted and looked the other way to hide his face. He mumbled an 'okay'. (m/n) was horrified. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? Was he ready to do the deed with anyone at any time?!

The (h/c) scooted further into the corner, burying his face into his knees. Waiting for the elevator to return to normal or when help somehow miraculously arrived.

Half an hour passed when the intercom suddenly announced that 'assistance' would commence.

"To ease the occurence of an intercouse, external assistance would be provided!"

(m/n) was screaming internally and screamed externally when visible coloured gas came pouring in from the vents. It was heavy from Daisuke's side. "Hey hey! It's okay. We'll be fine." The ravenette held (m/n) by his shoulders when the (h/c) was panicking and thrashing about.

"You're fucking with me right now?! This is absurd!" (m/n) wailed into Daisuke's hold as the ravenette immediately took off his blazer. He grabbed a water bottle and soaked part of his blazer and pressed it into the (h/c)'s face.

"Don't breathe it in. This will help." "What about you?!" (m/n)'s voice muffled against the damp clothing. He only noticed the rising red hue on Daisuke's cheeks and the flush on his neck and ears. He smiled apollogetically. "I think it's a bit too late for me."

The (h/c) blinked owlishly as he glanced at the feverish ravenette's crotch, his mouth screeching when he saw the big hard outline on his slacks. Daisuke sweatdropped as he slumped down against the wall of the elevator.

"Don't worry. I pride myself on my self-control. I'll just...ride it out." Daisuke smiled as he turned his face away, his breathing getting heavier and heavier.

(m/n) couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. He pressed the damp blazer further into his nostrils, the small space being filled up with the gas. He could feel himself getting slightly aroused, although notbas affected as Daisuke.

Said person only faced his body away, panting to himself in the corner while clutching his tie, pulling it loose. The ravenette closed his eyes, humming to distract himself from the growing fervour in his pants.

Daisuke felt bad for the other person in the lift, (m/n) that is. Such a handsome guy too. Wish our introduction was a bit different... Daisuke thought to himself, resisting to look at the (h/c).

"Daisuke..." "Yeah?" He croaked out. The aphrosidiac was really getting to him but he couldn't just pounce on the (h/c). What kind of person would he be then.

He flinched when a (s/c) hand grasped onto his shoulder. "Don't-!" "It's fine." (m/n) hummed, Daisuke's blazer was crumpled in a corner. The ravenette's eyes widened seeing (m/n) willingly inhale the stimulating gas.

"Why did you-" Daisuke went to cover (m/n)'s nostrils but the latter swatted his hand away. "It's...not fair for you. Besides, it's the only way we can get out of here right." The (h/c) straddled the ravenette, Daisuke's face becoming entirely flushed seeing (m/n) in his lap.

"We can do it." (m/n) mumbled, furrowing his eyebrows and glancing elsewhere. Daisuke stared at him for a bit before pushing his hips upwards, lightly grinding himself into the (h/c)'s crotch. (m/n) let out a surprise gasp as he clutched the ravenette's shoulders. He panted lightly as he tried to avoid Daisuke's horny gaze.

"....But I don't want to bottom." A vein almost popped on (m/n)'s forehead as he punched Daisuke's bicep. "FUCK OFF!" The ravenette laughed as he wrapped his arms around (m/n). "I'll do my best, (m/n)." He smiled up at the (h/c) who only nodded feverishly, feeling the lust fully taking over.

Daisuke pulled (m/n)'s waist down and began to rub their the (h/c)'s ass on his crotch, elliciting a few gasps from the latter. He could feel his nails digging into his shoulders which only drove his excitement further.

Daisuke unbuckled (m/n)'s belt, earning a whine and pulling his pants down. The (h/c) had never been so grateful that he was wearing nice briefs today. Daisuke palmed his erection, rubbing his thumb over the wet patch on his underwear.

(m/n) instantly pulled off his bottoms and hurriedly pawed at Daisuke's own pants. After their lower halves were bare, the ravenette slid his cock, (m/n) didn't dare to look at how big it was, in between the (h/c)'s ass, slipping and humping their bottoms together.

"Don't just- mmff! Shove it like that! Stroke it first- gah!"

"S-Sorry. Is this- ang ahh! Good for you- mmng!"

Even (m/n) was moving his hips, back and forth to reciprocate Daisuke's movements who was gliding his now wet cock under the (h/c)'s dick, balls and asscrack. (m/n) was confused on how the hell did Daisuke had that many precum as he stroked his own cock, ignoring the staring ravenette.

Everything felt hot and sticky, (m/n) felt every inch of his pores being pressed and melting. His body twitched against Daisuke's, his teeth gritting as he shut his eyes closed, relishing in this sinful hedonism. He flinched when he felt a spurt of wetness hitting his lower back.

"S-Sorry..." Daisuke clenched his teeth, clearly embarrassed of his quick ejaculation. (m/n) ogled the ravenette's face, scanning his reddened cheeks and long eyelashes. The world really did gifted this stranger with a good body and a good face. And the world gave this man to (m/n).

The (h/c) pursed his lips as he mumbled. "You talk too much..." He quickly jacked off his own penis, his hips stuttering when he came, Daisuke holding his waist in place. Cum smeared on Daisuke's clothed torso, littering his navy shit with milky white.

"To exit the elevator, please commit sexual intercourse with the person closest to you!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" (m/n) yelled at at the intercom, opting to throw his shoe at the button panel. He heard Daisuke chuckle as large hands began rubbing his sides up and down. "We don't have as much as a choice do we?"

The (h/c) slowly turned to see the smiling ravenette before scrunching his nose. "You're doing it from the back."

Hands gripped the cold metal railing, pants escaped from his mouth as it fogged up the mirror in front of him. (m/n) had long discarded his shoes but kept his long-sleeved top on. Daisuke had already unbuttoned his, well-defined abs, fat chest and his happy trail exposed as he pressed his crotch against (m/n)'s bottom.

Both of them were standing, the (h/c) bent over and holding the handrails of one of the two walls it was built in. Daisuke behind him, his large pale hands caressing (m/n)'s back, the latter slapping his hand away. It doesn't help that they just so happened to be in front of a mirror, fortunately for (m/n) it only showed their upper halves.

The ends of (m/n)'s shirt barely covered his behind, he felt Daisuke lightly touching it, Daisuke was thinking whether to move it but decided otherwise.

"Do you mind?" (m/n) looked up to see Daisuke holding two fingers near his face, his back almost touching Daisuke's bare chest. The (h/c) furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Why won't he do it himself?

"I've never done it with a guy before." "So?" The ravenette didn't answer, only pushing his fingers into the corner of mouth, (m/n) reluctanly opening his mouth, the gas influencing most of his decisions currently.

Daisuke began to rub his fingers all over (m/n)'s teeth, gums and his tongue prompting a gagging noise from the (h/c) as he rolled his eyes back. Instinctively, (m/n) began to suck on the thick, rough fingers, licking the padding before swirling his tongue all over his digits as knuckles knocked on his hard palate.

The ravenette's index and middle finger began to piston in and out of (m/n)'s mouth, dragging his saliva back and forth and encouraging choking noises from the (h/c). The bottom's eyesight was getting blurry and he glanced at the mirror to see Daisuke breathing heavily, his face flushed as he shoved his fingers down (m/n)'s throat.

This fucker is really getting off of this. The same could almost be said for the (h/c) who groaned as Daisuke finally pulled out, his fingers dripping with wetness and (m/n)'s throat felt raspy and sore. He flinched as cold fingers tapped on his entrance.

Daisuke tested the waters by gently prying (m/n)'s asshole, slowly pushing his fingers in as the (h/c) shivered. Sweat began to drip off of his face as he felt the ravenette behind him began caressing the inside of his hole, rubbing his walls and slowly pushing deeper and deeper.

"Mmnng just hurry up...please."

It was so teasing to feel the stranger trying to relax his hole by circling his fingers inside his ass. Clearly he wasn't lying when he said this was his first time with a man. "Patience is a virtue. I'll put it in soon." Daisuke teased (m/n) as he tapped his ass gently, the latter feeling heat rise on his face. As soon as they got out of this elevator, he's clocking his face.

Fingers pulled out and (m/n) sighed at the empty feeling in his anus but he heaved and immediately covered his mouth when Daisuke's tip suddenly impaled his entrance. The ravenette shivered as warmth enveloped his penis, he threw his head back and gazed at the mirror to see (m/n) but only found a shaking (h/c) whose head was facing the ground, concealing his expressions.

Daisuke frowned at that, wanting to see (m/n)'s face as he experimentally thrusted the rest of his penis in. He hissed at the tight hole, the (h/c) clenching down on him. The ravenette rubbed circles on (s/c) hips to calm him down as he felt the grip on his dick relaxing.

He let out a breath of relief as he gripped (m/n)'s hips and immediately pushed the rest of his cock in, hearing a muffled squeal from the (h/c). Daisuke grinned and took it as a green light, instantly thrusting in and out of his ass, moaning ardently. "F-Fucking hell. Haanh ha hah you feel so good-"

He took in the sight of his moving crotch and (m/n)'s ass colliding together, getting turned on more at the sight of his dick pounding into the squelching hole. The gas was too good at its job, precum leaking out of the (h/c)'s hole as Daisuke fucked into (m/n) harshly.

(m/n) cupped his mouth with his hand, not wanting to let out any lewd noises but having only little success. His thighs shook every time Daisuke's hips slapped into (m/n)'s behind. He could feel the ravenette's large cock pushing against his walls, filling him up to the brim.

Daisuke frowned at the (h/c)'s shirt as he pushed the fabric upwards, exposing a (s/c) back. A yelp escaped (m/n)'s lips as the ravenette licked a stripe up the (h/c)'s spine. The shock made him cum, semen squirting from his sensitive penis, spraying on the elevator walls.

The sudden tightness made Daisuke groan loudly as he stilled himself inside the (h/c). Unconsciously filling up (m/n)'s hole, the owner whimpered into his hand. "Urgh unh huh are we done-?"

"Required quota has not been achieved! Please try again!"

"Be so fucking for real right now." (m/n) groaned as he rested his head on the cool metal pole, he didn't move as Daisuke pulled out, liquid pulling out of his puffy hole. He could feel Daisuke's stare on his ass, he wiggled away when Daisuke began to poke into his drippy anus with his index finger.

Another wave of aphrosidiac poured into the lift from the vents, making (m/n) wanting to pull his hair out. What kind of sick pervert is making us do all of this??

"So."

The (h/c) let out a noise of shock as Daisuke suddenly hugged him close, pushing him against the mirror and the metail rail. "Can I do more than the back?" He smiled, blinking at (m/n) who stared at him in absurdity. The audacity??

Daisuke remained nonchalant, blinking his black eyes up at (m/n), his long lashes fluttering against his smooth white skin.

"...Fine."

Maybe (m/n) regretted saying that. Daisuke went on for so long, pushing him further up the wall, bringing up his left leg to push it against (m/n)'s chest. Exposing his puckered hole, the ravenette pushed in again, thrusting like a wild animal moaning like crazy in the (h/c)'s ear.

(m/n)'s leg was shaking, struggling to hold himself up on his tippy toes as he endured Daisuke's slams, covering his mouth again. The (h/c) shivered when Daisuke lapped his tongue at his ear, licking the shell and teasing him. He could feel cum from the previous round leaking down his leg.

"Don't cover your mouth please." The ravenette kissed (m/n)'s neck. "I want to hear you. Your voice." Daisuke pressed his lips on his jaw. "Please." He begged the (h/c), fucking himself in deep and slow earning a muffled whine.

His hand trembled before he hesitantly uncovered his mouth, Daisuke's face visibly lit up as he began to pound harder. (m/n)'s high pitched moans drawn out longer with each thrust. His hips shuddered when he felt a hand stroke his cock, pushing his precum out from the base of his dick.

His head was hot, everything felt hot, like he was smothered by a thick layer of warm air. And that warm air was causing him to these sinful things, well that's exactly what's happening.

(m/n) didn't even realised when they both had cummed. Only when Daisuke pulled himself back and began fingering his hole to get his attention. "Mmngg angh ah hn-!" "That's it. Thaaaaat's it."

Daisuke drew out his voice, whispering praise into (m/n)'s ear as he fished his semen in the tight entrance, rubbing his gummy walls. It was either the aphrosidiac had a love spell embedded into it or Daisuke was really attractive. The (h/c) took in his features, his sharp nose, round eyes and nice plump lips.

(m/n) felt like kissing the ravenette. He shook himself sober when he realised he was leaning into Daisuke's face, the latter disappointed when he pulled away.

It's fine if (m/n) doesn't feel like kissing him, Daisuke does. And he'll coax him using sex!

"Required quota has not been achieved! Please try again!"

The next few scenes were a blur to (m/n). All he could remember was that the gas was the thickest for the next hour, and he was moved into all sorts of positions. Daisuke fucked him up a wall, his arms under his knees as he held up the (h/c) like a champ, his muscles sweating as he teared off the rest of his clothing, exposing his bare body to (m/n).

His thrusts began to increase as well, the lust seeping in their veins were at its maximum as they fucked like wild animals in the small elevator. (m/n) whined for more by spreading his legs, biting on Daisuke's neck, nibbling on his skin and leaving marks all over his flushed neck.

Cumming into the (h/c), Daisuke pushed his thighs against the wall, fully spreading (m/n) open, the rim of his hole stretched as it throbbed around the ravenette's dick, massaging it and swallowing it whole. (m/n) no longer held back his voice, openly crying and moaning like a bitch in heat, fully accepting the gas into his system. Daisuke did a long time ago.

The ravenette breathed in (m/n)'s scent in his neck, inhaling before hovering over the (h/c)'s neck with his lips, experimentally kissing it all over. (m/n) bit his lower lip, gazing at the ravenette as he was still held in an embarrassing exposed position.

A pink tongue pressed against (m/n)'s Adam's apple, lapping it up with spit as he bit the skin with his fangs, breaking it. The (h/c) squirmed, mewling in Daisuke's hold. "Stop teasing me..." He muttered, his gaze elsewhere.

Black eyes scan (m/n)'s face before his right hand softly pulled his chin to make eye contact. Daisuke carefully leaned forward, his breath mixing in with (m/n)'s as he leaned in closer and closer, the tips of their noses touching. The (h/c) peered, his eyes moving left and right before stopping, gently blinking as he stared at the face in front of him.

Slowly, Daisuke's face moved lower, his lips brushing against (m/n)'s before full-on pressing them together. The (h/c) closed his eyes, relishing in the soft kiss as he felt his body relaxed in Daisuke's hold.

A swipe at his teeth and (m/n) opened his mouth, Daisuke eager to tie their tongues together, mashing them and coating them with saliva. Drool seeped out of the corner of Daisuke's mouth, he shoved his tongue against (m/n)'s gums, teeth and his palate.

They both ignored the announcement of the intercom as Daisuke lowered them to the floor. (m/n) wrapped his arms around the ravenette's neck, pulling him in closer and Daisuke tilted his head to obtain more access to the (h/c)'s delicious mouth.

The mood changed instantly, even with the gas dissipating, they were still going at it, both on their knees and Daisuke thrusting up into (m/n)'s bottom as he stationed himself behind the (h/c) whose top had been pulled off by Daisuke, exposing his chest. (m/n) moved himself as well, bouncing against Daisuke's thighs, impaling himself over and over, his head turned behind as he continued making out sloppily with the ravenette.

Passionate gasps tore through the small space of the elevator, especially from the (h/c) every time Daisuke thrusted a little too harsh, driving the tip of his cock into the bundle of nerves that drove (m/n) insane, making him see stars just from that small wet touch. Daisuke couldn't stop cumming in (m/n)'s ass. It was so addicting. It wasn't much different from a woman's but (m/n) was so incredible in his eyes.

Fingers rubbed and twisted (m/n)'s nipples, making the latter broke contact from Daisuke's face, a string of spit breaking as the (h/c)'s body shivered when the ravenette pressed his fingers harder. (m/n) jerkily shoved his ass down, tightening himself on Daisuke's cock, the ravenette gasped out and buried his face into the (h/c)'s shoulders as he immediately spilled cum in (m/n)'s already filled hole.

White semen dripped out onto the floor beneath them, (m/n) moving up and down shallowly on Daisuke's cock, teasing him. The (h/c) wanted more. Daisuke was close to passing out. Tiredly, he fell backwards, lying on the tile floor of the elevator. (m/n) whined as he turned around and crawled over the ravenette.

"Mmm are you done already?" (m/n) complained feverishly. Daisuke's cock was still hard, aphrosodiac working overtime but the owner could barely feel his hips anymore. "...I'm sleepy." He croaked out to which (m/n) frowned.

Daisuke flinched when he felt a tongue swiped across the bulb of his cock. (m/n) ran his tongue up until he reached the tip, sucking on the precious mushroom, licking the slit fervently. He released with a pop as he straddled the ravenette.

Nodding eagerly, he cried out for the (h/c) when his dick was enveloped in a plush warmth. (m/n) grinned lewdly, moving his hips side to side, clearly enjoying the joystick in his ass before he propped himself up with his hands and began to bounce on Daisuke's large cock.

His loud moans resonated in the small space as he threw his head back in pleasure, using Daisuke's penis like a warm dildo. Eyes twitching, his face was covered in sweat, his chin coated with a thin layer of drool and his anus was painted with thinning precum over and over again.

Daisuke's hands reached behind (m/n) and squeezed his plump ass, massaging and pulling at those soft cheeks. He slapped the (h/c)'s butt, earning a whorish moan, as he shamelessly thrusted himself up into (m/n). "C'mon- mmff! Just a bit more- mnggahh!"

Slaps of wet skin reverberated faster as Daisuke continuously smacked the (h/c)'s ass, rubbing his palm over the spot before hitting it again. (m/n) rode the ravenette harder, pressing down harshly, feeling the pit in his stomach burn intensely as he brought his hips up to clench on Daisuke's tip. Repeating the same motion for god knows how long before he came, squirting watery semen on Daisuke's abs.

The ravenette moved his hands to (m/n)'s hips, holding him in place as he pounded up into the (h/c)'s asshole from below, riding out (m/n)'s orgasm who cried out from overstimulation. He groaned and focused on chasing his own high as he slammed himself in and out of (m/n) until he felt himself tipping over the edge.

Daisuke came one last time, although his cum gushed out halfway through his thrust but he persevered and continued humping the (h/c) all while cumming for ten seconds straight.

Both paused, catching their breath before (m/n) collapsed on top of Daisuke, the latter wrapping his arms protectively around the (h/c) as he adjusted himself, making sure he pulled out and patted the (h/c)'s head before promptly passing out on the elevator floor.

(m/n) was still awake, his hands laying on Daisuke's chest as he stared at nothing, his mind blank and his balls empty, although his ass was filled. His eyes widened as he heard the familliar 'ding' of an elevator as he turned back to see the doors opening, revealing the garage they had came from earlier.

"Daisuke wake up! It's open!" He shook the ravenette in an attempt to wake him up but the latter only groaned and continued to remain in his dreamless slumber. (m/n) frowned as he hurriedly pried himself away Daisuke's strong hold.

He quickly dressed himself to the best of his abilities and donned on Daisuke's clothes onto the ravenette, not wanting him to get caught in a naked manner. Fixing his shoes, he collected himself and avoided the wet spots and quickly exited the elevator, wincing in every two steps he took.

With a final glance back to Daisuke, (m/n) hurriedly left the area, reminding himself not to use that same elevator ever again.

"(m/n)! Someone's looking for you."

The (h/c) looked up from his cubicle as he stood and approached his supervisor, the one who had called for him earlier. It had been two days since the incident. (m/n) lied to his boss, saying that he had overslept and took a sick day the next morning, not wanting to run into any weird shenanigans ever again. Especially the ravenette.

He tried asking his coworkers about some mysterious lift that's possessed by a sex demon but all he received was recommendations to a psychologist.

Stepping into a meeting room, guided by his supervisor, he was ushered inside and was immediately left alone, not noticing the other person in the room. "Hey! What's that for?" (m/n) pulled the door knob, knocking on the wooden surface.

"It's for me. I asked them to."

(m/n) froze, remembering the familliar voice. The voice he fucked two days ago in that really weird elevator. The same person he left alone, lying on the floor in a desperate attempt to save his own face.

"It wasn't hard to convince my father to search for you, you might know him. He's the CEO after all." Daisuke shrugged, playfully pulling the (h/c)'s tie, twirling it around his finger. He paused and smiled at (m/n).

"I miss you."

The (h/c) didn't know what to say and he opted to turn himself back around, not facing the ravenette as he tugged on the knob much more aggresively. Daisuke laughed as he pulled (m/n), who screeched and squirmed, into a hug.

"I wanna take you out, (m/n)! Even though we already skipped a couple of steps, I'd love for us to go on a date."

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

Oml i love it if the reader is a tad bit sassy or just an untouchable (not shy) beauty HEHE

OR WHEN LIKE THE TOP MOANS??? LIKE U WAN ME THAT BAD?? HEHEHHEEH

this the same daisuke that was in my ybc gangbang fic btw hoho and by Office AU means that this is not their official like storyline that i want, it's just an AU where they fucked in a horny elevator

I would describe Daisuke Yuichi as someone who's rich AF, daddy's boy (as in father is so protective of him), nice and polite (although everyone has a dark side 😉), kinda needy and demanding but in a "i dont want to say it so im just hinting it until u say yes" kinda way. The only character i would describe that looks like him the most (hair term) is kashima yuu💀. I hope u look forward to see him more!

more of daisuke yuichi! ☾

aftermath , profile

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amaranthine-apollo · 1 month ago

Text

Late Night Studying

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Fandom: Arcane

Genre: Fluff/ Modern AU

Warning(s): slightly suggestive, making out, not proofread whatsoever

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“Why are you still studying, Vik?”

An orange hue flickered inside of the room, painting the walls with its warmth as the flame that it was produced by swayed lazily in an unpredictable fashion. Your fingers pressed against the ceramic rim of the mug in your hands, the contents inside hot enough to make the pads of your fingers prickle as they lingered.

Your footsteps were quiet as you stepped forward and steadily approached the brunette who seemed to not notice your presence- even with your verable intrusion. As you halted right behind him you repositioned the cup in your hand and gently placed it beside him, the coffee sloshing around ever so slightly as it touched the table.

Cocking your head to the side you focused on the man’s face and you couldn’t stop how your eyes softened in endearment as you studied his features. His lips were pouted ever so slightly, something that more than likely went unnoticed by himself. Eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed as he digested the information before him you couldn’t help but feel like getting a little bit closer.

“Vik, I know you can hear me. Just take a break for a little bit, yeah?” You breathed out, fingers slowly gliding over his nape.

Fingers entangling themselves with the short fluffed up hair on the back of his neck you felt a spark of pride flicker inside your chest as he closed his eyes and began to let himself relax into your touch. Lips parting ever so slightly a light sigh fled his mouth as you moved your hand upward, fingering raking against his scalp in a languid manner.

He sat up just a tad bit straighter in his chair, no longer hunched over his work as he rolled his shoulders and neck ever so slightly to work out the stiff kinks that ailed him. Immediately after he fell back against the chair, eyes fluttering open as he flicked his gaze to you.

“You know our exams are tomorrow, yes? I don’t care if you wish to fail but I for one will not.” He protested weakly which only elicited a snort from you.

“Oh please, I’m not going to fail, that's Vi and Jayce’s job. I could never take that away from them.” Finding humor in your words, he let out a small chuckle.

“Plus,” you began, your other hand moving to cup the right side of his face. “You’ve been studying nonstop for the past three hours. If you haven’t gotten the material down by now then that’s on you.”

It didn’t go unnoticed by you how he leaned into your palm, practically melting into your warmth as his eyelashes fluttered again. He always looked so pretty and the way the lighting was practically making him glow you felt yourself staring harder than you meant to. Especially at his amber eyes which kept the candles low flame swirling inside of them.

“Mm, I suppose you may be right..” He trailed off, pursing his lips out as his gaze fell towards anywhere but you.

“I know I’m right, you stupid dork.” Unable to keep your smile from cracking wider on your face you let your thumb sweep against his cheekbone, feeling how his own heat slowly crept up into your palm.

Feeling how he stiffened ever so slightly underneath your touch you leaned down enough so you could press your lips against his jawline. He faltered momentarily as a shaky breath came out and he leaned his head back slightly, almost instinctively. With your own eyes moving up to study his face he looked at you quickly before letting his eyelids shut over his eyes.

Taking that as a sign of approval to continue you peppered his skin with soft kisses, occasionally nipping at his neck lightly just to get a soft moan or squirming as a reward. Fingers grazing over his jaw you allowed one to rest on his shoulder whilst the other occupied itself playing with his hair absentmindedly.

“Please, look at me.” He gasped out, voice awfully quiet and you felt your stomach flutter knowing exactly why he sounded so shy.

Doing so you pulled your face away from his neck and stared at him properly. He seemed entranced in a way, his own hand coming up to cup your face gently, fingers tracing over your jaw. You felt goosebumps form on your skin and he simply stared at you- so many words not spoken were still portrayed perfectly in his eyes.

“Viktor, are you just gonna keep staring at me or-“

A needy kiss was what you were met with, and the change of pace had your mind reeling. His lips locked with yours and as one of his hands moved to the back of your head you felt your legs threaten to buckle beneath you.

To save yourself from falling to the floor in a heap you lowered yourself to sit on the same chair Viktor currently was in. Basically straddling the brunette as you squished yourself onto the small seat his hand that formerly was on your shoulder found itself grabbing underneath your thigh to stabilize you.

Moaning against his lips as you settled down fully and sat on top of his lap he only took that as his sign to go further. His tongue teased your bottom lip, eagerly waiting for you to give him access to your mouth.

Caving rather quickly as heat swam inside your stomach which was tying itself in knots he moaned hotly into your mouth as he tilted his head further to the aide to deepen the kiss. His tongue rolled over yours, savoring how you tasted just so addictingly delicious as he practically devoured you in his desperation.

“Stay.. Stay still.” He murmured against your lips, and you could hear how his voice quivered with desire he barely could hold back.

Arms wrapped around his shoulders you clung to him hard, chest pressed up against his own like you were trying to mold yourselves together. And whilst he explored your mouth you couldn’t help but crumple by how needy he truly was being. How when his tongue rolled into your mouth just the right way you squeezed your thighs together and curled your toes.

You’d almost forgotten you needed to breathe if it weren’t for your lungs suddenly burning for oxygen, and you hastily broke the kiss off as you gasped for air. He was in no better shape, panting heavily with his face painted crimson. His eyes were hazy and half lidded and he looked at you from beneath his lashes.

Biting at your bottom lip gently you ran your finger over his own, feeling how they were glossed over with your mixed saliva. You could feel the kiss still linger on your lips and from how his own were red slightly swollen you knew he still felt it as well.

“Some warning would’ve been nice.” You jested, a little grin on your face as he rolled his eyes.

“Sorry for not being able to help myself around you.” His response dripped of sarcasm and you sighed in amusement at it. “Tell me, was this the reason you came in here?”

“I’d made you some coffee but you weren’t paying attention so I had to get you to focus on me somehow.” Letting your eyes move towards the cup on the desk, his own following suit.

Perking up slightly at the sight he grabbed the mug carefully, not wanting it to spill over the edge by moving it too fast. The scent wafted into the air which caused the pleasing aroma of mint and creamer to flood your nose. He hummed in happiness before taking a sip, allowing the taste to linger on his tongue before setting it back down.

“Tastes almost as good as you, lásko.” He purred out, accent awfully heavy at the end which made you tense up and look away as heat rose up on your face.

“Shut up.” The words fell from your lips quickly and he let the corners of his mouth twitch up in a pleased smile.

“How about you make me, drahý?”

#arcane #arcane league of legends #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #arcane writing #arcane fandom #x reader #fluff

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hongcherry · 5 months ago

Text

on my mind || l.c (m)

The handsome stranger at the pool gives you an experience you won't forget.

💦 Pairing: idol!Chan (Dino) x stranger!Reader (f) 💦 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); smut (!!!), fluff, some angst; idol au, strangers to lovers au 💦 Warnings: Pet names (baby, pretty girl, beautiful), public/pool sex (bc of those pictures), unprotected sex (be safe!), no prep (be safe again!), bigDick!Chan, breast play, lowkey sad ending 💦 Word Count: 3.4k 💦 Author’s Note: Oh Lee Chan... How dare you do this to me 😩 (and ty @okiedokrie for beta'ing!!! 🥰)

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty!

“You know you’ve been staring for the past thirty minutes, right?”

Your gaze snaps up from your book. The handsome stranger stares down at you, water droplets dripping from his hair and down his sculpted body. You force your eyes to stay on his, but all you want to do is follow the water south.

You had hoped to be more discreet earlier, but supposedly you failed.

“S-Sorry, I thought you were someone I knew,” you lie.

The man’s lips tilt in a knowing smirk. His expression fans the heat in your belly.

“Am I?” he questions.

“No,” you reply and avert your focus on your book again. “Sorry.”

You expect him to leave, but he still blocks the sun from your view. When you realize he’s not moving, you look up again.

He beams a charming smile.

“What brings you here?” he asks.

You rest your book on your lap, keeping a finger between the pages as a bookmark.

“Paid for the pool, might as well use it,” you chuckle.

He laughs and glances back at the water. “You’re not really using it, though.”

You bite your lip. You were going to, but seeing the stranger and his friends play in it, made you want to watch rather than join. However, his friends had just left and now it was only you two.

“I used it earlier,” you lie again.

He cocks his head to the side. “Do you always lie to strangers?”

“What?” Your eyes widen; your heart races.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asks, abruptly switching topics. His pretty smile falters as if realizing his friendliness has taken a turn.

You sit up and shake your head. “No! You’re not. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says and looks away for the first time. He glides a hand over his hair. The muscles in his arms bulge at the motion, and you force your thoughts to stay PG.

“I should head inside. It was nice meeting you,” he says, barely making eye contact.

You place your book down and rise to your feet. You tentatively reach out and brush your fingertips against his forearm to stop him from leaving.

He turns to you fully again.

“I’m Yn,” you introduce, hoping that will make him stay.

He gives you a tiny smile, answering sheepishly. “Chan.”

Is he shy now? You almost giggle at his change in attitude.

“What brings you here?” you reuse his question.

“Work,” he replies.

You glance around at the upscale hotel. “Must be a nice job.”

“It is,” he says.

Sensing he still feels nervous, you glance at the pool. “Join me for a swim?”

His brown eyes grow. For a second you think he’ll decline, but he nods and walks to the stairs. He takes the steps carefully and when he’s at the bottom, he holds out a hand.

You don’t need his guidance, but you accept his offer—if only to feel his strong hand around yours.

You let out a small gasp at the cold water. He chuckles as he watches you tense up.

He steps toward you and runs his hands over your arms carefully, not wanting to overstep a boundary. However, he must feel how you feel. There’s something between you two that makes you want to skip a few imaginary steps from strangers to friendship to maybe something more.

Your lips pull in a smile as he warms you.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

He nods then slowly steps away. He looks around; his sight snags on a volleyball floating at the other end.

“Want to play?” he asks, gesturing to the ball.

“Okay,” you reply. Hopefully doing so will alleviate some of the timidness.

Chan swims to retrieve it. As he does so, you sink into the water to get used to the temperature. You take the moment to admire Chan’s back muscles. They ripple with every movement he makes, and you wonder how they’d feel under your hands.

When he turns and catches you staring, he smiles. You glance away, embarrassed at having been caught.

“I kinda liked having your eyes on me,” he says playfully when he nears.

You tuck your chin down and fidget under the water.

He chuckles and taps a finger under your chin to get your attention.

“Ready to play?” he questions.

Eager to change the topic, you nod and stand.

Chan’s gaze follows the water rolling down your body. You’re glad to see he feels the same way for you.

You reach out to grab the ball and Chan snaps his eyes up, only now realizing he was staring. It’s his turn to look embarrassed.

Granting him the same courtesy, you let the moment go.

“First to ten wins?” you ask.

Chan swallows the lump in his throat and nods.

You take a few steps back before you toss the ball in the air. With your hands clasped, you hit it with your forearms, sending it in his direction.

Chan mimics your pose and bumps it back to you; however, it falls short and you miss it.

“First point goes to me,” Chan smiles. He pushes the water to make the ball float to you.

“Isn’t it your turn?” you wonder and grab the ball.

He shrugs as if to say it doesn’t matter. You nod and toss it in the air before you hit it.

You and Chan play until it’s four to two.

Chan eyes the ball in the air and then hits it with his hand.

You move to the side and hit the ball, though, it goes more up than out.

Chan rushes to it. He reaches out to volley it back but slips on the pool’s tiles. You don’t have enough time to react as his body collides with yours and slams you both under the water.

He scrambles to stand and lifts you by your sides to surface you.

You inhale a breath as soon as you can.

“I’m so sorry!” he exclaims, holding you tight in case you might fall back under.

A mixture of laughter and gasping comes from you. It’s probably not a pretty sound, but Chan smiles anyway. The worry etched on his face slowly fades.

“Does this mean I won?” you ask between giggles.

Chan laughs and nods. His wet hair sticks to his forehead and his torso shines under the sunlight. He’s beaming that handsome smile, the one that reads happiness and confidence. You really like his smile.

“Only because I’m disqualified for body slamming you,” he replies.

You shrug as if it doesn't matter. “It was fun.”

Chan raises his brows. “Being body-slammed?”

Another shrug. “It didn’t hurt.”

“I’m glad,” Chan says.

“So, what do I win?” you ask playfully.

It’s not until Chan squeezes your waist that you remember he’s still holding onto you. However, you don’t pull away. His touch feels nice.

“What do you want?” he questions in return.

You take the tiniest step forward.

“Something unforgettable.”

Chan’s eyes flicker to your lips.

“I can do that,” he whispers confidently. Then not even a second later, his lips are on yours.

Your mouths move in a heated kiss, tongues already sliding against each other. You’re quick to meet the other halfway to connect your bodies. Your soft breasts push against his hard chest.

Chan’s hands glide up and down your sides, thumbs brushing the side of your breasts. Meanwhile, your arms wrap around his neck, a hand caressing the back of his head to keep him close to you.

Needing to feel him more, you grab one of his hands and place it on one of your breasts.

Chan moans into the kiss and automatically squeezes them. He slips his hand beneath your swim top to feel you directly.

You pull from the kiss with a gasp and a moan.

Chan takes the opportunity to slide your top up, gathering it under your arms. He marvels at your exposed chest and cups your breasts in his strong hands. He pushes them up, rolling the flesh in his palms before pinching your nipples.

You mewl at the pleasurable pain, which causes Chan to smirk. He alternates between massaging your breasts and twisting your nipples between his fingers. You can feel how much he wants you against your body. It makes you eager to feel him inside you.

You grab his hands and gently pull them off. He frowns but doesn’t say anything. After giving him a reassuring smile, you lean forward to peck his lips.

Your kisses trail south, along his jawline, down the column of his neck, and in between the valley of his pecks. You take a detour to flick your tongue against one of his nipples, eliciting a small moan from Chan.

Your tongue plays with it before moving to the other and repeating your actions before continuing downward.

Chan watches attentively as you trace his defined muscles with your tongue. You ignore the slight chlorine taste as you lick his abs, tongue dipping in the divots of his body. You’d be ashamed of yourself if you weren’t so aroused.

Though, Chan doesn’t seem bothered at all as he stares down with darkened eyes and an open mouth. You kiss just above his swim trunks, a grin taking over your mouth.

“Shit, come here, pretty girl,” he mutters and pulls you up.

The disappointment of almost sucking his cock evaporates as soon as he kisses you roughly. He leads you both to the shallower part of the pool.

When he comes up for air, he takes a quick glance around. The area is empty.

He reaches out to grab a flat inflatable lounger that floats by.

“Get on,” he instructs softly and holds it in place.

You carefully ascend the floatie. Thankfully, the trees in the area block the sun from your eyes when you lay.

“Move down more,” he says, still holding it tight so it doesn’t flip from under you. “Wrap your legs around me.”

You scoot lower until your ass is toward the bottom of the lounger, legs around Chan’s waist to keep steady. You suck in a breath when his hard cock brushes your clothed center.

“You ever done this before?” you wonder, taking in your position. The height of the water makes the floatie align perfectly with his pelvis.

He chuckles. “Nope, so if this goes horribly wrong, I apologize in advance.”

You laugh. “I forgive you in advance.”

Chan grins and moves one hand to circle your clit while the other gropes your breasts. Your body jerks at his touch. The fast motions against your clit combined with the rough squeezes of your breasts heighten your arousal.

“I need to feel you, Chan,” you whimper.

“You are feeling me,” he teases, hands moving a little rougher to indicate what he’s referring to.

You whine pathetically as you buck your hips. “Inside me.”

Chan’s movements slow down.

“Okay, let me,” he begins to say as he trails a hand lower to your core.

You shake your head, grabbing his hand. You know he means to prep you, but you’re too eager.

“Just want your cock,” you beg. “Please.”

A smirk forms on his lips. He slowly takes his hands off your body, and you pull him closer with your legs, thinking he’s about to leave you.

“Easy there, beautiful,” he says and rubs your thighs comfortingly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Once his words register, you nod sheepishly and ease your grip around him. Smiling, he tugs his swim trunks down enough to free his cock. Your pussy gets wetter at the sight of him.

“Let me know if you want me to stop, okay?” he asks and pulls your swim bottoms to the side. His focus flickers between your eyes and your dripping core.

“Okay,” you answer, eager for him to fill you.

Chan carefully inches closer and then gathers some of your arousal with his tip. You hold your breath in anticipation.

When Chan’s tip finally slips inside, your mouth falls open with a gasp.

“Fuck,” he mutters, sliding in gradually. You’re so tight around him.

“Open up for me, baby,” he coos and starts to rub your clit again. “Let me fill this pussy all the way.”

Your hands clutch the sides of the inflatable lounger. His girth stretches you in a way you haven’t experienced before. You focus on the circular motions against your clit, easing your body and letting Chan enter you easier.

“There you go, pretty girl,” he praises, pushing in the last of his cock.

“So big,” you mumble. You shift slightly and moan at the sensation. Chan’s circles on your bud falter.

“And you’re taking me so well,” he says with a smile.

He stays sheathed inside you for a minute. Your hips buck every so often from him stimulating your clit. Each movement makes you whine or moan from feeling Chan’s cock rub against your walls.

“Can I move?” he questions; there’s no pressure in his voice.

You nod.

Chan rearranges his hands to hook under your thighs. His palms the top of your thighs to ease any nerves you may have. Though, you’re not nervous at all. You may have just met Chan, but you know he’ll never hurt you. He’s been attentive to your needs and your comfort since he first spoke to you.

Slowly, Chan glides out halfway. The drag of his cock feels heavenly.

Then, he pushes back in.

He does this motion slowly, making sure you get used to the feeling of his thick cock stretching your walls.

“Faster, C-Chan,” you say. Every glide feds the fire in your belly. Whatever pain or discomfort you were feeling has disappeared. In its place is a lust that needs to be quenched.

“You sure?” he asks.

You nod. “Fuck me.”

Chan curses under his breath. His grip on your thighs tightens and his pace gradually picks up.

Before you know it, he’s pounding inside. He uses your legs as leverage, eyes hooded with hunger. Occasionally, his gaze moves up to watch your tits bounce with each slam of his body. The water laps around you both; some of it sloshes over the sides of the pool. The sounds of the water splashing and his skin hitting yours make everything feel sexier. You’re sure this looks like a scene from a porno, but that fact just turns you on more.

“Try to be quieter,” Chan says after a string of loud moans comes from you.

His suggestion barely registers in your mind. “I’ll tr—oh fuck.”

Chan chuckles and slows down. He trails a hand up your body to caress your face. His thumb glides along your bottom lip, pulling it down before letting it snap back in place.

When he goes to do it again, you open your mouth wider and suck his thumb into your mouth.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, sight locked on your puckered lips.

Chan moves his other hand to grip your hip. He begins to transition from powerful thrusts to sensual glides. He rolls his hips expertly against yours. Although they’re not fast motions, the slow slides in and out have your eyes rolling back. You hadn’t expected him to know how to move like this, but it’s obvious he’s skilled. You briefly wonder where the skill stems from. Has he had lots of practice having sex, or did he move his body in other ways a lot? His smooth motions remind you of a talented dancer.

“You feel so good,” he rasps and pulls his thumb from your mouth. He wipes your salvia along your lips, making them shine.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” he asks, increasing his speed.

You nod, a choked cry escaping you when Chan connects his thumb to your clit again. He rubs it harshly while rocking into your cunt.

You bite your lip, trying to keep quiet, but it’s difficult when Chan’s fucking you so well.

Your legs tighten around Chan as the fire grows. It builds and builds until it’s too much to bear. Your walls flutter around his cock and before you can warn Chan, you’re cumming hard.

Chan continues to circle your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm. He only removes his hand when you squirm from his bruising touch.

“Think you can hold out a little longer, pretty girl?” he asks.

In a haze, you nod.

Chan unwraps your legs, hooking his arms under your knees and lifting you ever so slightly. The new angle lets him go a little deeper.

You clutch the floatie and hope you don’t pop the damn thing.

Chan’s hips snap into you fast and hard, driving you absolutely wild. More moans spill from his mouth as he nears his climax. You think he sounds so pretty, but you don’t stay on the thought for long. It’s hard to focus.

“Oh fuck,” he groans and pulls out quickly. He pumps his cock, abs clenching with furrowed brows.

Soon, your tummy is covered in white. Chan’s head rolls back as he releases his load over your body. You and Chan stay still, panting and coming down from your highs together.

Chan takes in a long inhale and finally looks down. His eyes scan the mess he made on you and your fucked-out expression.

He laughs softly. He tucks himself back in his swim trunks then reaches out to fix both pieces of your swimsuit. Afterwards, his hands swipe at the cum, gently cleaning off your body.

Chan leans down to wrap his arms around you. He carefully lifts you off the floatie and onto the pool floor. He keeps his arms in place as he stares with a big smile.

“How’s that for unforgettable?” he asks.

You lean into him, hands massaging his shoulders and neck. You feel dazed and overjoyed.

“I fear you may haunt my dreams,” you reply teasingly.

“Haunt?” He chuckles. “Wouldn’t I be blessing them instead?”

You laugh, shrugging. “Depends on if I can see you again.”

Chan’s smile suddenly turns into a sad one.

“I don’t know,” he replies.

“I can’t get your number?” you ask, heart filling with lead and weighing it down. You just met the man but the thought of never seeing him again cracks your heart.

He rubs his lips together in thought. Though before he replies, the sound of an opening door interrupts the conversation.

Two men peek their heads out. From your position, Chan’s back faces them.

“There you are,” one of them says. His smile is as bright as the sun.

Chan twists in your arms to see who it is. He must recognize the men. The aforementioned people drift their gaze to you. You can tell they want to tease Chan, but they don’t. They’re probably saving it for later.

“Do we have a schedule?” Chan asks.

“No,” the other with glasses says. “We just thought you were coming back with us, but no one’s seen you.”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” Chan replies.

“Don’t stay out too long,” the first says, a teasing lilt in his voice. “We have an early flight tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I know,” Chan says.

The men give you both a knowing smile, then leave the area.

Chan exhales a deep breath and slips from your hold. He takes your hand, leading you out of the water.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” you ask, trying to hide your disappointment. You do a poor job.

Chan sighs and grabs the towel you had. He wraps it around your body and rubs your hands that hold onto the material.

“Maybe I’ll see you before I go?” he says, but you’re unsure if it’s a wish or a question.

“Maybe,” you say.

Chan cycles through his thoughts before speaking.

“I had a nice time, Yn. I won’t forget you.”

Your heart churns as if you’re going through a breakup. Your eyes quickly dance across his face, attempting to memorize every detail. You get the sense he’s doing the same.

“Me too” is all you say. You also had a nice time, and you definitely won’t forget this man. Not only because of the mind-blowing sex but also because he seems like a person you’d want in your life.

Chan leans in and kisses you. Unlike before, this one is slower. He takes his time moving his lips and gliding his tongue. There’s passion behind his movements that makes you crave to be more than strangers. This man oozes love, and you wish you could receive it wholeheartedly.

Maybe things wouldn’t have worked out, but something in your gut says even if you were to be loved by him for only a little while, it would’ve been worth it.

Chan would’ve shown you how it would feel to be truly adored.

A/N: rip the contaminated pool 🥲

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bvidzsoo · 4 months ago

Text

Cold Red Iron

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

⎊ Warning: suggestive speech and content, cursing, violence, weapons, stabbing, blood, hostage situation, mentions of domestic violence (not against MC) ⎊ Word count: 27.6k ⎊ Rating: mature, nsfw ⎊ Genre: Iron Man!AU, humour, Marvel references, superheroes!au, workplace!au, they can't stand each other but end up working together!au ⎊ Summary: Each day you wake up wondering what you did in a previous life to deserve your prick of a boss, who is also a womanizer and owns a company that made him a millionaire. But the job pays well, and there's Mrs. Bae too, so you suck it up. But one unfortunate event at the metro station seems to change your life for the better (?).

A/N: I actually thought I could make this oneshot 15~18k, who's the clown here now? Hii, hello, welcome back my lovelies to a completely random and uncalled for Marvel oneshot that is humorous (I hope so) but also deals with serious topics. For the sake of the story, Mingi is aged up and is closer to his thirties and our MC is around 25-ish, though unspecified, and Mrs. Bae, who is Irene/Bae Joohyun, is aged up a lot lmao, so yes, Yunho is younger than everyone ~oops. I think this is all I wanted to say, sorry for mistakes 'cuz some always somehow slip through, and if I missed tagging any warning lmk. I appreciate your feedback lots, so let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading ^^ divider

🕸️(you can find my Spiderman!Yunho oneshot here)

S. Industries, the name of the tallest building in our city is owned by possibly one of the city’s most affluent men. From engineering and producing weapons that are shipped out to other countries with masses, to fabricating gadgets and small electronic devices that have Mr. Song’s artificial intelligent assistant implemented in them, to joining a collaboration with Mercedes-Benz to produce a prototype never heard of before, S. Industries seemed to do a little bit of everything. Engineers of the best calibre fought to get a spot in the team and those fired often found themselves lost and devastated by their predicament. Smart and important people worked here, people who had a vision and had set their minds on changing the world. Mr. Song, the embarrassingly rich owner of the enterprise, seemed to have flamboyant and insane ideas often, yet, they somehow always managed to work out in his favour. There was rarely a day where Mr. Song wasn’t on the news or TV, smirking and winking at the cameras as he flirted with the reporters into oblivion—these were the good scenarios because there were days when instead of appearing for his good deeds and world-changing innovations, he appeared in scandalous hypostasizes that had to be fixed by none other than me.

He was exactly the man you’d imagine a young and super-rich CEO would be like. He drank and partied as long as the night lasted, and when dusk came, he’d bring ladies into his bed to satisfy his insatiable needs. No woman lasted long by his side, perhaps because his personality was truly dislikeable or perhaps because he couldn’t keep it in his pants for too long. There had been multiple occasions when security had to escort his screaming exes out while Mr. Song hid away in his office with his tail between his legs and the excuse that he was too busy working, meanwhile, he was busy whining and nursing his hangover. But he also liked to act like he was the bigger and better person in the room, often with his eyebrows furrowed and with disgust on his features as he looked at you above his narrow glasses and judged whatever came out of your mouth. I couldn’t fully understand the women that surrounded me and their desperation to be noticed by the CEO. Despite his very obvious good looks, I always thought his bad personality ruined even the thought of finding him attractive in the true sense of the word—meaning inside out. Sure, for a one-night-stand, the man was probably a perfect partner, but even then, I wouldn’t have wanted to be another body count added to his long and never-ending list so that he can gloat about it to his buddies while they have a beer—or wine, whatever thing these fancy people drink on a night out if they even do those.

And Mr. Song was shameless, he very obviously did not care about the working environment and neither about the fact that there was a power imbalance each time he decided to sleep with one of his employees. I yet had to see the day when it didn’t end up with his temporary partner fired as Mr. Song claimed that he was uncomfortable by their overbearing presence, irritated by the constant attention he got from said employee—or victim, as I liked to call them. The longest an employee he hooked up with managed to continue staying at the firm was two weeks and that one ended on a pretty bad note—she now has a restricting order on her hands, Mr Song doesn’t play around despite his often easy-going façade. I wasn’t one to be quick to judge, but I was thoroughly bothered and disgusted by the lack of care Mr. Song seemingly had towards his female employees, the nonchalance with which he dismissed others never ceased to make my blood boil.

And if it wasn’t enough that he was a womanizer, he was also a jerk to his employees when he so happened to ‘not be in the mood’, which translated to him getting up on the wrong side of the bed and so he had the right to be pissy and offensive to everyone around himself, including his so very sweet secretary that I swore to protect with my whole being. Mrs. Bae was an elderly lady who was in excellent shape and an absolute professional in everything she did, she was so eager to teach me everything I needed to know about administrative work as when I had joined S. Industries, I was still fresh out of college with barely any experience. Mrs. Bae was also very loyal to Mr. Song, for some reason, and she was diligent in her work and spent way too much time at the office, fixing Mr. Song’s messes that shouldn’t have been committed in the first place. But if there was anyone in this goddamn office that had even a little bit of control over Mr. Song, then it sure as hell was Mrs. Bae as she’d often storm inside his office without knocking—disregarding the fact that her boss might be in the midst of unloading his stress, if you know what I mean—and she’d absolutely put him in his place, scrutinizing him as a disappointed mother would with her disobeying child.

But still, that was just Mrs Bae, others weren’t so lucky. If Mr. Song decided he didn’t like you, you were dead meat, nobody would want to associate themselves with you, and oftentimes those employees would resign on their own, aware that the entirety of S. Industries had just rejected them. And this wasn’t all, Mr. Song also spoke with little respect and consideration, eyes often narrowed and eyebrows furrowed as he scowled and interrupted your speech, embarrassing you in front of your colleagues and unjustly dismissing your hard work. He would also laugh if you made a mistake or if your idea was catalogued as not good enough, sending most of his employees into an existential crisis whenever he did this. It was sad, truly, having to watch my colleagues crumble day by day. I, thankfully, had rarely come in direct contact with Mr. Song as I was a mere secretary assistant, but because Mrs. Bae was basically his right hand, I shared the same floor with her and our boss. That, however, meant that despite usually being overlooked by Mr. Song, I got to watch all of his shenanigans unfold, unable to do or say anything.

Working here has definitely taught me patience and Mrs. Bae advised me to just try and ignore Mr. Song unless I had to work with him directly, apparently, there was nothing he hated more than being ignored. He acted like a damn child that was desperate for attention and not like a man with a very serious burden on his hands, with one of the strongest industries in his hands, able to control the outcome of wars even if he so wished. I had yet to see the day Mr. Song acted like a decent human being, compassionate and understanding, kind and less of a prick.

So, knowing all that, you must understand my honest reaction to finding out that Mrs. Bae had fallen so ill that she had to be hospitalized, scaring half of the company to death when she sent us an e-mail. Of course, in true fashion to her, it was worded professionally and she asked us not to worry but to work even harder in her absence, and then she assigned all her subordinates what their respective assignments would be in her absence. When I had reached my name on the list and read that I was to replace her since I knew everything about management and Mr. Song’s schedule, I was pretty much devastated. There was no definite time of when Mrs. Bae would return and that meant that I could be working as her replacement for a day, maybe a week, or even three years. I knew I would barely last one day by Mr. Song’s side, let alone three years. And, because this devastating news called for a cold jug of beer to drown my sorrows in, my poor best friend had been the one to suffer through a drunken night of me going off about my boss, calling him names and describing atrocious ways of how I would bring his demise forth if it were only legal.

But Sooyoung was a good friend, she’s been with me since fifth grade, and she sat through the night and giggled whenever I hiccupped or started speaking too loudly, to the point I had people turning our way as I cursed Mr. Song’s name. She was an angel and a sweetheart as she carried my heavy body home that night, giggling and snapping pictures when I told her I felt like throwing up and that I needed a breather. She called her boyfriend when she realized I wasn’t able to walk anymore, my high heels long abandoned and in my hands as the freezing ground was none of my concerns at that moment as my eyes bore into a billboard that had Mr. Song’s sharp face and sexy smirk displayed.

“You’re the devil!” I was sure my voice was loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood as I stumbled to my feet, pointing a finger at the billboard as Sooyoung spoke on the phone, “I’m going to get you, Song Mingi!”

I huffed and glared at the man’s small and narrowed eyes, shivering when a cold breeze blew past us, “Don’t smirk at me, fucker.”

There was a loud giggle behind me and then the slam of a door and I heard my best friend pocket her phone as two sets of footsteps neared me, “You see that monstrosity? He picks his nose when he thinks nobody is watching, the fucker forgets to turn on the blurring effect to his windows, and I get to see him lazing around his office the whole day, meanwhile, I have to delete articles and call up journalists and beg them not to publish their next issue about how Song Mingi fucked four women and gave them chlamydia or whatever.”

I was sure my words came out jumbled and less clear than they sounded in my head, and I flinched when high-pitched laughter made my ears ring, way higher than Sooyoung’s had ever been. With my head spinning and bile rising in my throat, I swung around and narrowed my eyes at my best friend’s boyfriend. He laughed a lot, loudly mostly, and if I found it cute sober, I absolutely loathed it while drunk, “Shut up, fucker!”

“Or you’ll beat me up like you’ll beat up our boss?” He teased with a mischievous glint in his eyes and I snorted, pulling my shoulders back as I banged on my chest.

“I sure will!” I called loudly and the guy just started giggling again, meanwhile, Sooyoung just shook her head with an amused expression on her face.

“Let’s get her inside the car, Wooyoung, I don’t want her to catch a cold.”

“Why is she even so drunk?”

“Mrs. Bae is really sick and Y/N is to replace her.”

“Oh, so she’ll be finally working with Mr. Song directly?”

“Exactly.”

I groaned and bared my teeth at nothing in particular as Wooyoung and Sooyoung came up on both sides of me to hold me up and walk me towards Wooyoung’s running car, that fucker, he was an engineer at S. Industries and he was rich enough to afford himself a really nice car. A Mercedes-Benz, to be exact, thanks to the collaboration the two companies had going on. For once, I hoped Mr. Song’s project went terribly and I’d have to answer the calls with a smile on my face and then feign mock disappointment when I’d relay the message to Mr. Song. Surely the failure of one project wouldn’t bring the downfall of S. Industries.

“Well, Y/N, at least there’ll be a raise in the paycheck this month.” A particularly hard slap to my back had the bile in my throat rising until it wasn’t inside my mouth anymore at all, but on the sidewalk instead, as Wooyoung shrieked and Sooyoung just sighed, holding my hair back for me as I doubled over and violently emptied the contents of my stomach.

That whole ordeal was three days ago, on a Friday evening, when Mrs. Bae delivered the devastating news. Now, it was Monday and my muscles were tense and my teeth were gritting as I exited the metro and took the escalator, feet already aching from the blisters my other heels left on them. I seriously wanted to die, but Wooyoung was right for once in his life, I would at least get a raise for filling in for Mrs. Bae, but at what cost? The only joy I could find in the horrible day I had ahead of me was my iced caramel macchiato in my hands and the fact that the metro was right next to the building I used to love working at up until three days ago. Higher paycheck or not, I found myself wondering whether it was worth it if I had to work directly with Mr. Song.

I plastered on a smile despite my sour mood as I entered the intimidatingly tall building and greeted the receptionists, who apparently knew of my predicament as they sported matching looks of pity. If there were other women who didn’t fall for Mr. Song’s charming persona, excluding Mrs. Bae who was too old to entertain such a young boy and was busy scolding him whenever she could, then in the receptionists I knew I could trust. One of them had a bad run-in with Mr. Song and ever since the two stayed far away from him, sharing my displeasure whenever I came down to have lunch with them. They were sisters and foreigners, yet their knowledge of the language oftentimes surpassed mine, never failing to take me off guard as I watched them with a grin on my lips. They were both in college and apparently, a really pricey one if they resorted to working at S. Industries.

I scanned my badge at the entrance gate and nodded at the security guard, Chanyeol, who looked more like a club bouncer than a security guard at a high-tech company, closely surveyed and littered with cameras in every nook and cranny. The elevator ride up to the top floor was rather lacklustre and filled with silence beside the generic music coming through the speakers, and I basked in the ignorance the engineers exerted towards me, nothing out of the ordinary. But when they got off on their floor, I found myself fidgeting as I still had ten more floors up, turning around to check myself out in the huge mirror. It wasn’t even my first day here, yet I felt jittery and questioned my choice of clothing despite it being what I usually wore. A black pencil skirt that stuck to my frame uncomfortably paired with a white off-shoulder blouse that was tucked inside, a dainty belt bringing the look together nicely. My black high-heels weren’t as uncomfortable as the ones I had worn on Friday—they were still new—and I couldn’t wait to sit down and step out of them. I have pulled my hair in a bun and strategically pulled out front pieces that I curled, framing my face if I didn’t want to look like an egg due to the oval shape of my face. My makeup was soft and natural looking except for the red lipstick, and I found myself playing with the small cross pendant around my neck, waiting for the elevator doors to open as I reached the top floor.

The hall, my little office, Mr. Song’s huge office, and the small kitchen were all dark, signalling that I was the first one to arrive at work. Of course, that was no surprise as there were days when Mr. Song would come in just a few hours before it was time to go home for his employees, and then he’d usually find something faulty with everything, thus forcing everyone to stay after hours. I hoped today wasn’t a day like that because I was sure I’d end up fired by the evening, something I couldn’t afford as I had just moved to my new apartment and the rent was rather high, but the area was good and it was a lot closer to my job, so I couldn’t complain. I switched on the lights as I walked towards Mrs. Bae’s desk, now mine until she returned, and I hung my coat on the hanger, placing my purse on the floor just next to it. I powered on the desk computer and headed for the kitchen to prepare coffee for Mr. Song. I had decided to take this burden off Mrs. Bae’s shoulders back when I had joined the company, so I knew his preference by heart, unfortunately.

I watched the coffee machine with unfocused eyes as I ran through in my mind the schedule I had closely studied yesterday. Mr. Song had a meeting before lunch with the engineers about the prototype they were developing, which could take quite a few hours if he was in a pissy mood, and after lunch he had another meeting with the company they were collaborating with, and since that was out of our hands I couldn’t estimate the length of the meeting. Before his first meeting, however, I had to print the monthly expenses and bring them to him, and sometime along the day—preferably before lunch, was what Mrs. Bae’s note had said—I had to fix a date and time with a local magazine for an editorial shoot they had been discussing with my boss for months now. The thought made me roll my eyes and I switched the coffee machine off, grabbing the oat milk out of the fridge and brown sugar from the cupboard. The coffee was just a little above half of the cup and I filled it up with the milk, putting in five teaspoonfuls of sugar. I wondered whether Mr. Song would realize I had mixed up his milk on purpose while making his coffee—since he’s lactose intolerant—if I ever got the courage to sabotage my boss even if it was silly. But today wasn’t that day and I grabbed a tray and placed five cookies on a small plate before I placed both his coffee and the cookies on the tray. I would take them to his office and then print whatever he needed. If maybe I sneaked inside his office before he came in, then maybe I didn’t have to face him often as Mrs. Bae would communicate with him through the phone despite them being just a few steps away from each other, I intended on doing that too.

But my steps halted as I returned to the lobby, eyebrows furrowing as the glass to Mr. Song’s office was blurred and light poured outside from underneath the closed door. Oh, had he come in early? My eyebrows furrowed as I wondered whether I was hallucinating, had I been so lost in thought I didn’t hear the elevator, his footsteps, and the closing of the door? I could space out annoyingly well, so maybe that really was the case. I sighed and walked towards my desk, needing a second to gather my courage and steel my nerves as my eyes fell on the unlocked computer. So, Mr. Song not only came in earlier but he also unlocked Mrs. Bae’s computer before heading inside his office. That was rather confusing, and just when I had started wondering whether someone had broken in on our floor, I heard his unmistakable raspy and deep voice coming through the glass that separated us. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it was Song Mingi, no doubt. Glancing at the door and then down at the computer, I decided that I didn’t want to enter his office twice today if it really wasn’t necessary so, I quickly printed the monthly expenses and bound them together after placing them in order. The numbers were so high that I struggled to read them correctly, but it wasn’t surprising, the company was huge and what they expertise in was even bigger.

I grabbed the papers and the tray into my hands, mindful of my steps as I headed for Mr. Song’s office door, taking a deep breath as I paused in front of it. He was still talking, probably on the phone, and I decided it was best I slipped in and out while he was distracted, so I knocked and went inside without waiting for his answer.

“Yes, I know.” His voice was harsh and tinged with annoyance as I veered my way around his office like an expert, having been inside too often. Who do you think cleaned up his mess and dusted off his shelves? Exactly, me because I couldn’t handle watching Mrs. Bae ruin her already aching back and knees, “Honestly? I don’t fucking care. I told you I couldn’t design it and produce it in a month, so is it really my fault that your superiors are blaming you now?”

I was curious what this was about, but I knew my place and not to snoop around, so I just headed for his desk hopeful that Mr. Song wouldn’t notice me as his chair was swivelled around to face the huge windows overlooking the bustling morning city, mist having settled in the distance where it was closer to the mountains. The view was beautiful from here and I often found myself gazing out the windows when I had to be inside Mr. Song’s office, wondering if I’d ever earn enough to live in a penthouse, it was wishful thinking but at least it made me more determined to work harder.

“Then deal with it.” Mr. Song snapped as I placed the tray on the desk, in its usual spot, and my eyes fell on the back of his head as he scoffed loudly, his fingers drumming against the armrest of the leather chair he sat in. He was so tall that even his massive chair couldn’t hide his form and my eyes stuck to his broad shoulders outlined by the shoulder pads of his black jacket before I snapped out of it and moved as quietly as possible to place the documents I had printed in the middle of the desk, “I’m not taking the blame for your incompetence, idiot, call me when you have a real reason to speak with me.”

Just as I had straightened up and took a step back, Mr. Song hung up and groaned as he threw his head back, eyes screwed shut as he groaned, “What a fucking idiot, he can’t even design his own gadget and then I’m at fault for prioritising real projects.”

Well, I was sure I wasn’t meant to hear his whining and inner monologue said out loud, so I took a tentative step backwards, praying he’d remain with his eyes closed and with his back turned so that I could slip out of his office before he’d even realize I was in there. For a man who regarded himself so highly, he lacked the skill of being aware of his surroundings at all times, something I didn’t mind for once. But my hopes were soon crushed as I stepped on something that made noise, eyes widening as I froze, watching as Mr. Song’s eyebrows furrowed for a second, “Ah, Joohyun, morning. Can you please call up—”

Of course, he’d call Mrs. Bae by her name without any regard to her age and accomplishments, I wasn’t even surprised he failed to respect the only person who remained stuck to his side in this company, vouching for him when nobody else did as few people liked the CEO. But his eyes opened and his words stuck in his throat as we made contact, albeit a little silly as his head had fallen off the headrest and he was looking at me cross-eyed. The speed with which he swivelled the chair around and fixed his posture should have been comical, but I knew what was coming and so I didn’t enjoy it. The slight worry and annoyance were gone from his face in the blink of an eye, replaced with a chilling arrogance and a self-assured smirk as his eyes very shamelessly ran all over my body, checking me out. I clenched my jaw and fixed my posture as well, plastering on the corporate smile that I wished conveyed the message of ‘fuck yourself, Song Mingi’, but it apparently didn’t as he intertwined his fingers and placed his elbows on the table to lean forward, tongue poking out to lick his lips.

“My, my, if only Joohyun looked anything like you, I’d come in early every morning.” His smirk only spread wider, eyes shining with a newfound resolve as he waited eagerly for a reaction, for anything. But it didn’t come as I remained impassive, eyes boring into his with nonchalance and coldness as I burned away on the inside, screaming and cursing at him in my mind. How dare he disrespect the lovely Mrs. Bae and disregard all her sacrifices made for his ungrateful ass just because I was young and relatively alright looking?!

“Mrs. Bae is sick and until she returns I will be replacing her, but I suppose you’ve been informed of the changes, sir.” I tried to keep my voice levelled so that I wouldn’t snap at him, but it was a little hard as he bit his bottom lip when I addressed him as ‘sir’. I didn’t want to think about it for even a second and I suppressed a sigh as he leaned back in his chair, legs spreading wide as he let his eyes run over my body again. Fucker, I hope he swallows his coffee wrong, maybe I should prepare his coffee with regular milk from now on, “The monthly expenses and payments that still have to be made are on the desk, sir, I have printed them as Mrs. Bae does.”

He glanced at the bound paperwork for a second before his lips pursed, eyes falling back on me. There was a slight change to his features, the quick glimmer of curiosity as he regarded me with inquiring eyes, but it was gone again as he rubbed his plump bottom lip with his forefinger, his hands littered with rings that were huge and somehow looked classy on him instead of making him look like a wannabe punk. For a CEO, he certainly wasn’t afraid to dress however he wanted while still being mindful that he was at his workplace. Sometimes he wore suits that highlighted his body and muscles in the right way, turning heads and having me throw him a second glance as he waltzed inside his office, and sometimes he wore outfits that you only saw on the runway, like today. His attire was all-black, non-conferring to society’s gender norms and unique in its way. He wore a blouse that seemed to fall a little lower on one shoulder, tucked inside pants that reached the floor with a skirt over them that reached just below his knees, his jacket cropped and with shoulder padding. The silver chains around his neck only added to the outfit and I couldn’t deny that he was quite the sight to look at with his black hair pushed back, and his undercut fresh. It made him look sharper, it defined his high cheekbones, and with his hair pushed back like that his eyes only became sharper and more intimidating.

“Trying to leave an impression on me already, huh?” His chuckle was mocking and laced with an undertone that almost had me marching up to him and punching the shit out of him, “It’ll take a few months before I can say whether you’re qualified for this job, sugar, newbies are great but they always fuck up, no offence.”

“None taken,” I grinned, trying to contain my rage and pride to lengthen my stay at the company, “I’ve been working here for four years, Mr. Song.”

He blinked once, then gulped, and then his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he took me in again, but finally not with lustful eyes but plain confusion as he probably tried to recall a time he’d seen me before. Instead of being offended that my own boss, the man I shared a floor with and crossed paths with in the hallway more than once, didn’t recognize me, I felt accomplished that I managed to dodge him for a complete four years. We’ve ridden the elevator together not once, but I huddled in the corner and always waited for him to get off first in order to stay out of his sight, I just couldn’t stand the man and it was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes.

“Ah, perhaps if I hear your name…” He trailed off and then eyed his coffee, eyebrows twitching as his eyes lingered on them, hand reaching for a cookie reluctantly.

“Five teaspoonfuls of sugar and a quarter of oat milk, just the way you like it.” It actually felt freaking awesome seeing the confused and slightly taken aback expression on Mr. Song’s face, who knew I’d enjoy being in his presence for once, “And I’m Miss Jang.”

“Jang…?” He asked quickly but I just remained smiling, not about to tell him my name. He could look it up very easily with a search in the database, either way, if he was curious enough.

“I’m the secretary assistant, so don’t worry, I know everything I need to know.” I ignored his question and took a step towards the door, signalling that I was out of his office in the next five seconds, “Let’s both pray Mrs. Bae returns fast, I quite enjoy shadowing her.” Instead of having to face you, but I didn’t add that to my short speech.

Mr. Song’s eyes narrowed as he took in my retreating form and for a split second, I noticed annoyance on his features, making me feel victorious in a way I never imagined I could, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. She’s too stubborn to remain sick for long, she’ll be back soon, but until then I expect nothing but excellence from you, I would hate to fire you if you’ve been working for me for four years. Anyways, when’s my first meeting?”

“At eleven, sir.” I checked the time, two more hours until then.

“Good, call Miss Kim and tell her I have something to discuss with her.” He paused to grab his cup of coffee and I refrained from rolling my eyes at his theatrics, “Tell her to come as fast as possible and that we’ll talk in my office.”

Or fuck, is what he meant but didn’t say. I hummed in order to swallow the scoff that threatened to leave my lips and bowed my head just slightly, in the way I knew it was enough to be respectful but still not that much. But Mr. Song wasn’t looking at me anymore so he wouldn’t see, he was too busy flipping through the paperwork as he sipped his coffee. I gripped the handle of the door but paused in the doorway, eyes falling on the unwrapped and empty package of a condom I had stepped on just minutes ago, “I’m not cleaning that up too, pick it you yourself, Mr. Song.”

And when his head snapped up with a scowl, eyes following the direction I was pointing at, he scoffed loudly and gave me a sharp glare. I smiled in a way that I knew couldn’t outwardly be catalogued as a ‘fuck you’ smile, but it also made sure to convey that I wasn’t dumb nor his rag that he could throw around and find amusement in. Then, without waiting to be dismissed, I slipped through the door and walked towards my desk, a smirk making its way on my lips as I graciously sat in Mrs. Bae’s chair, swivelling closer to the desk as I went to raise my hand and flip my boss off, but suddenly, the blur from the windows was gone and I went rigid, hand already midway raised. Mingi’s arm was outstretched as he held the controller, eyes glaring and fixed on me as I scoffed and returned his fierce glare, picking up the central telephone to dial Miss Kim and ask her to come to Mr. Song’s office.

I guess today would be exhausting in all the different ways I didn’t think possible before.

And I was right, it was exhausting in a way that had both my blood boiling and making me feel resigned as I was finally able to shut the computer off, the sun about to set any minute now. I had to stay for longer than expected as Mrs. Bae had a lot of workload, and without having an assistant to help out, I had to do it all on my own. I couldn’t complain about that as long as Mrs. Bae was healthy and up on her feet in the following ways, I would fill in for her and work even nights because I respected her and loved her a lot. She was a motherly figure and a good guide for both office-related and life-related things. I couldn’t wait to see her and hear her voice, already missing her dad jokes and shrill laughter. But perhaps what I missed the most was that she was the only one who could put Mr. Song in his place, something he desperately needed.

The blurry effect stayed off the windows the whole day and I felt Mr. Song’s sharp eyes on me more often than not, it was slowly driving me up the wall. I knew what he was playing at, he didn’t like my attitude towards him and he was trying to find reasons to get rid of me. But he couldn’t because I was trained by Mrs. Bae and I was damn good at my job, there was a reason why I survived four years at the company without working as an engineer or down at the lobby—Mr. Song rarely meddled with the lobby girls, and perhaps that was the only smart thing he was capable of doing. But now I had him on my back the whole day, making me uncomfortable as I sat in Mrs. Bae’s chair rigidly and with an aching back by how strained it was, fingers spasming from how much I had been typing away on the keyboard, and a crazy itch to finally go home. At least he wasn’t a complete ass and told me to get lunch while he was in the meeting, even handing me his card which I, obviously, declined. He had a peculiar look in his eyes that I couldn’t decipher, and then Wooyoung was up on our floor to fetch Mr. Song with a shit-eating grin on his lips.

“Ah, my favourite person in the whole wide world!” He had called loudly while Mr. Song was inside his office, door open, gathering paperwork, files, and the jacket he had discarded hours ago. My eyes narrowed at Wooyoung as I paused writing the email for the editorial photoshoot and leaned forward, raising my chin.

“Aren’t you supposed to be annoying your engineer friends?” I raised an eyebrow as Wooyoung’s grin only grew in size, “You seem to be lost, this isn’t your floor, Dr Jung.”

Wooyoung gave me a deadpanned look at the title I used as he leaned forward, resting his arms against the top part of the desk, “Don’t call me doctor at our workplace, dummy.”

“Don’t call me a dummy at our workplace.” I mocked Wooyoung and he glared at me before he stole a gummy bear out of the bowl placed there for our clients.

“Well, I see you’re doing just fine,” Wooyoung spoke while chewing, eyes running over the place, “The secretary role suits you; I should snap a picture for Sooyoung to see.”

“Don’t you dare.” I snapped and stood up to snatch the bowl of gummies when Wooyoung went to grab another one, “It’s for the clients, Wooyoung, and stop bothering Sooyoung while she’s at work. Besides, I already sent her a picture.”

“Of course you did.” He rolled his eyes and pouted as he swiftly leaned over the desk and managed to snatch a gummy still, making me gasp as my eyes widened, giving him a nasty look, “How’s working with your worst nightmare? Have you flipped him off already? Or have you cursed his name out in the bathroom? I bet you switched up his milk for a regular one like, you said you’d do—”

“Wooyoung, it’s nice seeing you on time for once.” Mr. Song’s sharp voice interrupted us, and I gave Wooyoung a warning look before I smoothed my skirt out and placed the bowl of gummies back in its place, “Although the blazer and your pants don’t match—”

“They do!” Wooyoung cut our boss off with a whine as Mr. Song came closer, “My fashion sense is better than yours.”

“You wish,” I muttered under my breath as I settled in the chair, thinking that it was quiet enough, but both men looked at me at the same time, making my eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Mr. Song’s impassive façade broke as he gave me a smirk, plump lips pursing as he let his eyes drop to my collarbones and explore my exposed shoulders due to my blouse. I fought back an eye roll and just sighed as I looked back at Wooyoung, “Tell Sooyoung when you see her that I might get off late, we’ll postpone our dinner for another day.”

“Yes!” Wooyoung fist bumped the air in glee and I fixed my glare on the side of his head as he eagerly took the files our boss was holding, “After Friday, I wouldn’t have survived another drunken dinner so soon. Imagine my poor ears having to listen to you whine about our—”

“Goodbye, Wooyoung.” I interrupted him with urgency, aware of the panic that coated my features as he snickered like the evil bastard he was, eyeing Song Mingi from the corner of his eyes as the man looked between us with curiosity written over his features. But then it was gone just as Wooyoung opened his mouth, Mr. Song was giving me a sharp look.

“Call Miss Kim and tell her there’s been a change to our plans, I’m busy tonight.” I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t his messenger, but as his secretary, I pretty much was. I nodded and pulled my chair closer to the desk, getting ready to finish the email when Mr. Song continued, “And get back to work.”

I bit my tongue to refrain from wishing him a lovely descent into hell, and I knew I wasn’t able to hide my irritated face well enough because Wooyoung snickered as Mr. Song took off towards the elevator, my best friend’s boyfriend lingering just behind him. He gave me a wink before he was right behind our boss, and I sighed as I got back to typing, catching the beginning of their conversation about some issues they’d run into while designing the new prototype. But other than that quick interaction, Mr. Song ignored me for the rest of the day minus the fact that he was spying on me from his office whenever he could, eyes boring into the side of my head and making me type just a little harsher than necessary.

But Mr. Song said something about being busy and not wanting to be bothered anymore half an hour ago, and after he closed and locked his door, the glass became all blurry and I understood the message: I was dismissed, I could finally head home—and head home I did, more eager than ever before. The metro was busy as most people were, similar to me, headed home and crowding the place. I stayed a decent distance away from the tracks and typed away on my phone as there was a commotion not too far from me. I didn’t react to it, used to the loudness and sometimes crazy people that came down to ride the metro. However, my dismissal quickly turned into alarm when there was a loud shout and a pained cry followed right after it and people ran left and right, knocking into me and almost sending me to the dirty ground. I stumbled and tightened my grip on my phone, not understanding the sudden hysteria until it was too late.

The crowd had cleared up enough so that the scene was visible to me, and I gasped as a woman lay on the ground, clutching her side as blood pooled underneath her. Despite living in a big city where crime was inevitable, I had never come across a scene like this and I felt frozen, terrified, and all of a sudden too dumb to do anything. People were screaming around us, mostly male voices demanding something, but my eyes remained fixated on the crying woman as her hands trembled and sobs echoed despite the loud commotion. Someone next to me was calling the ambulance and cops, at least five men surrounded the wounded woman and screamed at someone that I still couldn’t see, and just when somebody shoved me and told me to get away, I snapped out of it, but it was too late. A calloused hand was wrapped around my throat as cold metal pressed against my throat, already wet and dripping red with blood from the aggressor’s previous attack.

“Don’t make me do it!” The man screamed at the top of his lungs as I was rendered frozen, heart beating out of my chest and breath stilled in my throat, “Don’t make me kill her too!”

I went even more rigid, if possible, body shaking from fear as I remained silent, eyes darting around the place and silently crying out for help with my eyes, “Listen, we can settle this, no need to harm her too.”

“You’ll immobilise me if I let her go,” The man’s voice that held me captive thundered over my head and I tried to gulp but was afraid the movement would make the blade cut into my skin, “I’m not going to jail. She had it coming, she was a cheating bitch!”

“Alright, we get it, man!” A man that was crouched next to the wailing woman snapped, eyes burning with passion as he turned to face us, “You got what you wanted, the woman you’re holding right now is innocent, let her go.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” At the shout and jerk of my captor’s body, I whimpered and grabbed onto his sleeve as I felt the cold blade press much harder into my skin, making my lips tremble as I fought back tears. I tried to pull the man’s arm away, desperately so, but he was relatively stronger, “Stop moving around, bitch, if you don’t want to die!”

I was breathing hard by now, trying to keep it together, but I was failing as my vision became blurred by tears that I tried to hold in. I could hear sirens in the distance and the people around the woman fussed about as they tried to stop her bleeding, but it didn’t seem to help. I wished someone would snatch me away from the psycho holding me and save me, but I knew the bleeding woman needed the help more than I did—unless I was injured too, who knew, maybe I’d never get to see tomorrow. The thought was frightening and I gulped down another whimper as the man's fingers dug into my shoulder as he kept me pressed against himself, he was breathing even harder than I was, his chest moving up and down quickly against my back.

“Listen, the woman you’re holding right now did nothing to you.” Another person tried to reason, a soft-spoken boy who was crouched right in front of the injured woman, hands bloody and eyes hardened, “She’s a complete stranger to you, she doesn’t even know who you are. If you want another person’s blood on your hands and a lifetime sentence, then by all means, go ahead and kill her too.”

I went to protest with a whine, but I felt the man’s grip loosen after a few seconds as he cursed under his breath. I was shaking, still clutching my purse in both of my hands as I had dropped the one holding onto the man’s arm out of fear of agitating him even more. Gasps could be heard above us, where the entrance of the metro was, and suddenly a peculiar sound filled the space. It sounded mechanical but not quite, hard and scraping like metal, and it was loud. The sirens were even louder now and I knew help was close by, I could only hope it came before I suffered any serious injuries. My heart was thumping so fast I was sure the artery in my neck was pulsating too, just the more inviting to be slashed or stabbed. The thought made me shudder and just as I was about to open my mouth and plead for my life too, something red and robot-like descended only a few feet away from us. Everyone gasped and murmured, my own eyes widened as I stared at the robot-like red machine, all armour and menacing looking from up close.

I had only seen Iron Man on TV, and suddenly, everything I had heard about the anonymous superhero seemed to be true. The person behind the iron armour was tall with wide shoulders and narrow hips as the costume moulded onto his body perfectly, and the person’s face was concealed by a mask that never came off, teasing the public of who could bear it. Despite knowing that the person behind the mask had no mal-intention and was here to rather save me, I couldn’t help but watch it with doubtful eyes, intimidated by the loomingly tall body and firm structure of the costume. There was a collective moment of pure silence, everyone holding their breaths as they waited for Iron Man to do something. The man holding me cursed loudly this time and I gasped as my eyes widened, his knife digging into my skin so that it scrapped my skin. I bit my bottom lip and tried to refrain from crying despite every particle of my body crying out in desperation to be freed and finally saved.

“Well, what do we have here, huh?” The superhero’s voice sounded somewhat robotic, but it wasn’t hard to make out that the person’s voice was grave, deep, and rather sharp as he spoke, “Terrorizing innocent women at the metro, is that a new hobby of yours? Did your mother not love you enough or what?”

“Shut up!” The man screamed and made me flinch as it made my ears ring, and suddenly I doubted that Iron Man was here to save the day. Why in hell would he be antagonizing an armed man holding a hostage?! I hoped the superhero could see my glare as I blinked my tears away, suddenly my terror blending together with anger due to nobody doing anything to help me, “What the fuck do you know about love, you iron fucker?!”

The armoured man chuckled and it was raspy almost, “I don’t fuck iron, but my costume is made of iron, hence the name—”

“Cut the attitude!” The man hissed and I gulped, fidgeting around and reaching inside my purse to see whether I had anything on me to use as a weapon to free myself since nobody was doing anything real to help me, “I’ll kill this bitch!”

“Don’t call her a bitch, you lowlife.” Iron Man snapped with irritation and I paused, eyes boring into the mask where its eyes were. At least Iron Man seemed to be a decent man when he wasn’t mocking and teasing the criminal, “Now, I’ll tell you how this goes—”

“Just shut the fuck up—”

“If you interrupt me one more time, I’ll blast off your face, dude.” The patience of Iron Man seemed to have snapped all at once as he raised his arm, something blue glowing in the middle of the iron palm. It didn’t look friendly nor like it wouldn’t hurt as it twisted and turned, accumulating more and more energy, “Like I was saying, this can go two ways. You release her and I take you to the officers without unnecessary injuries or you keep being foolish and I’m forced to take you down to free her, which are you choosing?”

“Fuck yourself!” The man turned his head and spat on the ground, making my face scrunch up in disgust as my body continued to tremble, wondering how Iron Man could hurt my captor without hurting me in the process as well. Certainly, whatever thing he meant to blast at the man wasn’t smart enough to go around me or dodge me, no matter how I tried looking at the situation, neither looked like I would get out of this unscathed. But if my hope in the superhero faded, it returned when the cops and paramedics finally showed up, spilling down the stairs, the cops pointing their guns at me and the man as the medics ran to the injured woman to help her and take her away to the nearest hospital. I gulped, counting the seven officers as they closed in on us, stopping just behind Iron Man as they assessed the situation.

“Sir.” The captain addressed Iron Man and the superhero ignored him besides the small nod of his head, “We’ll handle it from here.”

“How?” Iron Man chuckled, apparently amused meanwhile I was seriously on the verge of bursting out in tears. I’ve never had so many weapons pointed at me and I didn’t know how to react other than prepare for the pain the bullets would probably leave, “By harming her too?”

The captain said nothing as he sent the superhero a sharp stare, then faced me with a reassuring smile on his face, “Do not worry, ma’am, we’ll get you just in a second.”

“Cut the crap.” I hissed, surprising everyone—even my captor—as my body shook and my voice was laced with fear and annoyance. I wasn’t a child they could fool that everyone would be alright, I was conscious that they’d have to hurt me in order to take down the man holding me, “Just do your job.”

The paramedics rushed the woman above ground, probably to an ambulance, and I wished for nothing more than to be free and sitting in an ambulance where they’d check for my injuries, hopefully not too many.

“Sir, you’ll have to drop the knife if you don’t want to—”

“Mr. S!” A boyish and excited voice called out from behind us and I sighed, mind too tired to keep up with everything that was happening. Just who was this new person and why was nobody doing anything to help me?! But almost as if the newcomer was a mind reader, he called out again, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it!”

And then everything happened at once, there was web on the man’s wrist that held the knife to my throat, and then it was yanked away, finally letting me breathe without the fear of cutting myself accidentally, and I was shoved really hard. I stumbled as my legs had gone numb, and I was sure I would crash to the ground with a loud and painful thud, but it never happened. What I did crash into was cold and hard, but it wasn’t anything like the ground. It was sturdy under my grip as I gasped and gripped onto the iron shoulders of the man, and suddenly, I craved a warm body and some fabric my fingers could dig into for comfort. My chest rose and fell so quickly I became lightheaded as I clung to the superhero with desperation, legs going jelly as he had to hold me up, “It’s fine, you’re fine. You’re safe, Miss Jang, I’ve got you.”

A sob left my throat but no tears fell from my eyes as the police officers were shouting around us, only making my panic rise as I forced my eyes shut, telling myself that if I couldn’t see then it wasn’t real. Iron Man tsked and grumbled something intangible before I felt a metallic arm underneath my knees, the other holding me up by my torso, and then I was lifted into the air bridal style and taken away from the scene of the policemen arresting my captor. I tried to reassure myself that everything was fine and that I was safe, but the lack of warm skin and a face I could associate with my saviour only made me more jittery and uncomfortable. Iron Man seemed to realize this as my muscles were tense to the point they were aching, and so, he sat me down on the stairs and tucked me away from the eyes of the world as everyone rushed around us. He stood in a way that he obscured the world for me and I was grateful as I could finally breathe. I held my head in my hands and brought my knees up to my chest, pressing my forehead against my knees, “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s over.”

I whispered over and over until my brain finally believed what it was hearing and my muscles relaxed just a little bit, but the trembling never went away. I knew I told Wooyoung to tell Sooyoung I wouldn’t go over for dinner tonight, but I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep alone in my apartment tonight.

“Are you hurt?” Iron Man asked as he remained standing, and I gulped and licked my lips, which had become painfully dry in the span of a few minutes.

“No,” I muttered, keeping my eyes closed, “he probably scratched me, but I’m fine.”

“Good, you’re safe.”

“I know.”

My whisper was drowned out by the loud voices of the journalists who made their way down to get the last-minute news just as the cops escorted the man up the stairs. I knew I had to leave a statement and that I would be probably called to the station, but all I wanted to do was get to Sooyoung’s place and soak in a bath until it was time to go to sleep.

“Hey, Mr. Son—I mean, Iron Man!” The same boyish voice that apparently actually saved me from my captor was loud and made me cringe as I raised my head and blinked my eyes open.

“Stop yelling, idiot.” Iron Man hissed and held the man, Spiderman, back by the shoulder as he skipped over to us.

“Oh, sorry.” His voice was slightly distorted, but it was obvious he felt sorry as the eyes of his mask blinked, freaking me out even more than Iron Man’s cold costume. I was very aware that I lived in the same city as certain superheroes, but encountering them felt weird, and if I was being honest, I wasn’t much of a fan. I much preferred seeing them on the news and in newspapers. Spiderman, who sounded way too young even with his voice distorted, seemed to be just as tall as Iron Man, if not taller, and he was lean but muscular. It came as no surprise since he crawled around buildings and hopped around in the sky, hanging off his web—you needed some serious muscles for that, “I didn’t mean to startle you, are you both alright?”

“Yes, not even a scratch—”

“I was scratched.” I snapped as I looked up at the two, hugging my knees close to my chest still. Spiderman’s mask blinked again and I averted my eyes as it made my skin crawl, “But I’m alright, thank you for saving me, Spiderman.”

“Spiderman?!” The iron-clad superhero asked with an edge to his voice, almost as if he was pissed off, “I was the one to come to your rescue first—”

“And yet it was Spiderman who actually did something to save me,” I hissed, utterly spent and pissed off now that I wasn’t held at knifepoint anymore, “All you did was chat away and mock the man, endangering my life even more.”

Silence followed my harsh words but I couldn’t care less as I saw a paramedic with kind eyes and a kind smile approach us carefully, greeting the superheroes meekly, “Miss, we will have to check up on you too now.”

“I’m fine though,” I muttered and tried to stand up but found little to no power in my legs, before I could stumble, Iron Man was by my side and helping me up. I looked up at the iron mask and said nothing as I still felt disdain towards the person behind the mask.

“You don’t look fine, Miss Jang.” I huffed and allowed the superhero to help me stand until the paramedic came to my aid, holding me up as the two superheroes followed us up the stairs.

“Should I carry you, ma’am?” Spiderman asked with worry, “You’re a bit pale, I can carry you if you want me to, I know I look scrawny but I’m actually really strong!”

“I carried her just fine before, do you need assistance?” Iron Man huffed and turned his head sharply towards Spiderman as the two men walked on each side of me and the paramedic. My body was still shaking so it was a little hard to coordinate my legs, but with the help of the paramedic, I was managing just fine, except for the violent thumping of my head and the haze that followed my vision.

“What I need is you two shutting up,” As an afterthought since they did save my life, I added, “Please.”

“Sure, ma’am, but just let me know if anything’s wrong, I can—”

“Shut up.” Iron Man groaned loudly, and the paramedic snickered as if a situation like this one was something anything out of the ordinary to him.

“Yes, Mr. Son—uh, Iron Man! I mean, Iron Man, sorry sir, I’ll shut up now.” Spiderman’s voice was defeated and a little tight, and I could swear Iron Man muttered a threat under his breath, but once we were up on the surface and all the hustle and bustle of the city hit me, I felt faint. Dangerously faint as I squinted my eyes, the swirling red and blue lights of the ambulance and cop cars blinding me for a second.

“Alright, you can sit in the ambulance and I’ll do a quick check-up.” The paramedic let me know as Spiderman eagerly opened the back of the ambulance and helped the paramedic walk me up and onto the bed, “Do you have anyone we can call to take you home?”

“Park Sooyoung,” I heaved a sigh and opened my purse, “If she doesn’t pick up, then Jung Wooyoung.”

“Oh, that’s—”

“Shut up!” I flinched at Iron Man’s harsh tone as he yanked Spiderman by the collar all up in his face, shaking the younger-sounding boy as he just chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head.

“Sorry, Mr. S.”

The paramedic snickered again and I handed him over my phone as he grabbed his little light to flash my eyes and momentarily blind me, “So, because it’s protocol, I’m going to ask how you feel again. Anything that’s changed now that we’re above ground?”

“No, nothing, I’m feeling fine.”

And then, the whole world went dark.

I stared at the screen of my phone, I actually had been for a few good minutes now, but my brain didn’t register the words. Sooyoung was asking if I was up to grab a quick lunch with her, of course, if my oh-so-lovely boss allowed it, but I was way too distracted by said boss’ deep voice speaking in a hushed tone coming from the kitchen. It’s been three days since the whole metro fiasco and I had been down at the police station, gave them my statement, and I would be probably called in as a witness once the court date is set—that fucker isn’t getting out of jail after he tried to kill his girlfriend, I wouldn’t allow it.

People looked at me weirdly and I heard them whispering behind my back whenever I walked down the hallways as, of course, that idiot of a Wooyoung had run his mouth and now the whole company knew that I almost died—his words, not mine. A quick session with the company’s therapist had her convinced that I was alright and needed no further sessions despite my initial disdain to even go to one because I knew I was fine. Of course, I was a little jumpier and avoided the metro even if it took longer to get to work and then home, but until my mind would fully accept that it was a freak accident and that I was at the right place at the wrong time, I couldn’t help but indulge to the small voice of fear at the back of my mind. Sooyoung has been kinder than usual, offering up her spacious couch if I felt like crashing over at her place, but quite frankly, since Wooyoung was almost always over I preferred the quiet of my own apartment, even if I had to triple-check that I locked the front door before I went to sleep.

I was fine, I really was—and this isn’t me trying to convince myself—it’s been three days after all, and to be frank, the fact that these so-called superheroes actually do their job was another comforting thought. Well, Spiderman at least does, can’t say much about Iron Man. The only ‘help’ he offered was to stall and distract my captor, something me and the other on-lookers were managing just fine on our own too. But still, I felt a little bit of gratitude for the iron-clad superhero too for holding me and reassuring me when my brain was fogged up with terror and conviction that I was going to die. But now, three days later, things that seemed insignificant at the moment came back in flashes that had me questioning myself whether it was a fragment of my imagination or it truly had been said.

The first and biggest issue that seemed to concern me was the fact that Iron Man seemed to know my name when it wasn’t said or mentioned at the scene at all. It didn’t even occur to me at that moment as I was too wrapped up in the fact that a knife no longer put my life at risk, and even welcomed the familiarity and reassurance the superhero brought with his words. But now that I was conscious and no longer ridden with fear, I was thoroughly confused. I knew nobody had uttered my name, not even me, so just how was it possible that the iron-clad man had known it? Did superheroes have mind-reading powers too, or was it just common knowledge that Iron Man knew these sorts of things? Had I been hallucinating? But that couldn’t be either because I was sure he had said it twice, that must’ve meant something. Like the fact that I wasn’t hallucinating.

And then, not because I associate and compare all assholes to my boss, but the way Iron Man mocked my captor sounded a lot similar to the way Song Mingi would talk down on his employees, sneer on his face as arrogancy laced his tone. The voice modulator Iron Man used made it harder to assess any emotion in his tone, but I was sure I have heard a tinge of cockiness in it when he was busy mocking the man instead of saving me from him. It was a far-fetched reach, I knew it, but there was also this gut feeling that told me to trust myself and roll with the delusion. And my intuition had never been wrong before.

The third reason that it all seemed a little suspicious to me—completely aware that this was a relative fact and any man could have the physique of my boss—it still made me search up photos of Iron Man that had been taken on a whim for magazines to compare to those editorial shots Song Mingi enjoyed doing. It was a match, their shoulders wide and broad, hips narrow, creating the perfect inverted triangle shape that so many people went crazy over. Their heights seemed to be a match too, both tall intimidatingly so. I read through forums to see what others who had encountered the superhero had to say, and I wasn’t surprised to find out that they were rather condescending about him. Apparently, he liked to talk a lot before he got to do the saving, and it put other’s lives more in danger, sometimes resulting in grave injuries. He spoke like he ruled the whole world and everyone else had to bow down to him, and he oftentimes after saving the victims disregarded them and told them to go on their merry way and be more mindful next time, as if it was their fault that they had fallen victims in the first place.

And lastly, because perhaps it was the most pressing issue after the fact that Iron Man knew my name, it was the certainty that Spiderman seemed to be familiar enough with the other superhero to know his identity and address him by his name. Now, Iron Man stopped the other one each time from saying his name fully, but I had caught the little he had said, and ever since I had been thinking. I have heard others at the workplace address Song Mingi as ‘Mr. S’ more than once, even Wooyoung liked to call him that—and truly, ‘Mr. Son’ could be just an abbreviation for Mr. Song Mingi. I knew I sounded crazy to most, at least to Sooyoung definitely as she laughed when I told her my crazy theory, she didn’t understand why out of all the people I suspected my boss. Well, to be fair, I had no reason for that, but given the fact that the superhero showed up quickly to the scene, it was a real possibility. Even Spiderman and the police took longer, the company was right by the metro and Mr. Song specifically told me to go home as he wished to be alone.

Plus, because I knew Sooyoung would still consider me crazy, I told her about the fact that one time when I had been cleaning my boss’ office I discovered a hidden entry while I tried to move a decorative piece on the bookshelf. It looked like some classic villain shit at that time, but I said nothing about it to no one as I was rather complacent about keeping my job—I was still relatively new at the company. Sooyoung just laughed it off and told me that he probably had a vault in there for all the money and worthy items he owned. In fairness, it sounded plausible if my brain hadn’t decided to be suspicious of Song Mingi’s identity.

I had been devising a plan for the past two days, wondering about ways I could find out the superhero’s identity, or how I could catch my boss red-handed, but nothing was smart or subtle enough. He’d be able to trace it back to me and then all of my hard work at this company would go to waste, I didn’t want that. However, before I could start dwelling more on this, I was snapped out of my thoughts as Mr. Song’s voice carried closer to me.

“No, I told you not to come here—” Then he cut himself off with a groan, and I quickly straightened up in my chair as Mr. Song rounded the corner, the light in the kitchen switching off behind him. If he was good at something, even I couldn’t deny that it was the artificial intelligence he developed and then implemented in the whole building, “I’m not paying for your lunch again, Yunho.”

Gripping my phone a little tighter as I still had to text Sooyoung back, I allowed my eyes to rest on my boss as I took in his form, trying to recall Iron Man’s too at the same time. Mr. Song wore a suit today, all black and extremely form-fitting, with his black hair pushed back, showing off the undercut he thought made him look hotter. His vest expanded over his chest and became narrow at his waist, however, when he turned his back to me, I noticed that he had it pinched in so that it would cling to his hips instead of hanging freely and comfortably. I knew he was a man full of himself, but it was extremely infuriating that he knew how hot he was and he wasn’t ashamed to show it off too, “I told you I’m busy, kid, I can’t just free up my schedule whenever your devices go to shit.”

I flinched when Mr. Song suddenly turned, narrowed eyes landing on me as I turned my head and looked down at the computer, pretending to type away on it as I placed my phone next to the mousepad. My boss continued watching me and I tried not to peek at him, unusual to see him wear his thick glasses. Mrs. Bae had told me that he much preferred contacts and that we’d need to order new ones for him from time to time, so it made me fidgety as I wondered whether amidst my workload I had forgotten to order him some new ones, “Yunho, you’re a big boy, take care of it yourself.”

And then he rudely hung up as I could hear the other person still speaking on the other end. Mr. Song groaned loudly and my muscles tensed when he approached my desk, coming way too close for comfort. He leaned his hip against the side of it and crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking down at me. I tried not to scowl as I fixed my posture and read through the email that just made it into the inbox.

“Slacking off already?” Mr. Song mused, voice impassive, “It’s barely your fourth day.”

I remained silent and opened the email instead, skimming through it. The magazine for the editorial shoot has proposed a date and time, so, I turned my head and looked at my boss with a bored look on my face, “Is Wednesday next week good for the editorial shoot?”

“I don’t know,” He scoffed, a smirk pulling onto his lips, “You’re my secretary, you’re the one that knows my schedule.”

My jaw clenched as I stared into his sharp eyes for a second longer, hoping that he’d see I wasn’t impressed by his jabs, “Your Wednesday is free, sir, that’s why I’m asking. It so seems most of your schedules depend on whether you’re in a good mood or not, sir.”

I smiled sweetly as Mr. Song’s eyes narrowed just a little, and then he bent down, his face coming too close for my comfort, “How attentive of you. Tell them I’m only available at noon for two hours, and you’re coming too.”

“I’m doing what?” I asked alarmed, eyes widening, “Mrs. Bae never had to go with you—”

“But you’re not Mrs. Bae, are you?” I wished to punch the smirk off his face as his eyes once again took me in closely, travelling lower on my body before they stopped on my lips, making my heart beat just a bit quicker, “So free up your own schedule and dress in something sexy, can’t have you looking like a grandma if you’re to be seen in public with me.”

I couldn’t help but gape at his blatant disrespect, palms turning into fists as I turned my chair to face him better, disgusted and irritated as I tried to remain level-headed, “Since it’s my closet and my body, I’ll dress in whatever I find fit and comfortable for such occasion, Mr. Song, thank you for the recommendation though.”

“It was an order, not a recommendation.” Mr. Song’s smirk widened and my blood boiled as it was clear as day that he was enjoying the exchange, that he was having fun that I was getting heated over this, “I can buy you something pretty, Miss Jang, if that’s the issue.”

I stood up, unable to control myself as I glared my boss down despite him being obviously taller than me, “I don’t need you to buy me anything and I won’t have you order me around unless it’s strictly work-related. Just because your name is Song Mingi and you’re rich and can have anything and anyone, don’t think I won’t hurl your ass to court for breaching the contract and for trying to exploit your employees. I’m not your pet, Song.”

All amusement and arrogance left Mr. Song’s face as his expression turned cold, his sharp eyes running over my features before he hummed, rubbing his bottom lip as his glasses slipped lower on his tall nose, “Sweet, Miss Jang, perhaps then you can cancel the lunch with Mr. Park I should be leaving for right now, something more important came up. I assume you can do this much since it’s work-related.”

I gritted my teeth and exhaled, letting my features relax as I plastered on my generic smile and bowed my head just slightly, “Sure, Mr. Song, anything else?”

He took a second as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose then smoothed out his vest, leaning incredibly close so that I would hear his low voice, “The celebratory party for our collaboration with the car brand is this Saturday, I assume you know most employees are invited. You weren’t since it was Mrs. Bae supposed to come, but since you’re replacing her, I’ll be expecting to see you. Jongho will pick you up half an hour before the event.”

My mouth fell open as Mr. Song hummed and cast me one last glance before he turned and headed for his office, my mind reeling at what just happened. Jongho was his personal driver and assistant, he was almost always at his side when the two were out and about as he also served as Mr. Song’s bodyguard. I tried to form some coherent words and refuse the weird proposition, but Mr. Song was already inside his office, however, he left his door open again. My eyebrows furrowed as I settled back down in my chair, nose picking up on a sweet but musky scent that never failed to invade my nose whenever I went inside my boss’ office. It was the cologne he had been using ever since I got to know him, and my eyebrows furrowed as the elevator suddenly dinged, signalling that someone had come up to our floor. Coming to think of it, despite the metal and the obvious smell of iron, something sweet and musky clung just faintly to Iron Man’s costume the day he had saved me.

“Hi!” I flinched at the excited and loud voice, shaking my head to clear the thoughts away as I looked up. I was surprised to see a teenager standing in front of my desk, eyes round and smile brighter than my future as his puffy cheeks were tinged slightly red. He had a scarf around his neck that hid his chin and lips and he pulled his beanie off, ruffling his greenish-bluish-greyish hair, “My name is Yunho! I’m here to see Mr. S.”

“Uhm,” My eyebrows furrowed as I looked down at my computer to quickly run through Mr. Song’s schedule, “Yunho and…?”

“Jeong, Jeong Yunho, ma’am.” He answered, tone warm and soft and yet boyish at the same time as he rocked back and forth on his heels. I scanned through the schedule but his name didn’t pop up.

“Well, I don’t see you in here, Mr. Jeong.” I pursed my lips remembering Mr. Song’s orders and what I managed to eavesdrop on while he was on the phone, “But he did cancel an important lunch, were you just on the phone with him?”

“Yeah, some of my—uh, devices for school broke and I need Mr. Song’s help.” The young boy tried with a tentative smile and I hummed in acknowledgement, eyeing him curiously. But before I could tell him that I needed to check with Mr. Song first, the man appeared in the doorway and sighed loudly.

“Come on, Yunho, I don’t have all day just because you decided to parade your girlfriend around the city and broke it again.” Mr. Song deadpanned, but I was surprised to see fondness in his eyes as Yunho grinned widely, darting towards my boss after he gave me a cute wave, “Miss Jang, you can go have lunch, we’ll be busy for an hour or so, take your time.”

“Oh, Miss Jang, that’s why—” Yunho’s eyes widened as if in recognition, and I watched him with confusion as Mr. Song slapped a hand over his mouth and yanked the boy who was slightly taller than him inside his office, door slamming closed behind them, “I didn’t know she worked for you—”

“Shut up.”

And just like that, my suspicion of their identity intensified. Could Song Mingi actually be Iron Man? I didn’t know yet, but I was convinced to find out, and a brilliant idea just came to mind. I grabbed my phone and texted Sooyoung that I was too busy to have lunch today and left for the security room of our building. Call me crazy but my gut feeling was never wrong.

However, there was a single flaw in my plan. How in the hell was I going to execute it without raising suspicions? But it was too late to dwell on that as I had already knocked on the door and was waiting for the security guy to open it. Chewing on my bottom lip, I wondered which lie would be more believable, and just as I debated on wringing Wooyoung into it too, the door opened. Thankfully it wasn’t Chanyeol as he’d be able to tell my bullshit from miles away, so I smiled cheerily and hoped the middle-aged security guard would fall for my lie.

“Hello, I’m Jang Y/N, I’m Mr. Song’s secretary assistant.” I handed my badge to the security guard and he grunted as he looked over it, handing it back to me, “I was wondering if you could let me take a peek at the security footage. My car was scratched yesterday and I’d like to see who did it since they didn’t bother leaving a note on my windshield.”

I tried my best to look disheartened but also slightly annoyed. The security guard froze for a second and then glanced behind himself, “Uh, I mean, I can look at it for you, just give me the car model and license plate.”

Fuck, that’s not how this was supposed to go. I bit my bottom lip and tried to improvise before the guard caught onto me, “You see…my ex works here too and I am pretty sure it was him. We weren’t able to settle things nicely and I know he’s still got a vendetta for me. I would hate to make this difficult for you, but I’ve got a restraining order pending and I would need the footage like…right now, you know? I can film it with my phone and later on get it emailed, but my lawyer is expecting it today if it actually was my ex.”

I almost grinned at how put-together and real my lie sounded, proud of myself. The guard’s face fell and I tried to school my expression into something like sadness and worry as he sighed, looking behind himself, “Fine, come in.”

I offered him a thankful smile and followed him inside, bowing at the other security guards as they gave us curious looks but greeted me back wordlessly. The guard led me to a different room littered with monitors and I stopped behind the chair he sat in, eyebrows furrowed as he opened a new window and typed in a code I couldn’t see as it was protected from view, “This was yesterday? When?”

“Well,” I fiddled with my fingers and tried to rake my brain for the time Wooyoung left work, “maybe around six or seven in the evening?”

“You stay a lot for someone who’s Mr. Song’s secretary assistant.” The guard made small talk as he typed in some more codes and opened up the app.

“His secretary is sick so I’m replacing her for the time being, there’s a lot of work,” I explained and he hummed, nodding his head in understanding.

“When I don’t have the overnight shift, I also spend my whole day here,” He didn’t sound as bothered as I expected him to be, “The company is huge so we must work hard to keep it going, Mr. Song appreciates us and treats us well after all.”

Well, I didn’t want to crush the false image he had of our boss, but the guard was a man and after all, Song Mingi treated his male employees a lot better and with more respect than his female ones. Besides, I bet he barely came in contact with any of his security guards—besides Chanyeol, I suppose—so of course they’d have a positive image of their boss.

“Right, you’re right,” I answered absentmindedly and watched the guard click onto the screen that looked over the garage, clicking some more to rewind the footage to yesterday.

“What car are we looking at?” He asked and I almost groaned, trying to remember the model of Wooyoung’s car.

“It’s a Mercedes-Benz, the newer type.” The guard paused and gave me a look over his shoulder, “Sorry, my ex is part of the engineering team who are developing the new prototype, and I never bothered asking for the model’s name but I’ll know when I see it!”

“I see.” The man muttered and clicked some more and there it was, the footage of Wooyoung’s car but he was nowhere in sight yet, “I’ll speed it up since you don’t know the exact time, tell me when you see him.”

“Thank you.” I gave him a wide smile and the guard grunted as he pressed play, people and cars moved quickly on the screen, but not so quickly that we wouldn’t be able to recognize them. However, this is where the issue of not having a well-thought-out plan came into play. I had no idea how to get the guard to show me footage of Mr. Song’s office, and I was also sure he’d never show it to me and would even get me fired. I tried to think hard of a way just as I spotted Wooyoung headed towards his car, I sighed but spoke up, “That’s him!”

The guard stopped the video to slow it down to regular speed, and then pressed play again, making me chew on my bottom lip and wonder whether I’d be fired if I knocked him out right now. There must be cameras inside this place too and just to make sure, I looked up towards the corner and saw the blinking red light of the CCTV. I sighed but focused back on the screen just as the guard’s phone rang. He cursed as he looked down at his phone and then paused the footage, swivelling around in his chair.

“I have to take this call; it’ll take a few minutes.” He said as he stood and hurried towards the door, “I’ll be back and then we can have a look at the footage together.”

“Sure, take your time!” I grinned at him and waved him off as he quickly left, accepting the call before the door was even closed behind him. Bingo, this was my time to shine. I waited for the guard’s voice to fade into the background and to make sure that no other guard came onside, and then I took my spot in the chair and swivelled closer to the screens. It took me a second to realize how to switch between the many screens, but having paid attention to the guard I realized that it was easier to moderate the system than I initially thought. I clicked on the window that had Mr. Song’s office and squinted my eyes as I watched him and Yunho huddled together at his desk, things pushed to the side as they both were leaning over something. I searched the screen for something that would make the image larger and grinned when I spotted the emoticon, clicking on it quickly as I was curious to see what got the two men so concerned.

Something small, a device as they had called it, was placed on the desk as they crowded around it, lips moving as they spoke to each other. The younger boy had disregarded his backpack, coat, scarf and beanie on the leather sofa and seemed rather comfortable despite this being the first time I saw the two together. But based on Mr. Song’s body language and the way he spoke to him, I knew the two were familiar with each other. A little intrigued myself by that little device, I found myself curiously watching the footage, a yelp almost leaving my mouth when the two men sprung back as something wet exploded out of it. It covered the two in a sticky-like substance and I watched amazed as Mr. Song’s rigid expression melted into that of amusement as Yunho’s head was thrown back, body shaking from his laughter. It only took another second before Mr. Song was also laughing, pulling his glasses off and nudging Yunho as the taller one clung to my boss and threw more of that weird substance at Mr. Song. I had never seen my boss so laid back and happy so it took me a second to snap out of it and stop admiring his crooked smile through the CCTV, subsequently remembering why I was here.

Adrenaline rushed through my system as I realized the guard could be back anytime and catch me red-handed, surely I’d be fired with a case on my hands then, and despite Song Mingi being a nightmare, the paycheck and people working here were too good for me to want to actually leave this company. So, I found the option that allowed me to rewind the footage, only to get my hopes crushed when it asked for a code. I bit my bottom lip and tried to recall the numbers the guard had typed in since I took a peek at the keyboard, but it was fruitless. I found myself slightly panicking and pulling at the collar of my blue striped shirt, the chain of my badge brushing against my hand. My eyes widened and I looked down at it wonderingly, could it work? Pressed by time, I decided to try my luck once again as I flipped my badge and searched for my security number on it. I glanced back at the screen and decided to do it, type in my security number. The worst that could happen was the artificial host that Mr. Song designed would recognize someone was trying to ‘hack’ into the system and shut down the whole company while alerting the police and Mr. Song—lovely.

Sweating a little as my finger hovered over the enter button, I took a deep breath and swiftly pressed it as I had wasted too much time already. To my surprise, the screen started loading as it scanned the code and then suddenly it flashed black before a new window popped up asking for a date and time. My jaw dropped open in surprise and I fumbled for a second as my heart thundered in my chest, unable to celebrate my victory as I pressed in the date and approximate time with shaky fingers, chewing on my bottom lip. I must’ve eaten the lip tint already despite applying it this morning with how much I bit and licked at my lips due to being nervous. The screen loaded once again and then there it was. Mr. Song in his office, all alone, the hallway dark outside as I had left just a few minutes ago. He was sat in his chair, leaned back with his legs spread wide open as he stared out the window, running his fingers through his hair. Something seemed to get his attention as a red light flashed on his desk, and I realized it was coming from the thing I assumed was his desk clock. His lips moved but there was no sound as the cameras only recorded images, and then I watched as Mr. Song’s jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. He sprung out of his chair and rushed towards the massive staircase, his fingers brushing against the books and the decorative piece I accidentally discovered myself.

I wasn’t surprised to see the staircase moving, making way to a dark passageway that was lit up as Mr. Song quickly hurried down, disappearing from the camera. I looked over the other windows and realized that there were no cameras in the room he had just gone in, so I prepared my phone's camera pointing it at the screen, and pressed record. The wait made it worse; my heart was thumping fast and every sound outside the door made me jump, but just when I considered fast-forwarding, Song Mingi appeared in the frame once again. No, not Song Mingi but Iron Man. Its mask was still open so nobody could even deny it that it wasn’t Song Mingi and I gasped as I watched him walk towards his window while pressing buttons on the left arm of his suit. The mask closed and the window slid to the left, making way for Iron Man to leave the office. And then, he was off, flying towards the metro station and leaving me gaping as I paused the footage and stopped my recording. My fingers shook as I fell back in the chair and I ran my fingers through my hair, not having actually expected Mr. Song to be Iron Man.

Of course, I was quite suspicious and even almost fully convinced it was him, but I fully expected to be proven otherwise since I was only being delusional, as Sooyoung had claimed. But no, it was real, my gut feeling was right once again. I took a second to try and wrap my mind around my findings and rationalize my next thought, but there were loud noises outside the room and I panicked, clicking through the windows and struggling to get rid of the footage I had just watched as I couldn’t find the ‘x’ button. The door opened just as I jumped out of the chair and raised my phone as if I had gotten an urgent text or phone call.

“Sorry about that, it was an urgent—”

“Mr. Song just texted me that he needs me up at the office, thank you but I’ll come back sometime else!” I rushed out as the security guard looked at me confused, stepping aside when I hurried towards the door.

“Oh, if you tell me the license plate, I can email it to—”

“Don’t worry about it!” I gave him a bright smile and a tap on his shoulder before I dashed outside, heart beating fast as I clutched my phone to my chest, the video in my gallery glaring back at me as I ran for the stairs, trying to keep my legs steady due to the heels I wore. But what would I do now? Do I tell Mr. Song that I know who he is? That I know he’s Iron Man? Or do I try to exploit this since he’s always an asshole and even a jerk to me? Does Mrs. Bae even know? What would she do in this situation? She’d certainly be disappointed in me if she were to know I tried blackmailing my boss, but if Mr. Song had been a nice person, then I wouldn’t have tried my luck with this crucial information on my hands.

Blackmailing it is, then.

The rest of the day felt like torture. Pacing up and down outside Mr. Song’s office while he was busy with his meetings and who knows what else didn’t help at all with soothing my nerves, and despite a quick Google search of effective blackmailing tactics, I still came up empty-handed. I had to admit that I wasn’t as brave as I had once regarded myself, but if there was one thing I knew about myself, it was that I was stubborn and determined to go through with this no matter what. I didn’t have an exact reason as to why I was doing this, but I was self-aware enough to realise that I wanted to feel in control, that I wanted to show Mr. Song that he wasn’t untouchable and neither the hot shit he believed himself to be. Of course, he could fire me and blacklist me at all companies, but as Wooyoung once had said, why live a boring life when you can bring a little edge and excitement into it by fucking it up yourself. He was right, but I didn’t know whether taking advice from someone like Wooyoung was smart or not.

So, without wanting to gain anything out of blackmailing Song Mingi, I decided to stay for as long as he did, and just be upfront when he’d be on his way home. Surely, he’d be too tired by then to give too many fucks about his stupid secretary assistant—now secretary replacement—and maybe he’d offer me more money, which…I would accept, obviously, but not without making a few demands like, he’d have to behave if he wanted to talk to me and respect me like any other male employee he had. Surely, I wasn’t asking for much, but with my boss, you never knew what was too much.

So, when it was well after working hours and my legs and back ached from sitting all day long, I decided to brew myself some tea and wait for another hour before I’d finally go home. Mr. Song had been cooped up in his office for hours now, the door closed and locked, and the windows were blurred so that only the light pouring out from underneath his door was the only visible thing and a tell-tale sign that he was still at the company. I couldn’t lie, I was actually quite curious about what he was doing in there, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to ask him—maybe I could ask Mrs. Bae once she had returned. While the kettle whistled and sizzled as I poured the hot water into my cup, I failed to hear that Mr. Song unlocked his door and opened it with a loud groan, too caught up in not spilling the hot water like I had done so before many times. With two spoonfuls of honey in it and the teabag thrown into the bin, I smiled in content as I made to return to my desk. Since I was still here, I figured I could phone up the accountant and settle the monthly appointment he had with Mr. Song, but I was scared out of my mind once I spotted Mr. Song’s tall frame leaning against the doorframe. His arm was up and pressing into the doorframe. His hair looked dishevelled, his black shirt was untucked from his pants with the top buttons unbuttoned, and his vest forgotten somewhere in his office.

I halted as if I was caught doing something bad and stared back at my boss as he fixed his thick glasses. He pursed his lips and looked rather displeased at seeing me, but his eyes curiously fell onto the cup I was holding, mindful of the hot ceramic, “What are you drinking?”

“Wildberry tea,” I answered and cleared my throat, resuming my walk over to my desk. Mr. Song hummed and licked his lips, eyes stuck to my form as I gave him a questioning look once I sat down in my chair.

“Could you make me some too?” He asked, sounding so unlike himself as his tone was laced with exhaustion, “Is it sweet?”

“Yeah, it’s sweet,” I said as he tapped the doorframe before he turned to head back inside his office.

“Make me some!” He called over his shoulder and I rolled my eyes, slouching in my chair. I didn’t want to get up again and fetch him some tea when my feet were killing me, he could get it himself, but he was too lazy and I knew he had fun walking me around all day as if I were his pet, it was infuriating. But perhaps this was my chance to finally do what I was here for, blackmail him. I grinned as I got up from my chair with a newfound passion, hurrying towards the kitchen to pour my boss tea and add two spoonfuls of honey. I placed the cup on a tray as well as three chocolate chip cookies, a napkin, and then I headed for Mr. Song’s office after I fetched my phone. It sat heavy in my dress pants’ pocket as I knocked on the open door as a heads up that I was heading in, and then I walked inside, my red high heels clicking loudly against the marble floor as it was dead silent in Mr. Song’s office.

It was dimly lit now, unlike when the door was closed and locked, and I let my eyes quickly run over the place as they lingered on the hidden door, it was closed, of course. I averted my eyes and looked back at my boss, whose eyebrows were furrowed and glasses discarded in front of him as he stared at his computer’s screen with mild annoyance on his face. Some strands of his black hair stuck up in places in a funny way, and I gulped down the chuckle that threatened to escape my lips, It was rather unusual seeing Mr. Song so stressed and pressed by whatever had him annoyed.

“Here’s your tea,” I announced as I came to a stop next to him, not too close though, and placed the tray carefully on the desk, in its usual spot. Mr. Song hummed, his eyes still glued to the screen, and too curious for my own good, I took a peek at it, surprised to find him reading the news about a war that’s been ongoing for way too long now. I never took Mr. Song as a person who would worry about others or would feel pressured to do something, but the creases on his forehead and the slight sneer on his lips were rather obvious factors that he wasn’t pleased with the development of the war. And then, looking at the article for a little longer, I realized they were bashing his weapons and his company. Now it made sense that he looked annoyed, suddenly I didn’t feel as brave as before to tell him that I knew he was Iron Man.

“Did you put sugar in it?” He suddenly asked and glanced at me, making me stand up straight and quickly avert my eyes from his computer’s screen.

“No, it’s better with honey,” I answered and his eyebrows only furrowed further as he glanced at the tray then back at me. He fell back in his chair and heaved a long sigh, chewing on his bottom lip. The longer I looked at him, the more I realized something was bothering him. I didn’t dare ask whether anything was wrong, and he said nothing as he continued looking at me. My heart had started beating faster and I gulped as my phone seemed to weigh bricks in my pocket, a reminder of why I was still at the company and not at home, in my bathtub soaking up my flowery scented bath bombs.

“I don’t like honey.” Mr. Song muttered at last and I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying something I might regret later. I sighed and reached for the teacup with a displeased expression on my face.

“Fine, I’ll bring you another one with sugar—”

“I’ll drink it.” I froze as he grabbed my hand, looking up at me with glimmering eyes, and suddenly I couldn’t think straight. He looked very much nothing like the man I had known for years, and it almost made me question myself. Could Mr. Song have an actual soft and caring side? Was he not always an arrogant prick who hit on women and only used them for his sexual needs? I gulped and looked down at our hands, his big palm was calloused and it almost completely engulfed my hand. It made my cheeks flush and I found myself speechless for a second.

“Oh, okay,” I said quietly and went to pull back, but Mr. Song didn’t release my hand just yet. His eyebrows were furrowed and he seemed to be in deep thought as he looked up at me again with defeat in his eyes.

“Do you ever feel alone, Miss Jang?” My eyes widened at the sincerity in his voice and more so because of the question he asked. I had never thought a man like Song Mingi would be asking me such a thing, certainly, he cannot be lonely, he’s got everyone and everything he could ever want. Perhaps it’s a trick question he can fire me over.

“I think everyone feels alone at times, Mr. Song.” I answered truthfully, not expecting him to nod along and hum in agreement. I almost jumped when his thumb started caressing my skin, covering my arms in goosebumps as I once again looked down at our hands. His touch was warm and gentle, inoffensive and almost as if he wasn’t doing it consciously as it was slow and inconsistent.

“Even if they are constantly surrounded by people?” I nodded as I continued looking down, shifting my weight from one leg to another.

“Of course, it doesn’t matter how many people are around us and, on our side, if they only want something from us.” I shrugged and looked up, finding Mr. Song already looking at me intensely. I gulped and continued unsurely, “I mean, many people only create connections to exploit them later on, so I think it’s important to surround ourselves with genuine people who want what’s best for us, like our friends.”

“And if the individual doesn’t have genuine friends?” Mr. Song suddenly stood and I felt a little intimidated as he placed my hand on his desk and pressed his over mine, pretty much trapping me in one place, unless I wanted to rip it out from underneath his touch.

“Then it must be a truly lonely life, Mr. Song, they should look for quality and not quantity.” My eyebrows furrowed as Mr. Song’s strong cologne reached my nose, and it was a sore reminder that I had a plan that I still hadn’t gone through with yet.

“There are few chances to meet genuine people in my line of work,” He chuckled bitterly and stepped closer, making me look up at him as my heart started racing uncomfortably once again. His proximity felt a little uncomfortable but not as bothersome as on my first day—perhaps because he had no regard for personal space and always managed to invade it somehow, even if he was just talking to you, “There are few people who see me for who I am.”

I hummed and bit my bottom lip to stop myself from slipping up and telling him that there was a reason for that and that it was because he was a complete asshole to almost absolutely everyone. But my silence seemed to only spur him on and I was rather surprised that my boss was pouring his heart out to me in his office, after working hours, “There’s few people who don’t want what I own and even fewer people who aren’t eager to get in my good graces just because I’m powerful and able to change their lives for the better or worse. And even fewer women who wouldn’t bed me just because I’m rich and own a mansion and luxurious cars.”

Ah, so Mr. Song was only trying to get in my pants. I was surprised to find myself disappointed and bitter as the thought settled deep in my mind while Mr. Song’s hand slowly gripped my wrist, pulling me gently towards himself as I was unable to react just yet. I thought we were having a genuine conversation about a rather trivial issue that everyone faced daily, but no, he just wanted to fuck me. I should’ve expected it, of course, he wasn’t trying to pour his soul out to someone willing to listen, even if that someone was his secretary’s assistant. Of course, he wasn’t a good human being who tried to find solace in another one, to make a genuine connection and speak honestly. Instead of being disappointed by Mr. Song’s actions, I should’ve been more disappointed in myself and the fact that I believed he could be good even if for a few minutes. It made me want to cry, but instead, I felt rage simmer under my skin and my expression became schooled as Mr. Song continued staring into my eyes deeply, his face coming closer and closer. I didn’t move, I let him grip my waist and angle his head so that his lips would brush against mine, and then I spoke.

“I know you’re Iron Man.”

Song Mingi froze, face giving nothing away but his body went rigid and his grip on my waist and wrist tightened. He didn’t have to say anything for me to know that he felt caged, that his mind was twisting and turning to find a reasonable answer that could deny my claim. But I wouldn’t stop now because he didn’t deserve it. He was a piece of shit and I have had enough of him.

“Don’t try to deny it.” My voice was bitter and tone snappy as I glared into his eyes, gripping his arm to push it off my wrist, “I have proof, Mr. Song, and I will take it to newspapers if you try to sweet talk your way out of this.”

“What do you want?” Mr. Song’s was eerily cold, eyes that had been previously soft now all sharp and glaring as he leaned down so that we’d be eye to eye, our jaws clenched as I hoped my expression conveyed the spite I felt towards him.

“Nothing,” I shrugged and watched as his eyebrows formed a small frown, “Nothing material that is, but you should start fixing your attitude towards your employees and women especially. It’s sickening that you think you can toy around with us and then fire us because you got bored of fucking the same person, Mr. Song. It’s disgusting—you are disgusting by doing this.”

He released me at once and took a step back, furious very obviously as he scoffed, pushing his hair back and out of his eyes, “And this concerns you how? I thought you were a mere employee and not my mother, Miss Jang, but by all means, please tell me what else I need to fix to fall into your good graces.”

I smiled at him, all sarcastic and ready to tell him to fuck himself, “The last thing I wish for is to spend more time with you, sir, so don’t worry, you won’t have to fall into my good graces, I don’t think that’s even possible at this point. I was merely making a suggestion, perhaps you’d feel less alone if you tried to maintain a pure and genuine connection with someone for once.”

“If that is all, you can go home, Miss Jang.” Mr. Song crossed his arms in front of his chest, lips forming a sneer, “Maybe I shouldn’t have saved you if you’re so ungrateful.”

“Spiderman saved me, not you.” I snapped with fire in my voice, annoyed and irritated, “Even when you’re supposed to save someone all you can do is be arrogant and satisfy your need to show you’re superior to others, it’s pitiful—”

“Out, now.”

With one last shared glare full of spite, I stormed out of his office and Mr. Song walked after me to slam his door closed shatteringly strong.

I should have been fired. I know I should have been because I was disrespectful to my boss, and perhaps if I had been in his place, I would’ve fired myself for sure. But I knew his secret and maybe that played a part in me keeping this job for who knows how long. But still, I should have been fired, or at least never spoken to again by Mr. Song, so explain why I found a fancy black box in front of my front door this morning after I returned from grocery shopping. Yes, it was Saturday and I was expected to show up at this fancy get-together to celebrate the collaboration of the two companies, and yes, I did consider emailing Mr. Song that I had fallen ill and wouldn’t make it. So, imagine my complete shock when I unboxed my anonymous package and found a gorgeous black dress with the price still on, making my jaw drop not once but twice. It cost a fortune and I might as well have lost my mind when I found the small note tucked underneath the satin fabric.

There’s a dress code for the party, wear this. ~ S.M.

Perhaps getting an existential crisis would’ve sounded much better than getting an insanely expensive cocktail dress gifted by your boss to an event you had no business attending, but because his secretary couldn’t go you had to fill in for her. I love Mrs. Bae dearly, but this was not in the job description when I sent my resume in. I knew people of all sorts would be there, all important and owners of multifaceted businesses and companies that were just as rich as Mr. Song’s, and I was understandably nervous. I knew I wasn’t supposed to speak to anyone, which I was more than glad to do, but what if anyone spoke to me? What was I supposed to do then? Mind racing with all different sorts of scenarios, I decided to ask Sooyoung to come over and help me get ready—which was actually just a distraction from the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about that damned Song Mingi.

Sooyoung, as always, was a sweetheart and made me laugh while we had lunch, while Wooyoung harassed us with phone calls, saying that he also wanted to come over and participate in all the gossiping he knew we’d be doing. San wasn’t available tonight, which meant that Wooyoung would be bored, but in the end, threatening to block his number on both phones managed to calm him down, so he finally left us alone. Sooyoung just sighed and apologized because Wooyoung was still clingy after three years of dating, and Sooyoung knew I could get easily annoyed and overwhelmed by her overbearing boyfriend. But I knew he meant well, and I never guilt-tripped Sooyoung too much for her boyfriend’s obnoxious personality.

But the moment to get ready came and I was more than mortified when Sooyoung emptied her tote bag on my bed and started listing off all the lotions and serums and perfumes and bath bombs she brought over for me to use, “You never know where you’ll meet your man, Y/N, you must be ready at all times!”

“Does that mean I must exfoliate my body with three different body soaps?!”

“Well, obviously yes! Your skin needs to be soft!”

“My skin is already soft, you know that. I’m not using all of that Sooyoung, please.”

“Fine, but shave at least, okay? For me?”

“I don’t shave, I only wax.”

“But tonight—”

“I’m not going there because I’m trying to bag a billionaire, Sooyoung, I’m going because my boss told me to go.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“And risk getting fired?”

“Fair enough, go on then, time is ticking, bestie.”

And that is how I found myself two hours into getting ready, only a few more minutes until Jongho buzzed me to go down so that he could drive us to the company. Sooyoung helped me do a low bun that sat securely at my nape, front strands curled and framing my face prettily. My makeup was simple because I refused to let her help me with a smokey eye, I opted to wear a softer eye look so that I could wear my red lipstick. Sooyoung had a similar reaction to me when she saw my dress, and her jaw was on the floor as she reluctantly touched the glittery tulle dress, eyes switching between me and the dress.

“So, he bought this for you?” She asked with her mouth still hanging open as I changed into clean underwear in my bathroom.

“I’m sure he had it lying around somewhere in that big mansion of his,” I muttered with a scoff and Sooyoung tsked.

“No, I’m sure he bought it specifically for you, Y/N.” I rolled my eyes and prayed the stockings wouldn’t rip as I pulled them over my knees.

“Yeah, sure, I’m not some peasant turned princess overnight, okay?” I muttered with a huff as I started sweating, this stocking was kicking me in the butt, had I gotten a size smaller?

“Y/N,” Sooyoung’s serious voice made me yelp as she appeared in the doorway, pushing the door open. She had an incredulous look on her face like she had seen a ghost or had been just proposed to, I couldn’t decide, “Your name is on the tag, sewn into it, more specifically—”

“What?” I asked alarmed as I pushed past her and went to my bed to see for myself. I managed to adjust my stockings and gave a last prayer that they wouldn’t rip until I made it back home, then I wouldn’t care about it anymore. I held the dress carefully and touched the tag, leaning down to see it better. My eyes widened when I realized Sooyoung wasn’t joking, and I looked at her with round eyes, “What?!”

“Exactly!” Sooyoung shrieked and I gulped, jerking my head away when she came and hugged my side, “Are you sure you’re not into your boss?”

“Yes, very sure.” I huffed and made sure Sooyoung wouldn’t ruin my hair or makeup as I let her continue embracing me.

“Not even a little bit?” She grinned and batted her eyelashes at me, “Because I’m sure he is into you—”

“Alright, stop right there.” I groaned and pulled myself out of her embrace, “My boss is a womanizer and two days ago he tried to tell me a sob story to try and get into my pants, so no, Song Mingi isn’t into me and I’m not into him. Case closed, Sooyoung, I hate him and I hope he hates me too. I cannot wait for Mrs. Bae to return so that I don’t have to face him ever again.”

Sooyoung pursed her lips and gave me a look as she raised the dress for me, “Fine, but nobody gifts a dress like this—”

“He’s a millionaire—if not billionaire at this point—so no, Sooyoung, he can gift me a dress like that because it’s nothing compared to how much he spends monthly.” Before Sooyoung could oppose, I raised my hand, “I know because I’m the one who puts together his monthly expenses.”

“Okay, whatever.” Sooyoung huffed in defeat and walked closer, “Jongho is supposed to arrive any minute now, let’s get you into the dress.”

And I let my best friend help me wear the expensive and gorgeous dress, soft against my skin and exactly my size. I didn’t want to think too hard about how Mr. Song knew my exact size, but I suppose when you sleep with so many women, one glance at their bodies and you just know. A rather disturbing and disgusting thought that I didn’t care to dwell on too much right now.

The dress reached past my knees and the sparkly fabric that came over the satin didn’t bother my skin at all. The corset bustier was semi-transparent and had a heart-shaped neckline in the front and lacing back, complemented with a sparkly black cape, which came with voluminous sheer puffy long sleeves. The gown was made of sparkly tulle and satin, its skirt puffy and creating the impression that I was wearing a puffed-up princess gown. Both Sooyoung and I stayed silent as we stared at me through the mirror and I gulped, twisting and turning to check myself out from all angles. I hated to admit it, but Mr. Song’s taste was spectacular. The dress looked rather pretty on me and delicately suited my shape and form. Each time I attempted to finally step away from the mirror and stop admiring myself, I found something new to marvel at, and, thus ended up grinning from ear to ear when Sooyoung started snapping chaotic pictures of me, the both of us a giggling mess when there was a buzz at the intercom. We froze and looked at each other and then I was racing towards it. I knew it was Jongho, but it could’ve been anyone else too.

“This is Jongho, I’ll be waiting by the car.” The man’s gruff voice said through the intercom and I felt jittery and nervous all over again.

“I’ll be down in a second!”

Sooyoung already had my coat and purse in her hands, and I gave her a grateful smile as I quickly wore my high heels, not keen on making Jongho wait too long for me. Sooyoung grabbed her stuff quickly too and then we were out the door, the front door locked, and headed for the elevator in a hurry. The ride down was filled with more laughter as Sooyoung tried to distract me since I was feeling nervous, but it didn’t help much when I spotted Jongho leaning against Mr. Song’s sleek Mercedes-Benz, a sophisticated beige colour. Despite not having vast knowledge about cars, I knew that this one was a classic as I have heard my boss gloat about it to others not once or twice, but many times. The car was from around the seventies and the model’s name seemed to stick with me, it was a Pagoda. It felt illegal to touch it, let alone lean against it as casually as Jongho was doing.

“Good evening, ladies.” There was a playful glint in his eyes as he bowed almost mockingly, and I huffed as I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“Hi, Jongho.” I greeted as Sooyoung waved at him, the two knew each other because Wooyoung liked getting drunk at team dinners and it was usually Jongho who drove him home as he rarely drank, busy running after Mr. Song’s ass.

“Well, if we don’t leave in two minutes our lovely Mingi will have us both fired, so…” He trailed off as he pushed off the car and opened the door for me with that playful glint still present in his eyes. Jongho was a well-built man, strong no doubt, but with a soft and cute face and a smile that could charm many—I had been charmed too, unfortunately, since he knew how to use it to his advantage and made me lose a significant amount of money one time when he decided he wanted to play the claw machine. He was tenacious and smart, a deadly combination for a weak-hearted person.

“Don’t worry, Jongho,” I gave him a huge grin as I walked closer, “we’re too precious to be fired, after all, who would clean up Mr. Song’s mess if we weren’t there for him?”

“That’s right,” Jongho muttered and I pressed a quick kiss to Sooyoung’s cheek before I hurriedly sat inside the fancy car, mindful not to scratch the red leather and interior of the car. It was beautiful and expensive, I didn’t understand how Mr. Song allowed anyone else to drive the car, but after all, Jongho was a trustworthy person and a good driver. Besides, I am pretty sure Jongho is the only person who Mr. Song considers to be his friend despite him being his employee, and I’m also pretty sure Mr. Song is a little bit afraid of Jongho because he never misbehaves when the other is around.

“Are you joining us at the party?” I asked curiously as Jongho sat inside too and ignited the engine to life, the rumble a low purr, a rather satisfying sound. Sooyoung grinned at us and waved as Jongho carefully pulled out of the parking lot, and we were off to S. Industries, my heart in my throat. I could only hope at least one familiar face would be at the party, someone I could talk to and hide behind if necessary.

“I’m not in the mood, to be honest,” Jongho said with his lips pursed, turning onto the main street with ease. The hardtop of the car was on as the weather didn’t allow us to ride without it, something I would’ve actually really enjoyed doing now, “But Mingi did say he wanted me there so I’ll just stick close to the exit. You know, doing bodyguard stuff.”

I chuckled and adjusted myself in the seat, admiring the interior as I carefully reached forward to touch the dashboard. I’ve seen the car numerous times but I have never come as close to it as I was right now, “Are you nervous?”

I gulped and looked at Jongho as he sped through the yellow light, “Is it that obvious? I’m shitting my pants, I’m not going to lie.”

Jongho laughed, sounding cute and warm, and his lips stayed in their usual gummy smile, “You should relax, you’re not supposed to do anything, so really, it’s just a good opportunity to get to know more people. Maybe someone steals you from Mr. Song and then there’ll be a big scandal that I’ll happily enjoy from the sidelines.”

“I know I have no actual reason to be nervous, but I’ve never been to an event like this one before and I just…I don’t know, actually.” I sighed and looked out the window as Jongho turned onto the street where the company was situated at, traffic was scarce tonight, “I’m not particularly fond of people like Mr. Song.”

“Mingi especially.” Jongho muttered with a cackle and gave me an encouraging smile as we stopped at the gates of the underground parking lot of the company, “You’ll see you’ll find likeable people tonight, maybe some new friends even. At least I know Mr. Park is a very humble and generous man, if you stir up a conversation with him, he’ll be more than happy to indulge.”

“Wait,” Suddenly I realized something I hadn’t thought about before, “Wooyoung will be here too, right?”

We were let in as the gate opened and Jongho waved at the guard as we drove inside the parking lot, “Yeah, unfortunately. Who do you think will drive his drunk ass home tonight? Me, and I don’t want to, but I’m a good friend.”

“I thought you weren’t friends.” They were, but Jongho denied it every chance it was brought up since he was embarrassed by Wooyoung’s personality. Jongho grumbled something and I chuckled as he parked the car rather skilfully.

“He said he won’t take me to the Bahamas if I keep denying that we’re friends, so…” He gave me a look which made me laugh, and we both got out of the car once it was parked with the engine killed. But for the rest of the way, we remained silent, especially since the elevator was filled with people dressed in fancy outfits as they were headed up to the fifteenth floor, which totally had a ballroom sort of thing going on. I didn’t want to wonder much about why such a room existed in a company like Song Mingi’s, but I supposed he’d flaunt his wealth any time he could.

The hallway was decorated with golden accents and dimly lit, a red carpet laid out, guiding you towards the entrance of the ballroom. I followed the others as I stuck to Jongho’s side, and he gave me a grin as we reached the entrance, bodyguards stopping everyone to check their invites and if their names were on the list. It was a pretty exclusive party, people couldn’t just sneak in if they wanted to. It was mainly to avoid a bunch of press people and journalists who liked to stick their noses where they didn’t belong to. I froze for a second when I noticed the security guard who helped me, sort of, by the door as recognition passed his face when he spotted me. I tried to look normal as I nodded towards him and thankfully, he was distracted by Jongho when he went over to greet his colleagues. He wished me luck and then I was off, greeted by Chanyeol when he told the bodyguard to let me through since I was Mr. Song’s secretary (assistant).

The inside of the ballroom was better lit than the hallway, it was decorated with anything golden, and there was a bar filled with people ordering drinks. Orchestra music was playing at a pleasant volume so that people could converse but also dance if they so wished to do, and I found myself not knowing what to do now. I stood awkwardly in the doorway and then decided to move towards my left, keeping close to the wall as waiters walked around with trays, carrying champagne and even some snacks and fruits. Everyone was dressed to the nines and most women wore festive gowns or cocktail dresses and jewellery that glimmered in the lightning subtly, surely worth more than everything I owned as they were mostly diamonds, no doubt. I felt out of place as I slipped out of my coat and looked around, trying to find a hanger or anything. There was none and I jumped when a waiter suddenly stood in front of me with a bored look on his face.

“Champagne?” I wanted to refuse but one quick glance around me told me that everyone had a glass in their hands, so I accepted it, fumbling with my coat and purse.

“Do you know where I can put these down?” I motioned towards my belongings and the waiter sighed before he extended his arm.

“There’s a wardrobe, I’ll take it there.” And then he went to walk off, but paused, “Do you perhaps work for Mr. Song?”

“I do.” Suddenly I felt extra self-conscious, was it that obvious that I didn’t belong here?

“Oh, good.” The waiter seemed to perk up a bit, even smiling a little, “You’re Miss Jang, his secretary?”

“Uh, secretary assistant.” I corrected him, and he just waved it off.

“Yeah, good, I’ll put your stuff with Mr. Song—”

“Don’t do that!” I almost but exclaimed, and quickly blushed when a woman who walked by us gave me a look, “I mean, please, I can hold onto it or something—”

“These are Mr. Song’s orders, so I can’t really go against it.” Then he bowed his head a bit and walked off before I could object some more, leaving me with wide eyes. Why would Song Mingi bother with telling the waiters to take my belongings to where his were? It made no sense, but perhaps that’s the treatment I got for being here in Mrs. Bae’s place. I cradled the champagne glass in my hands and looked around, looking for Wooyoung even if he was annoying and embarrassing. Although I doubted Mr. Song would’ve let him come if he didn’t know how to behave in a place like this. But as my eyes surveyed the crowd, instead of finding my best friend’s boyfriend, I found my boss. Unsurprisingly, he was at the bar, leaning against it as he was chatting to some pretty woman who was all smiles and laughed at almost everything Mr. Song said. I couldn’t imagine anything my boss ever said would be funny, but he most definitely acted differently towards people who weren’t his employees. I mean, he was well-known for sleeping with women left and right, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he was on the hunt tonight despite the gravity of this event.

He held a glass in his hands, and I wasn’t surprised to see a ring on almost every finger of his, the one with a big ruby in it rather eye-catching. Being himself, Mr. Song certainly dressed to impress, and as I took in his attire, I realized with alarm that indeed there was a dress code to this event and it wasn’t black. Every woman in the room wore different shades of golden or beige, all light and sparkly at times, meanwhile the men wore mostly beige or a darker shade of cream. Eyes snapping back to Mr. Song, I realized it was quite literally just the two of us wearing black outfits, and suddenly I felt really stupid and embarrassed as I stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd. I now understood why everyone was giving me looks once they passed by me, and I had to take several deep breaths to stop myself from blowing up or crying, I couldn’t decide which one just yet.

Mr. Song’s blazer was cropped and put accent onto his shoulders, and perhaps it was glitterier than my dress and all the other ones combined. His pants seemed to be high-waisted and loose as they came down past his ankles, and as he angled his body to face the front of the room, my eyes widened when I spotted him wearing nothing but a simple vest underneath his blaze. It came up to his pecks and it was buttoned up all the way, stopping just above the hem of his dress pants. Heavy silver chains hung around his neck, complementing the jewellery on his fingers and bringing out his tan complex more. I didn’t understand why I had to be wearing black as well, surely, he didn’t want anyone else stealing the spotlight from him, yet here I was, merely a secretary assistant with our outfits assorted even down to their sparklines. I hated it, I concluded that it made me want to cry and I swiftly downed my champagne in one go, jaw clenching and eyes glaring as I turned my head away, unable to look at my asshole of a boss anymore.

I tried to hunt down another waiter with a tray to place my empty glass onto, but they were nowhere to be seen, so I just stormed towards the exit with the glass still in my hands. People were still coming in and it proved to be a bit hard to leave the room as I had to wait until everyone came inside, and unfortunately, Chanyeol had spotted me.

“Y/N,” He said with a small smile as he checked a man’s invitation, “You look gorgeous, that dress looks amazing on you. It’s almost as if it was tailored for you.”

I gulped to force down the lump in my throat and tried to smile as the man he allowed inside gave me a long look, a smirk appearing on his lips, “Thank you, do you think I could slip out for a second?”

“Bathroom break?” Chanyeol chuckled, and meanwhile I usually appreciated how carefree he was, I wasn’t in the mood to chit-chat around with him. I nodded wordlessly and he asked a lady to step aside for a second so that I could leave. I was glad that Jongho was nowhere to be seen as I stormed down the hallway, aimlessly as I had never been on this floor before and had no idea where the bathroom even was. The music grew to just a mere hum as I rounded a corner and found myself standing in a lobby, huge doors to my left and right. It was the restrooms and I headed for the emerald-coloured couch in the middle of the room. It was a semi-circle and had its back to the other couch and I plopped down on it, not minding my dress as I slouched, placing the glass on the floor next to my leg. I sighed loudly and closed my eyes, trying to calm my nerves since all I wanted to do was walk up to my boss and demand an explanation as to why he bought me a black dress. Was he mocking me? Was he making fun of me? Did he enjoy berating his hard-working employees? Was this some sort of stupid powerplay? I was furious and I was ready to go on a full whispered rant when the doors to the men’s restroom slammed shut loudly. I had missed the footsteps, but it seemed like whoever entered hadn’t noticed me either.

I knew hiding out here wasn’t smart on my part as Mr. Song would certainly want to see me, so I took a deep breath and told myself that I could call him out later or at the office on Monday, if not tonight. I couldn’t let him get under my skin again, I had to be better than that. Perhaps I should find Wooyoung and grab a drink with him, let him introduce me to some smart people and watch where the night takes us. Grabbing the glass, I rose and fixed my dress, checking myself out in the big mirror to make sure I looked fine. My cheeks were a bit rosy from my sudden anger, but if I plastered on my fake smile, nobody could tell I wasn’t feeling so fine. I took off and rounded the corner just as the men’s restroom door opened again, slamming shut irritatingly. Already annoyed, I stopped and intended to call out whoever was keen on slamming doors, but the hushed voices made me halt.

“She’s gone, bring out the weapons.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for longer?”

“All the important ones are already here, I don’t want more collateral victims than necessary.”

“Fine, boss.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I remained rooted to my spot, not having a good feeling at all about this. Who were these people and why were they talking about weapons and victims? I thought this was a highly secured event, so these two must’ve been on the list or something. Otherwise, it made no sense to how they got in.

“That Song prick will pay tonight for fucking us over, Sehun, mark my words.”

“When do you want to attack?”

“When he gets up on the podium for his fucking speech.”

“And his secretary?”

My heart stilled as my eyebrows furrowed, and I made sure to stay out of view as I listened attentively, disregarding my red lipstick as I had started chewing on my bottom lip.

“It’s not that old hag anymore, pity, the new one is rather gorgeous, isn’t she?”

“Do you want me to take her hostage, sir?”

“Yeah, kill her if Song isn’t cooperating.”

I gasped and pressed my hands against my mouth, hoping I wasn’t loud, my heart beating fast as my hands started shaking. My ears rang for a second and I swore my head became hazy, but I had to focus. I had to stop this before anything would happen. I wasn’t dying, and nobody was getting hurt tonight.

I knew exactly who to tell.

With a racing heart and unstable legs, I hurried down the hallway, grateful for the red carpet as my heels made no sound. I ignored everyone as I very rudely pushed people out of my way, ignoring Chanyeol’s smile and questions as I snapped at him to get out of my way. Jongho was back and his eyebrows furrowed when he saw my disposition, but I had no time to speak to anyone but Song Mingi—Iron Man. I felt judging eyes on me as I tried to keep my breaths laboured, eyes frantically searching the crowd for my boss, my heart beating even faster. As his secretary, I have read through the schedule and I knew Mr. Song’s speech was soon, I really couldn’t waste even one more second. Taking a breath to calm my nerves and think clearly, my eyes fell towards the bar and that’s where I spotted my boss. Without thinking, I marched over to him—and the woman he was with—pushing people out of my way without apologizing, but I’m sure they’d understand if they knew what was soon to occur.

“Mr. Song!” I called out with an edge before even reaching my boss, but he didn’t react as he probably didn’t even hear me, too busy leaning towards the woman he was talking with as he touched her bare shoulder, trailing his fingers down her skin. My eyebrows furrowed as I came to a stop rather close to them, but neither seemed to notice me just yet, “Mr. Song.”

At the insistency in my tone, my boss cast a glance my way and I watched as his grin turned forced, “I’m busy Miss Jang, find me after the speech—”

“I cannot do that, sir, I need to speak to you in private.” When the woman gave me a dirty look, I felt my jaw clenching, “Right now.”

Mr. Song seemed just as displeased by my rude interruption as the lady—but she seemed to be more pressed about my presence as she leaned back against the bar and took me in from head to toe—but when I pushed my trembling hands behind my back and looked at my boss with pleading eyes, he seemed to realize something was wrong, so very wrong, “Please, Mr. Song, we need to talk.”

He cleared his throat and adjusted his sparkly blazer as he gave the woman a dashing smile, grabbing her hand to press a faint kiss against her knuckles, “Don’t get too bored in my absence, Miss Han, I’ll be right back.”

She chuckled and nodded her head, then threw me another dirty glare, and then Mr. Song was finally looking at me with questioning eyes and without thinking, I grabbed his wrist and took off, pulling him after myself urgently. I apologized to people this time as we walked through the crowd, headed for the exit, and Jongho tried to stop us when he noticed us, but Mr. Song raised his hand to stop him. I was too scared to walk towards the restrooms as I didn’t know whether the men were still there, so instead, I guided us towards the elevator.

“What is your problem?” Mr. Song’s tone was sharp as he snapped once I stopped walking and I whirled around, his eyes were narrowed as they sharply looked down at me.

“Someone wants to hurt you.” I rushed out and before Mr. Song could interrupt me, I continued, “I needed a moment so I went to the restroom and after leaving, I heard two men talking and they were saying they will make you pay and—they have weapons, Mr. Song, they—they said they’ll kill me if you don’t cooperate with them—”

“This isn’t a prank or a joke, right?” Mr. Song asked as he stepped closer, and I quickly shook my head, grip around his wrist tightening.

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this!” I hissed as Mr. Song’s eyebrows furrowed and worry coated his expression, “They’ll attack before your speech.”

Mr. Song averted his eyes as they seemed to cloud over with even more worry and stress and then suddenly, he stepped closer, eyes boring into mine, fierce and burning with determination, “Do you know their names?”

“One is called Sehun.” I barely finished my sentence when Mr. Song tsked and looked at the ceiling, looking irked as I finally released his wrist, a little embarrassed for having held onto it for so long. Mr. Song licked his lips and then glanced down at me, opening his mouth to speak when there was laughter behind us and chatter. I barely blinked when I felt myself shoved backwards as my back collided with the wall, Mr. Song’s tall form looming over me as he caged me in between himself and the wall. My eyes widened in surprise and out of reflex, I tried to push him away. I grabbed his waist and attempted to wrestle myself out of the hold, but Mr. Song only pushed his body against mine as the laughter and chatter came closer.

“What are you doing?!” I whisper-shouted as I looked up at him with a glare, blood boiling that he wasn’t taking the situation seriously again and was trying to do—whatever with me.

“I’m sorry, Miss Jang, but everyone saw us walk outside together and, well, I have a reputation to uphold, you know?” He smirked and lowered his head as I sputtered, trying to push him away once again, “I will let you go when they have walked past us, stop being so fussy.”

“I wouldn’t be so fussy if you weren’t pinning me against a wall against my own will, sir, kindly fuck off.” I snapped and Mr. Song dared to chuckle, “There’s lives on your hands and you’re here with me instead, play-pretending that something that isn’t happening is happening, putting everyone’s life at risk—”

“Relax a little, will you?” Mr. Song groaned and poked my forehead with a finger, making me flinch away, “They won’t attack until I give my speech, so, we’re good. I could just not say that speech the whole night and everyone would be okay—”

“No, because they want revenge and they will get it, no matter what.” The people enjoying themselves had almost reached us now, Mr. Song cradled my jaw with one hand and tilted my head up, making my heart race as I gulped, “What we all need right now is a superhero to save the day, sir, we need Iron Man.”

“I thought Spiderman was the one who saved you.” Mr. Song’s voice dropped low as his eyes searched my face and I felt breathless for a second, his cologne strong and wrapping around us, “But you’re asking for Iron Man now? Don’t you hate me? Wouldn’t you rather have someone else save the day—”

“I don’t give a fuck who saves the day, Mr. Song, as long as they stop those two men, alright?” My jaw clenched and my eyes threatened to flutter closed as Mr. Song’s head lowered and his lips came close to mine, “I know you’ve done good things before, just—I don’t want to die.”

“I know.” Mr. Song whispered and suddenly the people went quiet as they had spotted us, “I don’t want you to die either.”

Mr. Song and I stared into each other’s eyes as I let his words sink in, trying to desperately ignore my quickening heartbeat and the way my muscles seemed to tense when he smiled softly, the hand holding my jaw coming to play with the front strands of my hair before he pushed them behind my ear. The people in the hallway suddenly giggled and muttered something about Mr. Song clearly enjoying himself, and then they rushed off while looking at us curiously. I exhaled once they were gone from sight and thought Mr. Song would release me, but his eyebrows were furrowed and he looked conflicted. I raised my eyebrows at him and slightly tried to push him away again, but he barely took a step back.

“I need you to go back to the ballroom and tell Jongho that there’s been a change to our plans, then tell Chanyeol to announce that my speech will be soon starting, alright?” His tone was soft and almost worried as I nodded, finally able to relax as Mr. Song completely released me and stepped away, his warmth disappearing with him. I gulped and fixed my hair, pulling the strands back to frame my face once again, failing to notice that Mr. Song watched me closely with a small gulp, “You’re gorgeous tonight, Miss Jang.”

My head snapped up and I looked at Mr. Song with an alarmed expression, but with a nod of his head he was gone and I knew what I had to do next. So, heeding his words, I ran back to the ballroom and called Jongho aside to tell him there’s been a change to their plans, watching as realization crossed his features. He squared his shoulders as his expression became schooled and cold, different from the man I knew. He thanked me and told me to stay safe before he was gone too, and then I knew that Jongho also knew who Song Mingi was. Next, I told Chanyeol to gather everyone and announce that Mr. Song would be giving his speech soon, and then I walked closer to the exit, eyes surveying the crowd and trying to figure out who the two men were. Nobody looked suspicious, and I felt more and more nervous as time went by and the room filled up with even more people. Everyone was eager to see and hear my boss, and the room was filled with loud chatter as the music had stopped playing. I jumped when the doors were closed and Jongho stood in front of them, hands intertwined in front of him and eyes steely as he looked around, searching.

The lights flickered and everyone looked at each other, surprised and a little confused, and then the lights went out completely. I gasped as the chatter died down at once, my breaths quick as my muscles tensed, waiting for the worst. I could tell everyone thought this was a trick Mr. Song came up with, but I knew just in how great danger we were. But then, before I could panic more and even start crying, the lights were back on and nothing changed. The stage was still empty and nobody had moved from their spots, I felt confused as Jongho and I shared a glance. Perhaps it was a malfunction or something, but that was unexpected and almost impossible as the building had backup generators that kicked in as soon as the electricity went out. Then, somebody cleared their throat loudly.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” People whirled around as we looked towards where the modified voice came from, a red iron costumed man stood behind the bar, polishing a glass. I could feel everyone’s confusion as they gaped at Iron Man, some even looked excited, and I caught Jongho’s amused smile before I looked back at Mr. Song, “I heard you’re waiting for Song Mingi’s speech, he’s a really good friend of mine, did you know that? We’re practically like twins, that’s how close we are.”

People laughed and some even got their phones out to snap pictures as Iron Man placed both the rag and glass onto the bar, resting his elbows on it as he leaned forward, chin in his palms, “Before I let my dear twin proceed with his speech, I heard there are people here who had planned a surprise for all of us. Kim Junmyeon, are you in the room with us?”

The crowd went silent again and looked around, my eyebrows furrowed as I tried to see if anyone reacted weirdly, but I couldn’t tell as there were many people in there. Iron Man chuckled and then stood up straight, trailing an iron finger against the counter, “I heard you brought your little brother too, Oh Sehun, so where are you two hiding?”

The lights went out and I yelped when I felt someone touch my wrist, bony fingers curling around my skin as I started yanking my arm free. Then, two spotlights suddenly snapped on and I whipped my head to my left frantically, ready to punch my captor and free myself and was rather glad to see Wooyoung. His eyes were big and he looked confused and borderline scared too, “I hate the dark, what the fuck is happening?”

“Are you drunk?” I whispered as I looked towards the spotlights, two men were illuminated. One stood in the middle of the crowd, which now had made way and stepped away as if sensing danger, and the other man was rather close to the exit, Jongho’s fierce glare was fixed onto the man.

“No, but I wish I was.” Wooyoung whispered, moving closer until his side was pressing into mine, “Are we going to die?”

“We shouldn’t,” Then I looked towards Iron Man who slowly walked around the bar, somehow managing to look menacing as the two men put on the spot looked towards each other, expressions tense and eyes glaring, “Do you trust Iron Man?”

“Fuck yes,” Wooyoung whispered as his grip tightened around my wrist, “remember that bad accident I was involved in? He’s the guy that saved me before the engine exploded, I owe him my life.”

I looked at Wooyoung with surprise as his eyes remained on Iron Man, slightly shaking but filled with admiration. Wooyoung rarely spoke of his accident, and even when he did, he never mentioned how he got out of the car, saying something about it being too traumatic to be spoken of. I gulped and grabbed his hand, squeezing it, “We’re not dying then.”

“We better not, I wanted to propose to Sooyoung next week.” But before I could react to Wooyoung’s words, everyone gasped as the two men drew guns, and my eyes widened as Wooyoung suddenly stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body. My heart swelled and I gripped the back of his shirt as I looked at Jongho who was moving towards the one that stood close to him.

“Fuck off, you arrogant prick!” The man in the middle of the crowd exclaimed, enraged as he pointed his gun towards my boss, “What’s the meaning of this? Where’s Song Mingi?!”

Iron Man chuckled and as he started walking towards the man, the crowd parted for him as everyone ducked down in fear, “He’s busy fucking his secretary assistant.”

“Fuck off.” I hissed as my glare bore into the side of Iron Man’s iron mask, and as if sensing my rage, the superhero’s head turned just briefly, but I knew Mr. Song was looking at me. Wooyoung cackled in front of me, as if the situation was actually funny, but didn’t question it despite it being about me. Did Wooyoung know too, perhaps, that our boss was the superhero?

“Well, Mr. Kim, now that the man you’re searching for isn’t here, won’t you lower your weapons?” Iron Man turned his head, “You too, Mr. Oh.”

A man yelped as the one closer to the door suddenly sprung forward and grabbed him, holding his gun against the man’s head, a seething expression on his face, “I’ll blow his brains out if you don’t get Song Mingi in here, right now.”

But my boss didn’t react as Jongho slowly crept towards the pair, ready to fight off the man holding the weapon. Everyone screamed as a warning shot went off, the man in the middle had his gun pointed towards the ceiling before he pointed it at Iron Man again. There was a tsk and then Iron Man’s hand was pointed towards the criminal, something opening as blue light simmered in its palm, just like when he was supposed to save me.

“You’re being rude and you’re also destroying the décor.” Iron Man snapped and then walked just a bit closer, “You have five seconds to lower your weapons and it won’t be too painful this way.”

“Fuck you.” The two men spat in unison, and suddenly, the ceiling opened up and large weapons descended, pointed straight at the criminals' heads. They froze as the crowd went dead silent once again, everyone scared to make the wrong move as if they’d detonate the weapons. Two red dots sat on the criminals' foreheads, and I saw the one in the middle of the crowd slightly falter, fire dying out in his eyes.

“Still want to fuck me?” Iron Man chuckled, lowering his arm, “I only have to press one button and then both of you will be dead.”

I gulped and felt thankful for having Wooyoung with me as his presence brought comfort despite his shaking frame and constant silent curses, eyes darting between Iron Man and Jongho as the driver/bodyguard almost reached the criminal. Wooyoung looked like he wanted to help, but I grabbed his arm and halted him into place, knowing that I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to him.

“Give us Song Mingi.

“No.”

And then the man in the crowd fired shots at Iron Man foolishly, emptying his ammunition as Jongho tackled the other one to the ground, getting on top of him to pin him down as the doors slammed open and police officers filled in to take the two attackers hostage. Iron Man casually grabbed the criminal’s gun and snapped it into two before he headbutted him, the man instantly falling to the ground unconscious. Wooyoung seemed to relax as people tried to flee the place, scared and confused, but the police asked everyone to remain calm as the threat had been neutralized. The Captain greeted Iron Man before they collected the unconscious man off the floor, the other one was trashing around and screaming as they had him handcuffed and held down by five officers and Jongho. Despite it being over, I found it hard to breathe as my body continued to shake, and I had to bite my bottom lip to stop myself from crying. The incident at the metro was too fresh in my mind, and I couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t eavesdropped on the two men. Wooyoung, sensing my panic, turned and pulled me into a warm embrace, rubbing my back up and down as he muttered reassuring words, cracking jokes that weren’t helping at the moment. I did appreciate them, though.

Once the police took the two criminals and Iron Man mysteriously disappeared and Song Mingi showed up to do damage control, the crowd seemed to remain tense, and thus the party was postponed. Not everyone left, some decided to stay behind and drink and dance around, but as it neared midnight, few people remained. The event was ruined, but surprisingly, Mr. Song didn’t look too disappointed by it. After talking to the police and calming the crowd down and apologizing profusely, he sauntered over to the bar and downed a shot of tequila before beckoning Jongho over to drink some whiskey. The younger refused his offer but remained by his side, soon joined by a squeamish Wooyoung who was reluctant to leave me on my own. I assured him that I would be fine and needed the breather as I headed towards the huge windows to gaze outside. The city lights were pretty from the fifteenth floor, and I released a long sigh as I felt exhausted and ready to leave. I didn’t want to stay behind, but somehow both Wooyoung and Chanyeol managed to convince me as they offered me another glass of champagne to loosen up. Most of the employees stayed behind, eager to speak to their boss as it was a rare occasion if you didn’t work directly with him.

Distracted by the soft music and my own thoughts as I watched people walk down the street from time to time, I wasn’t aware that Mr. Song had approached me. He stood next to me, looking down at the city too, lips pursed as he spoke up quietly, “You did really well, Miss Jang, thank you.”

My eyes rounded as I turned my head to look at my boss, having never heard him thank anyone before so sincerely. It felt nice, it made my body jittery and my heart race a bit, “Would you like to dance?”

That surprised me as well as I froze, looking at my boss questioningly. Did he really want to share a dance with me? Although there weren’t many people who could see us, rumours spread quickly at our company—especially if they were about Song Mingi and his women.

“Uhm, alright,” I muttered and almost flinched when Mr. Song took my hand to walk us towards the dance floor. I gulped and stepped closer when we faced each other, Mr. Song’s free hand went to my lower back as he pressed our bodies together, and I gripped his shoulder as he, for some weird reason, intertwined our other hands. Our closeness felt a bit too much, too intimate, but I said nothing as it didn’t feel like he meant to do anything inappropriate. During this one week of working with him, I realized he sought out physical contact more often than not and stood rather close whenever he spoke to someone.

“Are you alright?” I chanced a glance at Mr. Song, but he wasn’t looking at me. I licked my lips and tried not to feel awkward as I nodded, suddenly reminded of when he comforted me while I didn’t know Iron Man’s identity.

“Yes, you—you did a good job tonight, sir, thank you.” My voice was small and I took a deep breath, feeling awfully vulnerable all of a sudden, “I wasn’t ready to be taken hostage again, I was scared.”

“I’ll keep you safe, Miss Jang, just don’t leave my sight.” Perhaps Mr. Song didn’t mean to say that as he gasped quietly right after before he cleared his throat and tapped my lower back, “Iron Man saves people too, you know? Not just Spiderman.”

“Are you really jealous over that?” I decided that I didn’t want us to be too vulnerable with each other, I still didn’t like my boss, so I tried to change the tone of the conversation. Mr. Song scoffed and moved us around the few dancing couples, he was rather good at dancing, fluid and gentle.

“I’m not the jealous type, besides, why would I be jealous of somebody like Yun—” The cut-off was way too abrupt and my ears perked up, eyes widening comically as I pulled my head back to look at Mr. Song’s face. He looked flabbergasted by his own words and I broke into giggles, averting my eyes when Mr. Song’s narrowed at me.

“I don’t think I was supposed to know the other superhero’s identity,” I said amused, and Mr. Song groaned as he gripped my hand just a bit tighter, as if warning me to stay silent. Well, at least now it made sense what I saw through the CCTV, that thing Yunho and Mr. Song were fixing had probably something to do with Spiderman’s web. So, it seems Jeong Yunho is Spiderman, what a small world.

“Just don’t tell anyone, specifically him, he’ll get excited and he’ll never shut up about himself—”

“Oh, sounds like he had a good mentor.” I mocked with a raise of my eyebrow and Mr. Song glared at me, “But I won’t tell anyone. Isn’t it even more dangerous for him, he’s still a teenager.”

“Do you worry about me as well, Miss Jang?”

“No.”

“That’s a pity, maybe you should.”

“You’re quite alright inside that iron suit.”

“Nothing is indestructible.”

“Then you’ll have to be more careful.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to be more careful now.” Our eyes bore into each other’s, and I felt my cheeks warm up as Mr. Song’s warm eyes were intense and curious, glinting with a seriousness that was rare to see on him. But it didn’t last for long as he looked away and twisted me around abruptly, making me gasp as I had to cling onto him before I lost my balance, “Mrs. Bae will be back in a week, think you can handle me for a little while longer?”

“I don’t think I can,” I snorted, realizing that I was almost hugging my boss with the arm that was supposed to only hold onto his shoulder, “But I don’t have a choice.”

“You’re smart,” Mr. Song chuckled and he lowered his head to be able to look me in the eyes directly, “And quite useful. You tried to blackmail me, you move fast, and stick your nose into everything, these aren’t necessarily good attributes, but they could be of use to me.”

My eyebrows furrowed as a wide smirk made its way onto Mr. Song’s lips, eyes twinkling with mischief, “What do you mean?”

“Are you trained in any martial arts?” I shook my head and Mr. Song pursed his lips, seemingly in thought, “Well, that’s easily changeable. Are you good with tech?”

I shook my head again and Mr. Song seemed disappointed, “Well, that’s not an issue, I have Yungi—”

“Who?” I asked confused as Mr. Song grinned.

“The artificial intelligence I designed to help me, he’s rather smart and a good friend when a man’s lonely.” That was perhaps impressive, but I didn’t say that to Mr. Song, he didn’t have to hear it from me too, “Well, anyways, I can find something useful for you to do.”

“Am I not useful already?” I asked confused, just slightly offended, “I help Mrs. Bae a lot, I’m her assistant after all, and by helping her, I help you too, sir.”

“Mingi.”

“What?”

“Stop calling me ‘sir’ and ‘Mr. Song’, it’s getting a bit repetitive.” I gave him a funny look as Mr. Song just raised his eyebrows challengingly.

“But you’re my boss, sir.”

“Am I though?” My heart stilled as Mr. Song suddenly dipped me down, our noses touching as he looked dashing under the dim lights, blazer sparkling and eyes twinkling.

“Are you firing me right now?” I asked alarmed, both arms going around his shoulders once I was in a standing position again. Mr. Song’s strong arms went around my waist as he swayed us slowly to the rhythm of the music the live band was playing.

“Yes and no,” Mr. Song—Mingi—hummed, and then his voice rumbled quietly next to my ear, “You’ll be working less for Song Mingi and more for Iron Man.”

My eyes widened as my heart raced now, skin tingling at the weird proposition, Mingi continued to explain, “Mrs. Bae will be retiring soon and I already have the person who will replace her, and surprisingly, I quite like you, Y/N. I want you to help me out—”

“But how?” I couldn’t find anything with which I would be more useful to Mingi. He chuckled, and I felt him play with the strands that had fallen out of my low bun.

“Iron Man needs a secretary too.”

“And if I refuse?” I knew I couldn’t, there were too many factors at stake right now.

“Jongho will kidnap you tonight.” That sounded terrifying, “I can’t let you go, you know too much. But I assume you already know that, right?”

“I do, Mingi, but if you’re subjecting me to more hours spent with you—which will be my own personal hell—I expect the paycheck to be higher too, you know?” Mingi giggled, the sound deep and surprising, and I found myself smiling.

“I’ll give you anything you want, Y/N, just stay by my side.” His voice was low and sincere and I gulped, feeling butterflies in my stomach.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Does Mrs. Bae know who you are?”

“She’s my godmother, of course, she knows.”

I chuckled, not having expected that, “That explains a lot, actually.”

“She’s a menace,” Mingi grumbled and I chuckled again.

“And so are you.” I watched another couple join the dance floor, and suddenly remembered something, “You said there was a dress code, so why is it that only the two of us are wearing black?”

“Because there’s a dress code.”

“And it’s gold, not black.”

“Exactly.”

“Mingi.”

“I’m the host, I can dress however I want.”

“And me?”

“Shut up, I love this song.”

The song, in fact, was just another classical piece that I was convinced Mingi hadn’t heard before in his life, but I remained silent and decided to bring up this subject again sometime soon. Just what was Iron Man’s secretary supposed to do?

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babeyun · 3 months ago

Text

out of my head ✮ l.hs [m]

✮ synopsis: years after your friendship with heeseung has begun crumbling, you ask him to be part of one of the biggest days of your life - your wedding day.

✮ genre: estranged best friends to ??? ; semi-unrequited lovers au ; angst ; fluff

✮ pairing: singer!lee heeseung x financial advisor!fem!reader ; sim jaeyun x reader

✮ word count: 10.4k (yikes...)

✮ rating: nc-17.

✮ warning(s): ...kissing? lol? a lot of hurt with no comfort, semi-unrequited lovers, wedding superstitions, mentions of having kids.

✮ playlist: off my face - justin bieber ; are we still friends? - tyler, the creator ; your eyes only - enhypen ; this is why i need you - jesse ruben.

✮ a/n: i'm a yapper sorry, but happiest birthday to heeseung <3 that's my pookie! i love u.

four months ago.

"you're getting married?"

you and heeseung had been best friends for nearly twenty years. the two of you met at a park during a winter storm, both of you having begged your mothers for a chance to go see the snow. a coincidence really, the two of you having somehow lived the same experience (one that heeseung was convinced was fate, while you just boiled it down to two four-year-old kids giving into the natural urge to plunge their grubby little fingers into cold, unforgiving snow.)

however, in the last few years, you'd grown apart.

you were freshly out of university, and heeseung had recently taken a job as a backup vocalist for one of the local entertainment companies. he'd been a singer his entire life, something you never allowed yourself to pick up because your mother had always taught you that safety nets were better. while heeseung openly explored his talents, eventually learning guitar and slowly, piano - you buried yourself in mathematical equations that made your brain hurt but forced yourself through it all because, after all, you needed a plan.

heeseung lived life on the edge. he didn't care if he had money, if he had belongings - life was more than that to him. he ventured out into the city with nothing but his headphones sometimes, not even so much as bothering to bring an umbrella if it looked like rain. "if i get soaked, i get soaked! life is more than staying inside with your head heavy from studying." he told you once, and you had just shaken your head.

"come on, y/n! don't you want to dance in the rain? don't you want to risk getting sick and having your mom make you that soup you really like? live a little, life is too short to waste away in our bedrooms." he tugged you out of your house that day, making you leave your phone behind as you trekked the entire city by foot, and once the rain did start falling, you were a mile from your house. "heeseung, i can't get sick! i have a presentation–"

"screw that presentation! live in the now!" he held you close as the rain pelted your backs, spinning you around as your laughter echoed in the neighborhood. "isn't this fun! aren't you enjoying this newfound freedom, no expectations? no logarithms, no polynomials!" he exclaimed, making you only laugh harder. "hee, i'm a finance major. that is fun for me!"

"and i'm a y/n major, i know you fucking hate math!" he giggled as he set you down, his fingers brushing your wet hair off your face. "i don't have things like you do, hee! i need a plan, i need something to fall back on. you work to make money to invest into yourself, you don't follow dreams!" you say as the two of you make the route back to your house, making him scoff.

"are you saying i'm wasting my time living the way i do?" he asked, a twang of hurt in his voice going unnoticed by you as you nodded. "i do. i think you are wasting your potential." your words pierced him, but he said nothing more as the two of you reached your mom's house. "see you later, hee."

"see you later."

that had happened three years ago. heeseung noticeably distanced himself after that day, limiting your hangouts to once a week instead of dropping by whenever he felt like it. soon, what were weekly hangouts became biweekly, before you were only meeting him for dinner on a random wednesday night in the middle of the month. you never asked so he never explained, and he simply assumed your silence on the subject meant that your puzzle of a life no longer had a need for a lee heeseung-shaped piece.

it pained him to think that you were outgrowing him.

heeseung was taking classes while working, having finally let your words get to him. you were right, in a way - he couldn't live his life on the edge forever, but the fact that you actually said that to him after constantly reassuring him that you believed in him was...unexpected, to say the least.

"she's just worried about you, hee." his older brother rattled, and heeseung shook his head. he had long told him about that day, and continued to try and decipher it for the years after. he didn’t really understand why it bothered him so much, but his only guess was the same — you had pretended to have an interest in his life, but yet, just like everyone else…

…you had no faith in him.

“yes, hee, i’m getting married! focus!” you tapped your pen on the notepad in front of you, the ice in your matcha long melted. heeseung was gripping his mug of hot chocolate for dear life, wondering where he missed the fact that you were even in a relationship to begin with. “i didn’t even know you had a boyfriend, forgive me for being curious.” he scoffs, making you roll your eyes.

“you would know if you answered any of my calls.” you say pointedly, making him groan. “okay, sorry i’ve been so absent from your life. what’s this guy’s name anyway?”

“sim jaeyun. you can call him jake.” you scribble something onto the notepad, before tearing it off and handing it to him. “this is his number, you’re going to have to talk to him at some point for what i’m about to ask you.”

your smile is mischievous, one that heeseung could never forget. it was engraved in his memory, it lit up his dreams and haunted his nightmares. the same smile he’s written endless lyrics about, the same smile he’s fallen in love with but refused to admit it.

“y/n, i haven’t seen you in six months. how can someone possibly gauge if a person is marriage material in such a short time?” he argues as he folds the scrap of yellow paper. you huff with a frustrated look on your face, “jaeyun and i have been seeing each other for a year! we made it official nine months ago, and we’ve been engaged for three months! i told you this already!”

“when the fuck did you even mention him!?” he groans, and you click your pen angrily.

"hee, if you hadn't been so focused on your own life, you'd be up to date with mine." grimacing, you reach into the knapsack you brought with you. pulling out a pink binder, you set it on the table, facing him. the paper sheet behind the vinyl reads the sims - may 2026.

he snorts inwardly, before you open the binder. "i know we haven't been as close as we'd like the past few years." you start, clearing your throat as he glances at you. you pull apart the binder rings, pulling out a folder as you continue to speak. "but, i know that you're still doing the singing thing, and i wanted to offer you a gig."

sliding the folder across to him, he glances down at it. it's thick with pieces of printer paper, lyrics typed neatly in times new roman. he recognizes the first song as he slips it out of the folder, his eyes scanning the sheet over and over.

"you want me to sing at your wedding?" he asks incredulously, and you take a sip of your watered down matcha. you press your lips together as you nod, staring at your fingers. "i showed jaeyun some clips of yours from a few of your other gigs, and he really liked it. this is our song, and we want you to sing it for our first dance." you tap the paper with your pen, and heeseung sighs.

"then why are we here alone? why isn't he here, showing face and asking me with you?" he accuses, and your frown is deep enough that he's sure you're about to throw your drink at him. "he's at work, if you must know. he's busy."

"and what does he work in that he can't come with his future wife to a measly two-hour lunch?" he taps his finger on the table, his eyes boring into yours, searching for any sign of the best friend he'd become estranged from. you weren't there.

"he's..." you bite your lip, staring at whatever was behind him in order not to meet his eyes. he looks at you pointedly, brows raised in expectation - a look he'd always hated from other people. you grimace before responding. "he's a singer, he's recording his album right now." heeseung blinks slowly, something you knew meant he was about to either get up and leave, or he was going to scold you once he processed the information. your best friend was nothing short of an open book, but as he looked down at the sheet in his hand and shook his head, you suddenly couldn't read him anymore.

"after all the shit you gave me." his tongue drips with poison before he shoves the sheet of paper back in the folder, tapping it with his hand before grimacing. "when is the wedding? do i have to be there for the whole thing?" his eyes are full of fire as he stares at you, and you can feel yourself shrink under his gaze. heeseung was rarely ever mad at you, even during these years of estrangement. you were never really on the receiving end of his anger, so you never handled it. "may second. you don't have to stay, if you don't want to. but i'd love for you to be there." your words are softer than you intended, and you can really feel the tug on the invisible string that ties the two of you together.

he nods, pressing his lips together as you watch his eyes brim with tears. "okay." he looks away as the first tear falls, wiping it away quickly before getting up. "just…send me the address when the time comes." he tucks the folder under his arm as he quickly walks away, trying not to let any more tears fall as he exits the cafe.

he can't help but hold everything in as he walks to his apartment, his mind spinning with potential thoughts. when did you get so far? how did he let you stray so deeply, and where did you even meet this guy? why didn't you tell him sooner? or did you, and he just blocked it out? he can't remember, no matter how hard he skims his memory. "fuck!" he screams as he slams his door shut, throwing the folder onto the table in the foyer.

he slides down the door, a sinking feeling taking over his stomach as he hits the cold tile. he can't help but sob into his hands, his shoulders shaking violently as he does. you're getting married and he missed the entire thing, he's missed the past year of your life and has no remorse in doing so. he only feels sorry now, now that he's realized he's too late.

april 30.

heeseung was increasingly stressed.

you had told him over text (because he wouldn't answer your calls) that he had to take the week off so he could participate in bonding activities with your fiancé's groomsmen. he'd been reluctant, and said he'd get there the thursday before the wedding, nothing sooner – making you upset. he didn't care, he wouldn't lie to himself – he felt betrayed that you were getting married to someone else. it was childish of him and he knew it, but as he aimlessly wandered jeju island alone – it only sank deeper into his bones that he had truly fucked up.

he didn't bother to bond with any of your bridesmaids, either – despite their starry eyes and warm smiles, he could only see the dread in your eyes, the twitch in your lower lip as you greeted your guests with your fiancé. he kept his hand on your lower back at all times, and heeseung wonders if jake knows that he did that in the past. heeseung wonders if jake knows that he held your hand as you both skipped through the sand on family vacations with your families, heeseung wonders if jake knows that he shared a bed with you on nights where thunderstorms would scare you out of your sleep and heeseung would run the three blocks to your house to comfort you.

heeseung wonders if jake knows that he was your first kiss, in the back of heeseung's '96 civic when you were both juniors in high school. heeseung wonders if jake knows that he is in love with you, and that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to stop.

not that jake knowing any of this would matter, because come saturday night, you'd be out of his grasp forever. he would never place his hand on the small of your back to ease your nerves, he would never hold your hand, he would never share a bed with you. he would never kiss you again, and he'd rather never see you again if it were up to him.

but it wasn't, was it? "heeseung! you made it!"

heeseung turns to see park sunghoon walking towards him with his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. "oh shit, hey! i didn't think you and y/n kept in touch after high school, it's great to see you." heeseung greets him, and sunghoon snorts.

"we didn't, actually. jaeyun and i go way back." sunghoon nods. sunghoon had been a friend of the two of you, but it was hard to keep in touch due to his prominent ice skating career. he was always busy, and it was easier to cut ropes than continuously make promises to see each other only to fall short.

"i'm sorry i didn't reach out more." heeseung starts, but sunghoon shakes his head. "don't even worry about it! my life was too crazy to keep tabs on everybody." sunghoon shakes his head, and heeseung tilts his head at him. "was?" sunghoon shifts in the sand, picking his cuticles as he sighs. "i had to quit, i got injured pretty badly during the finale of my last competition. i won, though, so at least i went out with a bang." he shrugs, and heeseung can see the disappointment in his eyes before offering a hug. "i'm sorry, hoon. that really fucking sucks."

sunghoon rejects the hug with a shake of his head. "it's fine, i'm doing other things now. i work as a backup vocalist for jake, me and jay. oh, jay's here, too! have you seen him?" sunghoon gestures to the air, and heeseung offers a small smile before shaking his head. "haven't seen him yet. to be honest, i don't want to be here." heeseung's confession, if surprising, doesn't seem to faze sunghoon. instead, the younger boy nods. "i figured you wouldn't. you're singing for them, right? i heard through the grapevine." sunghoon smirks, and heeseung rolls his eyes before lightly punching his arm. "stop lying, you brat. you read it on the wedding program."

sunghoon gives him a soft pat on the back, before leaning closer. "she wasn't going to wait forever, heeseung." with a curt nod, sunghoon continues down the beach towards the resort, leaving heeseung with wide eyes and a heavy heart. what did he mean by that?

🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊

the night was heavy as the last of your guests straggled in, and your feet were swelling in your shoes from standing for so long. jake had offered to take over as you went up to your room to change them, and you were internally thanking him as you hobbled to the elevator.

only for you to arrive and see your best friend waiting there calmly, headphones over his ears as he softly nods along to whatever is playing. he looks up when the elevator finally opens, completely oblivious to your lingering presence behind him. it's only when you get in after him, feeling the shift of the elevator's floor, that he looks at you.

his eyes are unreadable as he skims them over your face, a soft tilt to his head before he presses button six, hand hovering over the button as he waits for you to speak. you put up five fingers, and he presses it carefully as the doors close. it's silent, and for the first time ever since you were four years old, heeseung feels like a stranger. a polite stranger that presses the elevator button for you, that has come all the way from seoul on a ferry to sing at his estranged best friend's wedding.

except he's not a stranger, and you're the estranged best friend getting married this weekend. you're the estranged best friend who lied about your fiancé being excited for him to sing your first dance song, and you're the estranged best friend who wants it to hurt him. you want it to hurt, seeing you dance with your soon-to-be husband all night, you want it to burn in his chest when the two of you kiss at the end of the aisle.

you want him to ache as badly as you did when he basically abandoned you for no good reason. you want him to stay up all night in tears like you did when he wouldn't answer your calls, you want him to rant passionately about you to whoever gets the privilege of being his girlfriend like you did to jake when the two of you first started dating, and you want him to ignore the questions of if you're in love with each other.

just like you did.

loving heeseung was a thing of the past. he was out of your heart and out of your head, for the most part. you only ever thought of him when you'd talk to jake about old high school stories, skipping over the parts where you and heeseung shared loving caresses that the two of you convinced yourselves were nothing more than platonic. it didn't matter now, though, because there was no piece shaped like you in heeseung's puzzling life anymore.

you love jake. he's your endgame, and you're glad to be marrying him.

"are you excited? big day soon." he says gently, and you can feel your stomach turn as he nudges you with his elbow. you nod, a small smile on your lips as you glance down at your engagement ring. jake had it custom made, a marquise diamond nestled onto a thick gold band. it was a little tight, but you promised yourself you'd get it resized after the wedding.

"very excited. are you nervous? about your performance, i mean?" you ask, genuine concern in your voice as he shakes his head. "just another gig, really. it's special to you, though, so i've been putting my all into the rehearsals." he itches his neck, a nervous tick you'd picked up on through the years. you nod, patting his shoulder gently. the conversation stops as the elevator does, the number five on the elevator's neon sign.

"my stop. i'll see you at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow, right? you need to be there." your eyes are pleading, and heeseung can't help but sigh. "i'll try."

the answer doesn't seem to satisfy you, but you nod anyway, turning on your heels to go to your room. the doors close, and he lets out a shaky breath. you're very excited to marry sim jaeyun in less than thirty-six hours. you're very excited to be mrs. sim, you're very excited to have your first dance with your husband to the sound of your best friend's voice singing the song that reminds you and jake of your relationship.

a song that insinuates the two of you are unbelievably high off each other in every which way, and how ruined one of you has made the other for anybody else. but this song doesn't take into consideration how he is ruined for anyone else, how he is in pieces at the mere thought of you wearing white while meeting someone else down the aisle.

he doesn't want to feel like that anymore.

may 01.

"hey! you must be heeseung, i've been waiting forever to meet you!"

heeseung doesn't recognize the voice as he turns, eyes swollen with sleep when he looks to see you, and who he presumes to be sim jaeyun. he nods absently, before glancing at his cup of hot water. he'd stumbled down to the hotel's complimentary lounge, a packet of fennel mint tea in his hand.

"give me a moment, i'm sorry. i'm barely here." he apologizes sheepishly, tearing the bag open and dipping the bag into the cup. he wipes at his eyes once more, before turning to face a smiling jake. "you're jaeyun, right? nice to finally meet you man, y/n has said some awesome things about you."

lies. heeseung doesn't remember a single thing you have ever said about jake, just that he's a singer. but out of courtesy, and jake's business-like grip on his hand, he smiles through it anyway. "i heard that you asked for me specifically. your wedding song is beautiful." heeseung sees you wince out of the corner of his eye as jake looks a bit taken aback. he tilts his head slightly, but goes along with what heeseung now knows is a lie. "i'm glad you could make it. y/n talks a lot about your singing skills, are you working on any projects right now?" your face is pained as heeseung looks you dead in the eyes, "no, i'm just a backup vocalist. i gave up on that dream a while ago." he looks back at jake, who has a sad smile on his face. "the fame, the money…i was never suited for that life, anyway." "i'm sorry to hear that things didn't work out for you." jake sounds genuine, a flash of sadness in his eyes as he shakes heeseung's hand again. "i hope to see you at the rehearsal tonight. have you got a girlfriend? there'll be quite a few people at our singles' table." jake wiggles his brows and heeseung wonders when you're going to speak.

"actually, heeseung won't be able to stay. he's got another gig on sunday." you lie, and jake's eyes widen. "oh, you'll be missing our reception?" "i'll be leaving right after your dance, i do sincerely apologize." heeseung gives jake a sheepish grin, to which jake nods slowly. "that's unfortunate, there's a lot of people you could network with here! take advantage of it, dreams are meant to become reality." jake finalizes, before giving heeseung another warm smile.

"i will do my best! thank you for having me." heeseung says, and you can feel the fake tone of happiness in his voice seep into your bones. you'd been the only person to ever recognize it, and heeseung knows you're aware he used it as he takes the tea bag out of his mug. "i will see you both tonight."

he spins on his heel as he hears jake whisper to you.

"you asked him to sing our song? when? why didn't you tell me?" "we can talk about this later, okay? he's really good, i promise."

🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊

your mother had been staring at heeseung for the last fifteen minutes, and heeseung was almost sure she was trying to figure out if he was who she thought he was. he gave her a small smile and waved, and the moment her eyes lit up, the person in front of her turned.

jake. he frowns as she walks away from him mid-conversation, stumbling over only moments before the rehearsal dinner is set to start.

"sorry, sweetie. i didn't know you and my y/n finally made up! it's so good to see you!" her embrace is crushing, and heeseung doesn't have the heart to tell your mother that you're a horrible liar. you hadn't 'made up' – he was simply doing you a favor, something else you'd lied about. he just smiles as she pulls back, ruffling his hair gently. "love the red, it really suits you." "thank you, auntie. it's nice to see you again." he remains relaxed as he sees her eyes soften. "what's wrong? not ready to see your little girl walk down the aisle?" he teases, and the older woman sighs inwardly. she turns, her shoulder brushing his as they stare into the room full of tipsy bridesmaids and boisterous groomsmen. "if i admit something to you, you'll keep it quiet, right?" she murmurs, and heeseung suddenly feels like this conversation isn't going to be one that favors his unruly feelings for you. "of course, auntie. who am i to tell?" "i always thought you'd be the one to marry my y/n." she sighs, clasping her hands in front of her as her eyes watch jake speaking to you gently as he hands you a glass of wine. heeseung's eyes follow hers and the two of them can see as your face falls and jake quickly moves to hide you from any lingering gazes. "i should go see what's wrong. it's nice to see you, heeseung. please enjoy the wedding!" he nods as your mother quickly crosses the room, her arm around you as jake gets pushed to entertain the guests while you get taken care of. jake looks nervous, and heeseung can't seem to stop his body as he also crosses the room, a small smile on his face. "good evening, jake." "oh, hey! how are you liking the venue so far?" a small flash of relief passes onto his face, and heeseung feels guilty as he shrugs. "it's what i expected for someone like y/n. so floral, so bright. are you sure you had any part in this?" he snickers, and jake laughs genuinely.

"she wouldn't let me even look at the flowers with her. babe, you're going to pick the wrong ones!" he imitates you, and heeseung shakes his head in amusement. you'd always been a bit of a control freak when it came to your visions, and now that your life revolved around financial decisions, you were wound up extra tight. "yeah, she's always been like that." he sighs, and jake doesn't miss the slight tone of sadness.

"listen, i don't know you very well," jake starts, reaching for a bottle of cabernet across the table. he grabs two glasses, uncorking the wine as he leans to pour. "but i want to say thank you." he holds the wine out to heeseung, and he tries not to look curious as he takes it.

"thank you for what?" heeseung asks, and jake gives him a pointed look as he blindly pours his own glass.

"for taking care of y/n all these years. i know you and i probably won't be the best of friends, i'm the first to admit that i'm not very good at sharing her attention." jake grimaces to himself as he replaces the cork into the bottle. "but i'm glad that she has someone as reliable as you, that can just… be there for her. it's a beautiful thing, your friendship."

heeseung almost feels nauseous as jake continues talking about how sweet your lifelong friendship with him seems. it just confirms that you told jake everything and anything you could about it, and based on his mention of jealousy, that includes the first kiss you shared. he can barely hear jake over the sound of his heart beating in his ears, but understands enough when jake pats his shoulder.

"...and i figured i'd be honest. y/n didn't say anything about you singing our song, we had originally planned for sunghoon to sing it with the band we hired. i guess she thought you'd be better for it, and i trust her judgment." jake says, pulling heeseung back in. "oh, i'm sorry." "don't even worry about it, man. hey, why don't you just relax, enjoy the dinner tonight. tomorrow is going to hit us like a fucking train, we should be well rested today." jake nods, and heeseung reciprocates with a gentle smile as someone else calls for jake's attention. "remember, just chill! network!" jake gestures to the room as he walks backwards towards the people looking for him.

heeseung can't shake the nausea from his throat, setting down the glass of wine to wander to the bathroom. but, the hall seems to get longer and longer, the temperature changing from the cold air conditioning to the humid spring air. he can feel a breeze in his hair, and then he realizes he's on the beach. his feet are buried in the warm sand, shoes in his hand.

sighing, he reminds himself he can't zone out like that all the time. it's not healthy, you had told him once. what if you end up in the middle of nowhere?

he reaches into his pocket, pulled out his spare headphones. he was supposed to bond with everyone at your stupid rehearsal dinner, but he didn't care to do so as he stared at the crashing waves. plugging the headphones into his phone, he gently speaks to siri as he lays on his back, looking up at the cloudless sky.

"hey, siri. play are we still friends? by tyler, the creator."

he stares into the water as the song pours into his ears. he doesn't know where things went to shit, but he knows it's his fault. he should've told you that what you said hurt his feelings. he should have communicated, then maybe it'd be him sitting next you in the private jet your mother rented solely for your honeymoon escape after the reception.

maybe it'd be him spinning you around in your beautiful wedding dress, and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you dance the night away. maybe it would be him, like your mom had hoped. maybe it would be him, like he had hoped, too.

his fingers dig into the sand as he swallows the lump in his throat. there is nothing in hell, heaven or earth that would stop you from trekking the aisle tomorrow afternoon. nothing would stop jake from kissing you tenderly right in front of him, and doing it for the rest of your lives. it would taunt him, it would haunt him like the ghost of your friendship. you weren't friends anymore, the two of you knew it. things would never be the same between you, and yet, neither of you was brave enough to ask the question.

why?

"heeseung! are you out here?!" he can hear sunghoon's voice over the fourth replay of the song, lowering the volume as he tilts his head to find him. "over here, what's up?" "what's up? they're waiting for you, man!" sunghoon is standing in the doorway of the resort, the soft breeze blowing his hair back as a bridesmaid also peers over his shoulder. heeseung sighs as he stands, wiping his pants of sand and shoving his phone into his pocket. he walks quickly, humming quietly to himself to semi-prepare his voice for the perfect delivery of the song you wanted him to sing.

everyone is chatting quietly around the tables as heeseung steps inside, running his fingers through his hair as he walks forward. your mother catches his eye, a concerned look on her face, but he can't hold eye contact. he faces the floor as he reaches the small stage the venue has set up for the band, jay perched on a stool holding a guitar.

"hey, hee. you ready?" he asks as he tucks in his in-ear monitor, and heeseung shrugs as he takes his place behind the microphone. only then does he notice that the chatter he heard was just two bridesmaids, kim sunoo, riki nishimura and yang jungwon – all friends of yours and jake's that he hadn't bothered to meet further than reading their names in the program.

he watches silently as you and jake take the center of the dance floor, your eyes slightly reddened as you gingerly drape your arms over your fiancé. your smile doesn't fill your cheeks as jay begins playing softly.

heeseung takes a deep breath, and your eyes catch him as he begins to sing.

one touch, and you've got me stoned. higher than i've ever known…

you were both thirteen.

he remembers the way you held onto him the night that you lost your first mathletes competition. you cried so hard that you'd almost thrown up, and heeseung could only soothe you by dragging you to the nearest convenience store and shoving a melona popsicle in your hand. you went silent after that, gripping his hand tightly as he walked you home. you'd squeezed his hand three times that night, something he'd always done but you'd roll your eyes at.

"why would i squeeze your hand when i can just tell you, hee?"

you call the shots and i'll follow. sunrise, but the night's still young…

you were both seventeen.

he remembers when you called him to come over while it was storming, because your mother was out of town. your house was a little over a mile away and normally, he didn't mind the walk. it was almost three in the morning, and he'd been sleeping when your ringtone went off for the third time. "hello?" "hee, please come over. it's storming so bad, i'm so–"

he hadn't even let you finish before ripping his bedsheets off his body and sprinting for the door. his clothes, his shoes, everything was soaking wet by the time he got to your house. you'd embraced him anyway, your own clothes soaking through as he trudged into your home – only for the storm to stop a few moments after his arrival.

no words, but we're speaking tongues. if you let me, i might say too much…

you were both twenty.

he remembers when you asked him, in the middle of your kitchen during your graduation party, if he could kiss you. the house was empty except for the two of you – his parents and your mom had decided to throw a joint party, using the excuse that two best friends should always stick together. your mom had sent you inside for more hor d'oeuvres, and you'd dragged him inside with the excuse that you couldn't carry them all yourself.

"you don't have to, hee. i'm sorry." your eyes were full of embarrassment as heeseung stared at you, a bit in shock at your question. only as you begin to move further into the kitchen does he register what you've said, and grabs your arm, pulling you toward him. "ask me again, i'm sorry. i zoned out, i thought you asked me to kiss you."

"i did." you repeated quietly, and heeseung blinked twice before nodding. "o-okay. yeah, i can do that." he cleared his throat, looking over your shoulder into the foyer to ensure no one was opening the door.

"are you sure? i mean, it's your first kiss, wouldn't you want to have it with someone special?" he's rambling, and your gentle laugh pulls him right back.

"you are special, hee."

without another word, he backed you up against your kitchen counter, his hands on your hips as he softly kissed you. your hands were on his biceps, and he could feel your nervousness seep through your locked lips. he carefully circles your thighs to lift you onto the counter, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck before he breaks the kiss.

"how was that? okay?" his eyes searched yours, a shy smile playing on his swollen lips as you blinked. "uh, i'm not sure. i think–" "you want to try again?" his head tilted to the side, a habit you loved and eventually also caught. you nodded silently. his smile was wide as he closed the gap between the two of you, the hands on your thighs squeezing softly. once, twice, three times.

i love you.

your touch blurred my vision. it's your world, and i'm just in it…

you're both twenty one.

he remembers how he stared at his bedroom ceiling, clothes soaked in rain from prancing around the city with you. how piercing your words were, how he thought for so long that you believed in him. how all of these events he can't stop thinking about, are about you. how proud he was of you, how lucky he was to have you, how insane it was that you wanted him. you wanted him at one point.

how he didn't care that he got sick, but certainly didn't understand why your sore throat and stuffy nose didn't make him feel a pang of distress. how he didn't care that no one else was refuting his talent, because they weren't you. he didn't care about anyone else in this world, but you.

even sober, i'm not thinking straight…

you're both twenty two.

he remembers his birthday going abhorrently wrong. you weren't there, per usual – you were too wrapped up with school to give heeseung a second thought. he'd long realized that he didn't want to lose you, but it seemed that you no longer cared to keep the friendship alive. he still has the messages he sent you, and is still amazed at the lack of typos despite being absolutely shitfaced.

message to: my y/n <3 [2022.10.15 | 11:23pm] it's my birthday, baby. [2022.10.15 | 11:24pm] you can't be here for me today? [2022.10.15 | 11:24pm] i miss you. i miss our friendship. [2022.10.15 | 11:26pm] i can't believe you're missing my birthday. i never miss your birthdays. [2022.10.15 | 11:30pm] is this it? are we done? [2022.10.15 | 11:34pm] when will you come back to me? when, how much longer? [2022.10.15 | 11:35pm] when you graduate? i can wait. (not delivered!) [2022.10.15 | 11:47pm] just tell me how long. i'll wait. (not delivered!)[2022.10.16 | 12:02am] i'd wait forever for you (not delivered!)

he changed his number after that. he still doesn't know how you got his new one. he doesn't care to ask, either.

cause i'm off my face, in love with you…

you're both twenty five.

he's watching you slow dance with your fiancé, fingers interlaced behind his neck as jake's hands rest on your hips. he hates the jealousy that boils in his stomach, but doesn't bother to break eye contact with the tile on the ceiling with water damage.

i'm out my head, so into you…

he can feel his fingers tightening around the microphone stand, but can't seem to stop his eyes from averting as jake spins you gently, before your soft giggle hits his ears. you look up at jake with what he can only assume is adoration, before resting your cheek on his shoulder. you're looking right at heeseung, mouthing along to the song.

and i don't know how you do it…

you're fixing your posture instead, still staring at heeseung as jake takes your hand in his, kissing your knuckles. you instinctively smile at the feeling, and heeseung's eyes zero in on your fingers as you squeeze jake's hand.

once, twice, three times. i love you.

but i'm forever ruined by you, ooh, ooh, ooh.

"i love you." your eyes haven't left heeseung as you whisper the words, and you can see the way his eyes fill with fire as he looks away. you get a twisted feeling of satisfaction in your gut, before finally averting your eyes back to your fiancé. jake is smiling softly at you, and you quickly close the gap between you as heeseung continues to sing. your lips press against jake's smoothly, before he swiftly moves away. "i can't wait to marry you tomorrow." he whispers.

"me, too."

liar.

may 02.

the wedding is in twenty minutes.

your pantyhose has ripped, you tripped going up the stairs. you're not even wearing your dress yet. there are storm clouds gathering, and you can’t help but feel like everything in the universe is working against you. the only thing holding you together is your mother, her arms are wrapped tightly around you.

“are you sure we can’t just run away and elope?” you mumble into her shoulder, and your mother laughs. “not anymore. but,” she pulls away from you, cradling your face in her hands gently. “i love you, honey. everything will be okay.”

you hate the churn in your stomach at the word everything. because if everything were okay, it'd be sunny. if everything were okay, you'd be staring down an aisle full of people and only see heeseung at the end of it. if everything were okay, you would've never said yes to that first date.

“i love you.” you repeat, your hand resting on her wrists as you nod robotically. “i’ll see you out there, okay?”

“okay.” you breathe out shakily as she presses her lips to your hairline, lingering slightly before pulling away and leaving your room. you were alone now, and you glanced out the window at all the guests gathering on the beach. everyone is dressed so brightly, bunches of pinks and lilacs scattered across the sand. jake is waiting patiently at the end of the aisle, the forest green of his suit making his skin glow slightly brighter. how he does it, you don't know.

and then you see heeseung.

he’s dressed in black, despite the theme of the wedding being floral and natural. you grimace, forcing yourself to look away before spotting your dress hanging on the back of the door. you'd have to shimmy into it on your own, having sent everyone out in a fit of anxiety.

sighing, you unhook the heavy dress from the door, carefully letting the skirt pool on the floor as you step into it. it slides on perfectly, and you can't help but lose your breath at the sudden weight of the world on your chest. you're getting married, and you love jake.

but he'll never, ever be heeseung.

"tighten up, y/n. you've got this." you shake your head, reaching back and forcing the zipper up as high as you could. you had a hook-and-eye closure at the top, something you'd simply have to forego if you wanted to make it downstairs on time. groaning to yourself, you attempt to pull up the zipper just a bit more, before giving up and covering it with your veil. grabbing your bouquet, you give yourself a final glance in the mirror.

"you've got this. everything will be okay."

your voice is shaky, but you swing your room door open anyway – only to be met with heeseung on the other side. his eyes widen, mouth slightly agape as you come into his view. "wow, you look…" "what are you doing here? you're supposed to be downstairs." you scold, shoving your keycard into the pocket of your dress. oh yeah, you've got it like that. "your mom asked me to come see what was taking so long. i told her you'd be down soon, but she insisted." he shrugs, so nonchalantly.

like none of this is eating away at him.

"ugh, whatever. come on." your tone is angry, but your face shows nothing but fear. his eyes follow as you storm towards the elevator, seeing the zipper of your dress slowly sliding down as you reach the doors. "here, hold on."

his fingers move your veil carefully as you step into the elevator, before pulling the fabric tighter together and pulling the zipper to the top. he carefully clasps the closure, and you swear you feel every hair on your body sticking up when his fingertips gently graze your back. "don't touch me, heeseung."

"i'm trying to help you. otherwise, you'd flash that entire crowd." he scoffs, pressing the floor button. you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself as the elevator becomes silent. the tension is thick between you, you know it. your eyes never leave the neon sign, watching the floor numbers go by before heeseung reaches over and pulls the emergency lever.

"what the fuck are you doing?! i'm already late!" you gasp, hitting his arm with your bouquet when he stands in front of the lever. "i can't let you do this unless you hear what i have to say."

"heeseung, i'm getting married. this is the biggest day of my life–" your whining is cut short by his hand on your mouth, and only then do you see the unshed tears in his eyes. "the biggest day of my life was when i met you on that stupid playground. i never, ever in my life thought our friendship would end this way, and you know what, it makes me kind of sick."

he breathes deeply, removing his hand from your face as he sees the shock in your eyes. "you're saying you're already late to your big day, well i just want to say i beat you in that department. i've never had a problem with punctuality, but i really missed the mark on this one." his chuckle is dry, humorless as he looks at the bouquet in your hand. "i don't think i'll get over this, ever. i'll never get the chance to be in his place. but," he steps back, fingers gripping the emergency lever in his hand.

"i want you to know that it should be me. i should be the one waiting for you at the end of the aisle. i should be the one who gets to love you until the end of my days, and even then, you'd never die. you'd be loved by me forever, the evidence strewn all over the world in compositions and lyrics. i would never let you die."

he pushes the lever back, before moving back to his original spot next to you. the elevator doors open, revealing an empty lobby. the storm clouds are no longer that far away, and you can feel the humidity through the open plan of the resort.

"i am foolishly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you. and i hope you realize this is the biggest mistake of your life." his voice is soft, as is his smile when he offers his hand. "here's to your forever, my love."

you say nothing.

🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊

if heeseung was anything, it was a sick bastard. a sick, rat bastard who had no shame. your mother took you from his arm at the end of the aisle, and you didn't even realize you'd allowed him to lead you there. jake's eyes shone with what could only be identified as jealousy.

he smiled the entire ceremony, clapping and whistling alongside your other guests through the vows. the sappy vows jake had penned were poetic compared to yours, but he knew what you meant anyway. you felt several fat raindrops plop onto your head and shoulders, while heeseung had come prepared and shared his umbrella with your mother.

he even helped her inside once the rain really started pouring, just after your first kiss as a married couple. your stomach was boiling over in fury as you watched him laugh with her, his eyes only meeting yours once with a soft smile.

you and jake slipped away to change into your reception clothing, his suit jacket abandoned and sleeves rolled up, showing off the watch you got him for his birthday. your ballroom white dress, now stained with sand, was traded in for an a-line style. jake met you in front of the resort, his fingers curled in yours when he finally spoke.

"we really did it, huh." he says quietly, his eyes scanning the shut doors of the reception venue. you nod, your breath caught in your throat when he takes a step back, his hand squeezing yours. "two years." your ears twitch at this. "what?" "all i ask for is two years. we can have a kid. we'll have an heir to our wills. we can get divorced after two years, and you can be with him." he breathes, eyes following the pattern on the heavy wooden door. you choke out a scoff of disbelief, your throat burning. "what the fuck are you talking about, jaeyun?" he winces at the use of his name, so used to gentle baby and sweetened honey. a sigh escapes his lips as he turns to face you. "i know you love him, y/n. you don't have to hide it from me. you wouldn't have brought him all the way out here, you wouldn't have gone behind my back and changed the plans for the band. your mom loves him, for crying out loud. i never stood a chance." he chuckles sadly, and your tears are hot as they flow down your face.

"how can you say that, jaeyun? i'm married to you, i've chosen you, over anything and anyone in this world! how can you say such things?!" your hurt is evident, but he can't figure out if it's because of the little blame game or if it's because you truly, deeply love him. he doesn't know what to say, but reaches to wipe your tears. you jerk away, a frown etched on your glossed lips as you wipe them yourself. you take a deep breath, grabbing the door knob.

"fix your face." you mutter, a tone jake had never received from you as he sighed, painting a smile of everything's okay on his face as the two of you threw the doors open in unison. your crowd of guests cheered loudly, rice flying everywhere as they welcomed you in. the band was loudly playing got to be real by cheryl lynn, and you almost forget jake's painful words behind the door. you almost forget that heeseung will be queueing up to sing for you and your husband, for free, on the very stage you're now standing in front of.

jungwon hands you a microphone and two champagne flutes, before slinking away to his seat. you hand one to jake, who swirls it nervously.

"wow, it's such an honor to have all of our loved ones here today." your voice is shaky as you take them all in, dozens of eyes staring you down. "i mean, i've waited for this day since i was a little girl. it's a blessing to finally see it in color, in person. thank you." jake breathes in deeply, before looking away to blink back tears. "i'm not crying, my eyes are just sweating." he speaks into the microphone, earning an empathetic laugh from the guests, your hand ghosts over his back, and he stiffens at it. "i'm so…so terribly in love with y/n. i can't believe this day is real." a soft aww echoes in the room, your chest tightening as you see heeseung sitting next to your mother. he's cooing with everyone else. "and i can't wait to be a man that is continuously worthy of her love. to y/n."

you almost burst into tears as everyone raises their drinks to you, the clink of glasses adding to the emotion as you and jake find your seats at the end of the hall. you sit gingerly, holding jake's hand under the table tightly. "i love you, jake." "i love you, y/n."

🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊

the speeches were a mess. jay was a mess of tears, and minjeong spewed bullshit about the two of you being like sisters. heeseung hadn't met her until five minutes after the ceremony, and if you had been close to anyone enough to consider them a sibling, he'd know them. no one knew you like he did.

"and now, for the newlyweds' first dance! we have a very special guest singing for us today, please give a warm welcome and round of applause to y/n's longest friend, lee heeseung!"

he smiled nervously as he took the stage, a puffy-eyed jay sitting behind him as he tested the microphone. "thank you for having me, and congratulations to the newlyweds. y/n, i'm eternally proud of you and so grateful to be here on your special day. i love you." none of the guests know it means something more to him, to you, as they let out an aww. how heartwarming, that your lifelong best friend was here for you. how lovely, that he was supporting you every step of the way.

he sang carefully, watching as you and jake held each other tightly, swaying to the song. he can hear your sniffle, a soft sob into jake's shoulder as he lovingly strokes your back. he looks away.

it should be him.

it should be heeseung, that gets to see you wear white. it should be heeseung, that gets to plan a tedious wedding at your instruction. it should be heeseung that gets to take you on a romantic honeymoon and spend all day in the sun and all night glued to your bed. it should be heeseung that gets to shampoo your hair for you when you're feeling too tired, it should be heeseung that gets to watch you put lipstick on in the morning just to ruin it before you're out the door.

it should be him. and everyone knows it, no matter if they know your history or not.

"thank you, everyone. let's hear it for the newlyweds!"

october 15.

"hey."

it's been over a year since your wedding. you and jake had happily posted tons of wedding photos, piled over with honeymoon flicks. you and heeseung hadn't spoken since the wedding. he left right after the first dance, catching the first ferry back to seoul. he didn't bother contacting you to see if you'd made it back safely, he didn't bother to message you a happy birthday when it came around. he just didn't care.

he dropped out of college for the second time, and spent the summer going around seoul auditioning for companies. decelis entertainment finally gave him a break, and only after he got his contract did he find out that jake and all of his friends were also at this company.

he was polite in the hallways. he smiled, he waved, he engaged in small talk and perused the past. he didn't ask questions, he didn't initiate. he spent his time holed away in the studio with a producer named yeonjun, recording for hours on end without a break. he was set to debut in two weeks, having dropped his first teaser just two days prior.

all without you to cheer him on.

"what are you doing here?" his voice was cold, nothing you weren't used to at this point. his hair wasn't red anymore, now a natural chocolate brown. it suited him. "came to visit, heard from jake that you've been training for a year." "what's it to you?"

he's being harsh, he knows he's being harsh.

"hey, y/n. nice to see you." jake calls from across the hall, exiting his studio with jay and sunghoon in tow. the two of them seem to say nothing at the sudden casualties between you and jake, or the insinuation that he hadn't seen you in a while. heeseung gives you a glance, your hands holding a gift and a grocery bag. "may i come in?" "i'm busy, at the moment." he coughs, ignoring the way your eyes roll. "too busy for a slice of cake?" you hold up a bag in your fingers, and his eyes narrow. he leans back into the studio, his eyes scanning the calendar for any potential special dates. he's not even flipped to the right month, the calendar reading july.

"shit, did i miss something?" he whips out his phone, which you simply cover with your hand. a soft laugh escapes your lips as you lift your other hand, the gift bag screaming happy birthday in gold glitter flashing at him. "oh, man." he moves away from the door, allowing you to walk in. you look around, and although the studio doesn't belong to him, it sure smells like him. it looks like him, it's covered in him, it feels like home.

"happy birthday, hee." you say gently, setting the gift down on the couch and slowly sitting down to unwrap his cake. "i know it's not much, but i'm barely here." you chuckle, tapping your temple as he takes a seat in his desk chair. he's wary, you can tell.

"something on your mind?" "why are you here? i debut in two weeks, i don't need any bullshit." he rubs his temples, and you only frown. "you know, once upon a time, you would've been happy to have me here." your tone is pointed, and heeseung sighs. "fine, fine. i'm sorry."

"i'm the one who should be sorry." you murmur, and heeseung says nothing. he knows you're right.

you're both quiet, before heeseung notices the candle next to the cake. he rolls the chair over, his fingers carefully centering the candle. "have you got a light?"

you shake your head no, a sheepish look in your eyes. "i'm sorry. we can pretend, if that's okay?" he hates the way his lips twitch into a smile at your wide eyes. "yeah, we can pretend."

you sing for him softly, your cheek squished into your hand as you lean on the armrest. he closes his eyes, making a wish and blowing the makeshift flame out. "what'd you wish for?" you yawn, and he shakes his head.

"won't come true if i tell you." shrugging, he rolls back over to his desk, leaving the cake on the table. you just make a noise of agreement, before a sigh slips past you. "i heard your teaser, you know." he doesn't care to react, only giving you a short sound. "mhm?" "is it about me?" you ask, and he straightens in his chair before spinning around to face you. "all my songs are about you. every single one of them." he gestures to a tattered journal on the soundboard. it's covered in stickers, and…a taped photo of you and him as toddlers. "oh."

"i mean what i say, y/n." he rolls his eyes, before spinning back around. "if it were me, i'd never let you die."

but it is you, you think. it's always been you.

"why did jake say it was nice to see you?" he asks, too cowardly to look you in the eyes. he hears your sigh, before hearing you shift around on the couch. he spins around again, only to see you have removed your shoes and tucked your legs beneath you. his eyes scan you, before looking at your fingers. your ring is gone, replaced by a chunky painite stone in silver. your eyes are gently burning into him, and he shivers in the warmth. "well…why?" "before the reception, he told me he knew." you shrug, "he knew how you felt about me, and how i allegedly felt about you. he brought up my mother, and how he felt like he'd never stood a chance."

"but he did. you married him, after all." heeseung rolls his eyes as you shrug, blinking slowly as you speak again. "we gave it a good shot. maybe i should've listened to all those superstitions, they're not such bullshit. the tripping, the rain, god, the way my ring was too tight." you scoff sadly, before glancing back up at him.

he seems to understand. if he doesn't, he doesn't say anything. sighing, you reach over to rustle the gift bag with your fingers. "you've got to open this, you know."

"y/n, i can't do this." he breathes out, eyes screwed shut. "i can't sit here with you and pretend like we're all good, like you're not married to the same guy i share a company with. we stopped being friends a long time ago, what are you trying to do here?" "i'm not trying to do anything but reconnect. i fully accepted the fact that whether or not you're with me, you're still someone i love. i spent years trying to figure out why you drifted away from me, and then jake and i sat down at our dinner table a few weeks ago after meeting with the lawyer and he asked me about our friendship. so i told him everything, from the very beginning."

heeseung can't breathe as you get up, walking towards him and slowly sinking into a squat. your hands are on his knees, giving a gentle squeeze before you speak.

"i'm sorry i made it seem like i had no faith in you. i said horrible things to you, even if they seemed right to me, and i'm so sorry that it took someone else to tell me that i'd treated you so badly that day."

his eyes are brimming with tears, but he looks away from you. he can't cry, not now, not in front of you.

"you've always been like that, though." he murmurs, picking at his cuticles when you carefully take his hands in yours. he suppresses a sob as the warmth of you envelopes his fingers, "i was projecting. i thought that everyone had to be like me, that everyone had to have a plan. some people are just better at flying by the seat of their pants, i mean, look at all you've accomplished despite me saying such shitty things to you. you're about to debut, you're going to see great success. everyday i'm rooting for you, even if i'm not the person you go home to."

you give his hands a firm squeeze. once, twice, three times. i love you.

"are you divorced?"

you scoff out a soft laugh, looking down at his jeans. "jake and i haven't been together since the wedding. we spent the honeymoon playing mermaids and crying over whiskey sours."

"i can't forgive you right now." he confesses, making your head snap up to look at him. he swallows hard, "i can't forgive you right now, because i'm still mad at you. for saying those things to me, and…and you hurt me, when you asked me to sing for your wedding. it hurt me a lot, y/n." "i'm sorry, hee." you whisper, your thumbs wipe at the tears spilling from his eyes. he leans into your touch, before pulling away. "i know you are, y/n. i know."

he gently pushes away, offering his hand to help you up. you take it, and he waits for you to put your shoes on before leading you back to the door. "i'll call you, okay? when i'm ready."

you step out of the studio, peering up at him with sad eyes. "you promise?"

he sighs, nodding his head. "i promise, baby."

580 notes · View notes

screampied · 6 months ago

Text

ʚ MAMA I’M IN LOVE WITH 2 CRIMINALS ?! ɞ

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. you had one job. interrogate two felonious criminals, not screw them both. but it’s a friday night and what happens in the interrogation room stays in the interrogation room, right? wrong.

warnings. fem! reader, modern au, criminals sukuna ryomen x toji fushiguro, unprotected, thrēesome, tatted toji, manhandling, choking, dirty talk, double penn + cowgirl dp, praise, spıt roasting, size kink, ōral (f & m receiving), gunplay, spıt, brēeding, implied multiple rounds, nıpple play, overstim, dumbificaiton, they’re kinda fruity

wc. 6.4k

“you’re avoiding the question.” you utter with a vexed scoff.

these two, sukuna ryomen and toji fucking fushiguro. sleazy infamous criminals notoriously known within the city with a staggering criminal record underneath their belts. they were a duo, the duo. everyone knows—where there’s sukuna, there’s toji. constantly always in and out of prison as if life was a mere game to them, a mere joke. your patience continues to run thin the more you stare at them blankly. those unfazed eyes, those smirks, they didn’t take you seriously, especially with how easy on the eyes you were. you almost stammer over your words before peering back at toji. “my eyes are up here. quit wasting my time.”

“easy, girl. we already told ya we didn’t do it,” toji brings two hands up to his chest with a sly smirk, pretending to be offended. he sat right beside sukuna, both in the same orange undifferentiated jumpsuits. “besidesss,” and he leans up close to you, sliding a tongue against his slanted fabled scar. “for a detective you’re pretty shit at your job. where’s the eye contact, love?”

“yo toji don’t piss her off,” sukuna cackles with his arms crossed. he leans against the steel chair, taking in your entire frame. as much as you could give them both an annoyed glower, toji was right. you were one of the if not the best local detective in your city, yet with these two, you were slacking in everything. you could barely stare into their eyes without looking away, embarrassingly fumbling over your words, a mess. sukuna hums in amusement, cocking a brow upwards. “but y’know, detective. it is kind of hard to confess our crimes when ya look this good on a friday night.”

the compliment immediately catches you off guard. the air suddenly grows thick. you’re squeezing your legs shut tight - the stretchy fabric of your tucked fishnets glues against your skin before you clear your throat.

“i know what you’re doing. ‘s not gonna work.” but who were you kidding, just a single comment as that had you all hot and bothered. questioning one criminal was one thing, but two at the same time was another. you didn’t know how you were gonna get through the night. inside the dim lit interrogation room, it was quite spacey. luckily, it was pretty late at night so your superiors had left you alone to close. you insisted you’d question them then take them back to the station yourself. although, that certainly wasn’t the plan.

the brick walls were rustic, it grew very quiet the moment you trailed off your words. the silence was almost deadly, so deadly that you could practically hear a pin drop. sukuna and toji, they were infamous for their crimes—burglaries, robberies, to keep it short, they weren’t exactly good guys.

with a quick scratch toward his ripped pecs, toji glances around the room. sharp verdant hooded eyes gawk near the glass viewing window directly before he snickers. “saaaay,” he hums in a gruff tone, lazily slouching back against his seat. “how ‘bout ya take these handcuffs off ‘n we’ll tell ya everything ya wanna know.”

“nice try,” you lean up against the table, finally staring right into their eyes - moreso toji. he flashes you a cheeky grin as you inch forward, sukuna keeping his eyes fixated on you also. with a quick glimpse, you peek down at your watch. “seriously, i don’t have all day. i have somewhere to be in a hour, so-”

“hot date?” sukuna raises a brow, his collar from his jumpsuit ruffed out a bit. just that minor detail alone was so attractive. “so that’s why you’re wearing pretty fishnets, mm. lucky guy.”

again—you’re caught off guard. both men stare at you as if they’re trapped inside your thoughts, already knowing what you’re about to say next. just casually reading every single thing that pops into your brain. were you that easy to read? you didn’t actually have a date but you were going out. maybe being all dolled up on the job was a bit unprofessional. sheepishly abashed, you dig the soles of your boot heels into the carpet ground before muttering lowly, desperately trying to keep a straight face.

“my personal life isn’t what’s important … here,” and your eyes widen once you see toji with his hands apparently free.

how . . .

your eyes then trail at sukuna who had your handcuff keys right in his palm. sukuna freed his wrists and toji freed himself before the dark haired fugitive stands up to stretch. damn, they just have snuck it when you were fantasizing. again,

“you were saying about y’er personal life?” the pink haired male hums, slowly making his way behind your edge table. you felt cornered— oh, perhaps taking the final shift of the night wasn’t the best idea.

no, it was a horrible idea.

yet, the more they got closer to you, the more you started to feel something … feverish.

suddenly, between your thighs felt hot. with the bare bottoms of your shoes rubbing against your heel, toji cups your chin, staring right into your eyes. sukuna appears behind you, creeping, tossing your documents to the side and you grouse. “you can get in a lot more trouble for touching me, toji,” you utter, both eyes of yours staring intently into his. the eye contact was so intimate — you’ve never had a problem with eye contact until now. his smirk, he brushes a thumb against your bottom lip before scoffing. “s- seriously.”

sukuna’s crimson-red eyes reach towards the side of your hip, you were armed. cute, he hums whilst pondering just what his next step might be before toji cackles.

“okay and,” he purrs, leaning in just a bit deeper. you smelled the scent of alcohol lingering on his tongue. his eye contact was simply alluring, dark viridescent irises pool into yours before he looks at his partner. “heh, ‘kuna. you think we’ll get less probation if we play with the pretty lady for a bit?”

sukuna goes next to you, snatching your pen from you and you gasp once he’s now gripping your entire face. you nearly gnaw on your lip, as you make direct eye contact. his touch was still surprisingly gentle nonetheless.

toji purrs, running a thumb against your skin-tight fishnets. “nah, right pretty girl? you ain’t gonna rat on us, are ya? at least not when you’re this soaked.”

damn,

he was right again. the reason your legs were shut tight was because you were trying oh so desperately to hide the mess right between your thighs. it was embarrassing—the stickiness that presses against your legs has you growing more and more aroused. so unprofessional, you had to keep repeating that in the back of your head. you were soddened, soaking right through your pretty laced panties despite how much you didn’t want to come to terms with your filthy state. you’ve dealt with so many criminals. more than you could count on both fingers, so what made these two any different? you didn’t know, and quite frankly, you didn’t care.

anymore,

technically if you wanted to be delusional, you were basically off work. so a little fun wouldn’t matter.

then again, this little stunt would probably cost you your badge.

but screw it.

this kinda thing only happened in movies. and besides, it was only you currently on the clock. no one could even find out … right?

wrong.

you of course weren’t thinking about the future consequences that would creep up to follow you before you found yourself now shamefully on your knees for sukuna. he snickers at you, giving you a brief head pat before dragging your face up to his jeans.

“aw,” he murmurs, and you hear the low rasp of toji’s chuckle behind you. rough hands of his caress against both sides of your ass before pulling up your pencil skirt. you try to turn around but sukuna makes you shift your focus back towards him. “nah, detective. isn’t followin’ instructions part of y’er job? eyes down here..”

with a moan escaping from your throat, sukuna tugs down the lower part of his jumpsuit. the fabric ruffles and you’re met with a big bulge. oh, he was big. your first instinct was to paw at it with your hands, yet sukuna makes you rub your face against it. you can’t help but moan, sticking out your tongue as your face’s being smeared against his bulgy hard-on. “toji, she’s fuckin’ hungry. look at ‘er.”

toji hums, a finger of his trailing against your fishnets. they were skin tight, stuck against your skin like velcro. he groans, feeling the way you teasingly wriggle your ass against him. it was around midnight, surely no one would show up in the interrogation room—

although, the thought of it made you a bit more wet. you couldn’t lie to yourself though, you were familiar with these two criminals. you’d be crazy not to, everyone knew the toji fushiguro and sukuna ryōmen.

the duo,

you saw them all the time on local news. their mugshots would always get leaked. they’d always smile in their shots—gaining so much love from ladies. ironic, they even have fanfictions made about them.

there’s toji with the smug eye half-lidded grin, and then sukuna with the raised chin, natural fang-like teeth and grim annoyed expression.

your job was to question them not to be on your knees, but you weren’t complaining.

“all this ass,” toji snaps you out of your trance, gifting your rear a mean spank. the recoil of it drags you out of your little fantasm before you bite your lip and you’re facing directly forward. “what do ya want princess? want more don’t ya?”

you nod, sukuna’s cupping your chin with a sneer but your ass is only met with another rude smack.

“i- i want you both,” you grumble, toji smugly hums from your cute attitude. he’s taking in all of you — your curves, the cute beige trench coat you had on in an attempt to cover up your secret flashy outfit underneath, all of it. toji was handsy, once he had his hands on your hips, they were glued on. he groans from your answer before a thumb slides against your waist. “please.”

“but detective’s aren’t this dumb are they?” sukuna cranes his head to the right, squeezing both of your cheeks together with one hand. your lips were all glossy. he smears a thumb against them before leaning down to give you a kiss. you moan, kissing back before he pulls away, a lustrous concoction of spit departing from both mouths. “you sure you not gonna rat us out? both our lives are technically in your hands, princess.”

“i’m not gonna t- ah,” you stop to gasp, feeling toji’s bulge rub against you. his grip was delicate, he rubs yourself against him and groans. your arch was cute, bent over the table with your chest pressed against the multitude of paperwork. averting your lewd gaze back up towards sukuna, you loll out your tongue. he looks down, watching you create a snail trail of saliva near the middle part of his bulge. he’s so thick, the fabric tastes cottony against your tongue as you stare up at him. cerulean blue boxers with a tag sticking out from the side, yeah he definitely stole that. sukuna’s still got a grip on your scalp before he ogles at you pulling his boxers down. “s- so big.”

with a fat thumb still pressing down against your bottom lip, he coos out a sly tune. “scared yet?” and you prove him wrong by wrapping a hand around his base but god, he had staggering inches to him. toji’s still behind you and you moan once you feel him bring a wet kiss to your right ass cheek. he gives it a smooch only to spank it yet again, playfully giving it a bite mark. sukuna had just the right amount of curve to him. he’s so heavy that it hangs a bit — a pretty tannish peel of foreskin that you just wanted to run your tongue along. so you do. your mouth starts to gradually water as you inch up closer, and closer . . and closer.

sukuna’s staring at you with ruby red irises. you present his tip with a tiny lick and he grunts, your tongue feeling cold and dampened. “ugh, good girl. this is what that fuckin’ mouth should be used for. not talkin’ people’s ears off.”

his cock had a bit of a beige tan—sliding the top of your tongue against his frenulum, you watch as he grunts. sukuna’s fingers still maintain a firm enough grip against your scalp before you feel toji’s tongue. you whine, feeling the aching sensation of the other criminal propped up behind you preparing for a taste. toji roughly yanks your panties to the side, already pulling down your fishnets before he runs his nose all down your sopping, slick slit. “mhm, ‘kuna she’s already fuckin’ wet. all this time she was tryna get us to confess but her sloppy pussy’s the real culprit.”

rotund fingers of toji’s brush against your folds that were happily presented out to him—you’re facing forward and sukuna grabs ahold of his length. with a big hand, he rubs the tubby fat head of his tip over your face to make you moan before finally putting it in your mouth. he’s lengthy, you knew taking him inside would be quite the literal stretch. the girth too, so delicious. a vein that runs down the side of his shaft pulses in your mouth and you luxuriate in the taste. you hear the faint sound of ruffling behind you and it’s toji fondling with the holster that’s attached to your hip. “m-mhm,” were your muffled babbles, slowly taking every inch of sukuna down your tight throat. up until he’s all the way down, you almost gag whilst toji sneaks your firearm from out of its protective belt.

damn,

not only were you soaking wet for two criminals you were supposed to interrogate, but you were also unarmed.

great,

sukuna grabs a fistful of your hair — slender fingers massaging your scalp before giving it a firm pull. a hand of his claws into your hair, tugging firmly at your roots that cling against your scalp. he gruffly groans at your tongue, watching as your eyes close and your throat’s just so warm. it’s tight, the tense muscles in his and tighten before he slowly starts to drag your head back and forth, “good girl, no more talkin’ yeah,” and he peeks back at toji who’s paying his attention to you from behind. the other criminal’s messy, smearing a thumb down your pulsating clit before sucking it. it’s long, long sluuuurps that makes your muffled moans grow louder. your body shakes vigorously. the unsteady squirms of your body makes toji chuckle and you feel his hot, tempid breath ghost again your folds. you try to turn around but sukuna prevents it, gripping the crown of your head. “nuh uh princess, eyes up here.”

your body’s mixed with so much emotions — the throbbing without you only grows stronger, and as you’re rutting against the table, you hear the loud repetitive creaks. the furniture was wooden and worse for wear, probably over a hundred years old you’d guess. sukuna’s thin nostrils flare up once he meets your gaze, watching your head bob. “mmhh,” you try to speak, but he hums, ruffling your hair.

“don’t try ‘ta speak with your mouth full, baby,” he purrs to you in a rasp, a hand sliding underneath your chin, feeling the saliva trickle its way out the creaks of your lips. “you’re so messy. fuckin’ slobber mouth.”

toji’s practically making out with your cunt, pointed hooked tip of his nose brushing against your opening hood and you moan. he’s so nasty, taking every possible opportunity to spit on your cunt, later lapping it up with his tongue. two broad hands spread your ass open, lolling out his tongue to taste every inch you provided. “mhm,” he groans, occasionally swatting a sharp smack near both templed cheeks of your ass. you weren’t gonna last at all, you knew that. you start to grind against his face and he hums, nibbling against your clit either a sly smile. “thaaaat’s it, fuck back against my face, give it ‘t me,” and your entire body’s shaking. as you throat’s being stuffed, your chest continues to rumble against the cold, slick table.

toji feels your hand sneaking between your pried open thighs before you try to cutely creep and touch yourself. “whore, we don’t do that.” he grumbles, smacking your hand away. you whine, eyes meeting back up at sukuna who shrugs with a grin. his way of telling you, ‘ he’s right. don’t touch yourself. ’

as you taste a bit of pre-cum on your tongue, you lap your twitching moving muscle over sukuna’s slit that runs down his shaft’s head. he hisses, pulling you further onto his cock until he hears a tiny gag. “ooh, ‘m reachin’ the roof, huh,” and it’s so much saliva pouring from your mouth that it’s slithering down the valley of your chest. your legs shiver, feeling the scrap of toji’s scar tickle against your pussy — so good. he purposely rubs against your clit with it, feeling your hips continue to grind further back against his face. “she likes your scar toji, she’s kinky.”

“i know she does,” toji snickers, rubbing his face, smearing it all against your wet cunt. you whimper, faint hairs of his stubble sticking against your skin from the gripping slick. it’s just filthy, his tongue swirls all around your cunt before giving it a sloppy french kiss. you’re so close to the edge, focusing your mouth on sukuna’s cock, mentally pinching yourself because if this was a dream, you didn’t want to ever wake up. toji’s a freak though because you suddenly gasp sharply, feeling his thumb poke its way against your neglected, puckering hole.

“heh, can’t forget about her too.” he gruffly jibes, his tongue flicking towards that same area before shifting back towards your needy cunt. your legs were so jittery, on its last and final hinges before you slide a hand inside your blouse.

“awww,” sukuna teases, watching your face contort into a mixture of pleasure. “someone’s close, huh. you wanna make a mess on that bum’s face, pretty girl?”

“fuck you, man,” toji shoots him a glare before spreading your ass just a bit wider. his long tongue delves between your folds before your back arches against the table. giving your ass one final spank, you end up finishing and it’s so much.

you’re stunned, taken aback as you gush right on his face. his chin was sleek, dripping down with your honeyed juices that he laps clean. you’re a twitching, slobbering mess—frantically heaving through full lungs before many second’s later, your throat’s being poured full of sweltering hot cum. it’s oozing down your throat slowly. you blink twice before even realizing it’s his taste that’s filling up your mouth. sukuna’s meaty thighs tense as he drags you closer toward his cock. your nose bristles against his pink flushed pubes before he continues to dump an entire load right down your now full throat.

“goddamn,” he sucks the air, watching as you swallow without him even having to tell you—you look so pretty, pretty plump lips still sheeny and a few droplets of his seed bedaub against the left side of your cheek. “didn’t know defectives have such a nasty t- throat,” he groans, and that’s when he leans down, pulling you into a sultry, warm kiss. toji rolls his eyes, getting up himself while rubbing his body against your already propped up ass. docile, blown irises remain on sukuna before he squeezes your chin, curling his tongue down your throat. he groans, tasting himself on your mouth, bitterly sweet.

“yeah just forget about me,” toji grimaces, and you feel sukuna’s lips contort into a subtle smile before pulling away. he darkly chuckles, eyeing his partner.

“oh, sweetheart don’t be like that.”

“shut up,” he glares, and you hear a bit of shuffling. toji grabs your firearm and you take a few seconds to catch your breath. slow steady beats, you let off a tiny moan once you feel a smooth yet cold sensation rub against your pussy. shivering, you bite your lip before hearing yourself squelch continuously. “fuck, lemme see how wet you are, doll.”

you let off a tiny moan, feeling toji slowly skim the muzzle against your clit — you pulse from the friction, the criminal slicks a tongue against his scar at the sight. sukuna watches, cupping your chin once more. “wonder what y’r lieutenant might think of you. don’t think this is in a detective’s handbook, is it not?”

“n- no,” you feel a wave of pleasure ripple through you. never in your life have you felt more aroused, toji’s brushing the front part of the gun against your pussy before easing it inside.

easily, you coat it with your previous slick before it starts to slowly shove in. you whine, bringing a hand over your mouth. “mph,” and you hear a low cackle from behind, thighs shaking in pure rapture.

“is she wet enough, ‘toj?” toji hums, giving you another brief head pat.

“yeah, fuckin’ slut made a mess already on the front sight,” he snarls. the tint in his pants growing hard. he pulls it out and already, it’s a slippery sheet of your sweet smearing over your own firearm. dirty thoughts purged your brain, imagining yourself using the exact same weapon on a threat, the same exact weapon that was just shoved deep into your cunt only a second ago.

you were egregiously throbbing and they both couldn’t wait anymore, neither could you. toji takes a seat near one of the steel chairs, sitting manspread. he’s already got his jumpsuit pulled down, burly brawny muscles flexing—a few explicit tattoos painting on both sleeves of his beefy arm. he’s so chiseled, so fucking hot. a big hand rubs his lap before ushering you to sit with a single hand motion. “sit on it,” and a burning heat overtakes you, peering at his thick cock that was stood tall and on display. he was so big, a blushing reddened tip with an even bigger base. toji was thickset, you couldn’t compare the two if you wanted. his neck lowers as you make your way on his lap, straddling him and preparing to align yourself. sopping wet sloshes squelches, you were drooling down from your cunt and right onto the fat tip of his dick. you moan, feeling how he’s slowly entering your heated core.

the stretch was so good — so fucking good.

“fuck, there we go baby. nice ‘n slow, yeah,” and toji catches sukuna staring, an annoyed scowl on his lips. “oh, sweetheart. ‘s someone jealous? why don’t you get in here?”

“tch,” sukuna mumbles, and he goes up behind you. toji’s barely in, halfway, yet it feels like full. you pulsed at the thought of both of them inside. sukuna hesitates though, planting a kiss near the inside of your nape. “whaddya say, pretty. ‘s that okay? ‘d ya want both? can you take two?”

“y— yes,” you suck your teeth, sucking a single sharp breath. toji was so fucking big, stirring up your insides so good until the butterflies fluttering inside your stomach died from the friction. it was a tight fit, and they both hum at how quick you were to respond. “i can take both. pleaseplease just hurry.”

“what ‘bout your ‘lil date?” toji teases, a big hand smacking against your ass — gifting it a solid firm squeeze. his thumb brushes against the soft skin before snickering at you. “both holes, if we give you that, you promise this goes off the record?”

sukuna whispers against your ear, and he’s starting to delve his cock in also, tugging down his boxers halfway. “yeah, princess. no snitchin’ yeah?”

“p- promise,” you moan, the mixture of both cocks brewing up such a feeling of bliss. you’re steadily throbbing before your hips start to move into toji. with a loud pop, your cunt squelches as it’s double stuffed and they both huskily groan in simultaneous unison. so fucking big, your jaw drops at both tips puncturing into you at once. you feel it all, embarrassingly feeling the same familiar sheet of slick stick against your thighs. “oh my g-goddd.”

each body that stuck against each other was so hot, sukuna grabs your hips from the back and toji holds yours from the front. “fuck,” the pink haired man grunts, feeling how easily you clamp down against him. toji’s cock kisses—french kisses against a spongey spot that makes you dumbly slump against his chest. “mhm, look at her toji. such a sloppy mess for two criminal cocks. maybe she should get arrested.”

“then that’d be no fun,” toji plays along, a scarred hand giving your right ass cheek a teasing grip.

the recoil bounces and bounces against his lap before he’s tossing his head back. occasionally, you spot his adam’s apple bobbing before he pants. you’re jerking your hips, trying to develop some kind of rhythm but it’s just rubbish. you’re trying, both cocks molding your walls with each merciless thrust. already, you’re drooling, brushing up against toji’s chest. you’re hit face first against his tits—not even tits but with cups that big, you might as well call it that. there’s not a single thought in your empty brain, and without thinking, you lean down to latch your mouth against his perky exposed nipples. “wha- fuckin’ weirdo.”

toji grunts, feeling you suck against his chest, rolling out your tongue into a swirl against each spot. you’re still being filled from both cores, both heated angles as your lashes flutter. oh, this felt like some kind of erotic fantasy, just being stuffed and sandwiched between two top dogs. the pit of your stomach grows feverishly warm and you whine, sucking against toji’s tender skin. “aw, think you might be her favorite, toji.” sukuna jeers, steadying your hips a bit. his voice, his breath, it went right up against the lobe of your ear, giving it a teasing lick of its own.

you whimper, naturally arched brows creasing and furrowing together as you feel a coil snap.

they finally reached your g-spot, it feels soft and padded. “fuck fuuuuck, ‘s good,” you babble, pathetic sobs pouring from your lips as you’re practically humping toji’s cock. sukuna fills you from behind, flustered crown repeatedly kissing up against clenching sexes. you’re transmitted in a dimwitted state, claws of your own fingernails digging into toji’s beefy thighs. “ngh, ‘s big. fuck, don’t stop— please.”

“what a fuckin’ blabbermouth,” toji grunts, watching as you paw your hands at his chest again. you weren’t sucking on him anymore and he brings a hand over your mouth. “nasty girl. this what you really wanted all along, huh. you didn’t wanna interrogate us, you just wanted to get stuffed, yeah?”

a silent reply comes out of your lips as you’re just covering their bases with a translucent puddled mess of your arousal — it’s messy, you’re messy.

“knock knock, dumb girl,” toji lightly knocks against your forehead, witnessing right before his eyes as your own pupils start to roll back. he removes his hand from your mouth and the intense friction of pleasures was so appetizing you could barely formulate an audible sentence. you’re still being filled in both areas, gummy walls taking in them both before you start to drool again. with a single hand, toji holds up your head as if he’s holding a trophy. “don’t tell me y’r already dumb, c’monnn. wanna hear that sweet voice.”

“t- tooooji,” was all you could babble out, rocking back and forth between each of them.

languid, slow hits against your core had your head spinning. with a sharp wind cutting straight out of your windpipe, you’re panting, clinging onto the dark haired man tightly. he eyes you with that same cunning smirk, clammy hands helping to reel you back and forth into his pelvis. sukuna groans lowly, edges of his teeth seeping down into the soft corners of your flesh. “fuck, ‘m so full. fuuuck.”

they both groan at the same time, feeling you suddenly clamp down, a squelch squeals out of your cunt before your legs merely collapse. with piles of hands roaming down your feverish skin, you start to feel your mouth salivate again.

sweet, salty saliva trickles its way into your mouth. you were so loud but your deafening thumping heart beats were even louder. “good girl, doin’ so good takin’ us both. nice ‘n slow,” and the nape of your neck’s met with a chaste kiss from sukuna. “ride this bum ‘till he breaks for me, yeah?”

with wobbling legs preparing to surrender and fall in defeat— you nod your head, picking up your pace just a bit. raven strands of unkempt hair run down toji’s face before he groans. “mhm, nasty ‘lil girl. don’t listen to him, ‘m not gonna— oh fuck.”

toji’s caught off guard by how sloppy your hips become. a breath gets caught in his throat as you’re grinding against him, sucking them both in so filthy. with your clit repeatedly being smothered with kisses from each tip, you moan, throwing your arms over his shoulders. “hngh, toji. ‘m gonna cum,” you whisper in his ear, growing a bit of spine to kiss near his neck. he grunts, thick weighty cock slamming into you raw. as you’re so close up to him, you feel his jaw tighten at your hips—sukuna’s hips following too. various pairs of hands grab onto your body, and you feel a jumble of bunch of figurative red handed prints clawing at your body. “toji t- tojiiii,” you’re mewling out his name like a broken record. sukuna’s rude sharp smack against your ass making you add his name. “sukuna, fuuuck.”

“look at him, he’s so close, baby,” sukuna murmurs against your ear, jerking your hips further against toji. toji’s raspy groans grow rougher and he slouched back against the chair. you’re in nothing more than a cowgirl position yet you’re being double stuffed by two — on toji’s lap and sukuna claiming you from behind. so lewd, he’s so close that he could almost taste his orgasm, the thought alone scratches such a carnal itch in his brain. a few fingers wrap around your neck, giving you a gentle tug before you croak out a squeak. “such a nasty detective. gettin’ wet for the people y’r supposed to be questioning,” and he reaches his a hand down between the crack of your thighs, feeling against your stuffed cunt. “should be questioning this sloppy girl instead.”

“fuck fuuuuck,” toji growls, his own thigh starting to mimic the pace of your hips, bouncing back and forth. the curve of your hips swivel ‘n swirl around his lap, taking in each salacious thrust. it’s too good. the mean grip your walls has against his cock, both cocks was just too addictive. “shit, ‘m gonna cum, babygirl. ‘s gonna be so much.”

you lean in, planting a wet kiss against his scar and his mouth twitches at the sudden contact. “mhm,” you rut into him quicker, feeling sukuna’s fingertips ghost against the outer part of your neck. toji’s eyes become half-lidded, sukuna’s following his movements — eventually matching each other in sync, in perfect harmony. both were reaching their peaks and it was just so inevitable.

slowly but surely, it was approaching. you felt that familiar bubble of pleasure fermenting in the bottom pits of your tummy all too well. it’s so good, by now you completely forgotten about the fact that you were supposed to go out tonight.

“fuck, where do you want it, pretty,” sukuna rasps against your ear, both hands slithering its way toward your bouncing tits. his thumbs prod against your sensitive nipples, swiping against the tender area as he watches you squirm in lewd ecstasy. you feel hot, dozens of meaningless babbles pouring out of your mouth. you’re a mess, barely able to comprehend what he said until he spanks your cunt a single greet. “talkin’ to you, gimme a answer, princess. don’t be rude.”

“i- inside,” you whimper, his touch against your breasts making you grind your hips further back against him. your rhythm was hypnotic, matching every single hit and thrust. both cocks deeply plunge their way into your walls until it’s buried way into the hilt. you whine, grabbing into sukuna’s hands yourself, making him squeeze harder. his touch, it made you throb. him spanking your cunt only made you twice as sopping wet though. more than you already were. “inside pleaseplease.”

“nasty,” toji tchs, gripping your chin to make you look up at him. you’re met with the coldest gaze. with a hand sliding down your spine from sukuna, toji brings your torso forward at a more quick pace to slam you quicker into them. you gasp, feeling both slit tips thwack and thwack into your weeping, swollen cunt. “fuckin’ — shit,” he growls lowly, and the moment finally comes.

the both of them at separate, divided times, finish deep inside you. a vastly oozing amount of cum emits into both holes raw and you huff.

whining, you fall into toji’s chest, relishing in the sticky mess that’s cascading deep into your womb. it’s hot, a flowing stream of seed that spouts all the way inside and you’re left dumbfounded and hungry for more.

oh, you’ve never felt anything like it. a tingling sensation storms into the pit of your stomach as they both groan, dumping you full of their satiny ropes of cum.

“fuck,” sukuna grunts, holding your hips still so you could feel every drop, every single drop. he hisses at the brief sting, your walls gripping onto them tight, a tenaciously slimy mess skating down your plush thighs. “such a good girl, heh. right ‘toj?”

“shut— up,” he puffs out an elongated breath of fresh air. you moan, still shivering as you came undone yourself, making a cute attempt at riding out your orgasm. still, your hips were slow but barely cresting haste. toji looks at you with glossed eyes and for a split second, he’s speechless. “goddamn baby, y- you’re a mess, y’know that?”

your own eyelids were growing significantly heavy, barely able to keep themselves open. after a few seconds, sukuna pulls out, watching a foamy wad of cum — a milky base, coating around each base. it’s so hot, the stuffed cum pours out of you and you hear the needy squelches your cunt makes. desperately craving for more, utterly devestated that it’s now clenching on nothing except for toji’s flaccid cock.

so messy,

he cranes your head toward him before brushing a thumb against your lip. “c’mere,” and his tone was low, you moan before leaning in to give him a kiss. your heart races, mentally swearing at yourself because this wasn’t part of the job.

your boss, some middle-aged lieutenant was expecting a full report of alibis and details about each of their cases — and yet here you were, making out with one suspect and grinding on another. shame foils at your brain as your lips crash against sukuna’s, moaning at his minty, sugary taste before he abruptly breaks away. “can’t forget about you, big guy.”

as he pried himself off of you, you watch as the pink haired criminal leans in to kiss toji, his eyes widen, hearing a low cackle rumble against his lips before he returns the gesture. toji puffs, not knowing where to place his hands. you don’t know why, but watching them sloppily make out made you throb. you’re still sitting on toji’s lap with his twitching cock still buried inside of you. sukuna slyly smiles against the other felon’s mouth. his hand trails down toji’s beefy body, stopping toward his shaft — he was so close to touching it but stops. that makes toji groan.

gradually, he pulls away - a sheeny web of spit departs from each lips and toji grows flustered.

“what the fuck.” toji grunts.

“oh, i heard that moan, don’t deny it.”

it was like this the entire time — countless banner, a plethora of positions in the interrogation room. the same interrogation room where you were supposed to be interrogating.

but that didn’t happen, and instead, you’ve been left stuffed full more than you’ve ever felt before. your clothes were practically torn and ruined, including your pretty fishnets.

with a sigh, you’re on your knees with both criminals gawking at you. their zipped up saffron-colored jumpsuits were back on and toji grabs your chin. “open, baby,” and sukuna’s toying with your handcuffs. knees of yours bury into the solid sleek floor before you part your lips open. toji watches, whipping back out your firearm before pressing the barrel between your lips. “lick it.”

you moan, lapping your tongue against the metal pierce—sukuna watches, growing quiet and wonders what toji’s gonna do next. you could feel your pulse through your ears again, it’s so loud that it puts booming speakers to shame.

pretty fluttering lashes of yours bat within each blink before toji bends down a bit toward your kneeling level. “good girl,” he roughly replies, sticking a finger between the trigger. it toggles against it and you feel a heat of nerves prick against your skin—giving birth to what appears to be goosebumps. toji has a smug grin, raising a dark brow. “you trust me, baby?”

stupidly enough, without hesitation, you nod with the metallic taste of the weapon still lingering on your tastebuds. “y- yes,” and your voice is so soft and pathetic. you sounded needy, longing for more of their touch, more of their taste. “i trust you toji.”

he makes your mouth pry open a bit more. pretty swollen lips,

perfect.

the gun, your gun that’s held currently in his hand, it goes straight into your mouth, your tongue flicks against the upper part of the barrel before he scoffs. “good girl.”

and you hear a single clicking cock,

your eyes widen, and it takes you a minute to realize toji just pulled the trigger.

but nothing happens,

and suddenly, his boner was ruined.

“well shit.”

6K notes · View notes

moonchild1 · 11 months ago

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jeon jungkook fic rec list (Ⅹ)

yup i've hit you with another list and once again i had so much fun putting it together... i was away for a bit but that spark came back and i'm back in action... this list holds so many amazing fics i've read it's alot of different types of storylines and some new genres i wanted to try out and i am so excited to go down that road with these new genres i haven't explored yet, but please do enjoy this list there's so many great fics here you will get lost in it i know it did, my next list should be out by next month i want to take time to read as many as i can and get back all that excitement so the next one might take a while... since these fics are so outstanding we can't forget to give all the love and support to the incredible authors who have taken the time to plan and write these fics without them we wouldn't get to read such beautiful and entertaining fics so please so them all the love and support in the world cause they truly deserve it leave them a nice comment, like and reblog the posts so others can discover them too and give them a follow and check out their masterlists i'm telling you, you will most definitely fall in love with their work and find lots of great pieces in there. most of the fics i recommend contain smut so no minors allowed and don't interact you as well as ageless blgs will be blocked and if you would like to share a fic with me you are more than welcome too i love hearing from you i hope you all enjoy this list and till next time ~ kiki ♡

f- fluff s- smut a-angst

series

between takes by @jeonstudios f s a

as a fluffer for a popular porn star, your focus is to keep him hard and performing on set. turns out he's not the only thing that's hard.

i want you to stay by @ahundredtimesover f s a

Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You've dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

you're losing me by @sparklingchim s a

in the midst of marital challenges, jungkook and you grapple with the complexities of your relationship. yet, the lingering question whispers: how do you truly determine if the journey is worthwhile?

kiss the girl by @guked f s a

after saving a human prince from being drowned by the sea witch, you’re cursed by that infamous witch to live out the rest of your days as a human—unless you can manage to get true love’s kiss from that very same prince. which would be a simple task, had he not hated you the moment you met.

flux by @yoonia s a ft. myg

One of them is your longtime secret crush, while the other is the man with whom you had shared many heated nights filled with lust and forbidden desire, forever kept as your biggest secret of all time. You had sworn that those sinful nights would end, and that your secret crush would remain a secret. poly au

in motion by @/yoonia s

The rule is simple; you can look but you can’t touch. You’ve been attending the event for a few times since you’ve encountered the voyeurism club, but it was only when a certain boy arrives on one occasion did you feel the fire of lust burning inside.

what the fire gave us by @gimmethatagustd f s a

↬ You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

friend in me by @ktheist f s a

“don’t confuse your party friends with your real friends.”

knife's edge by @readyplayerhobi f s a ft. pjm

The Jeon Clan is Family, built on blood and loyalty. It’s been an unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the Clan, Jeon Jungkook. You would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?

take a chance by @crystaljins a

You should have known the second your business partner asked you to plan his best friend’s wedding as a favour that it was going to be nothing but trouble. Especially when it turns out he’s in love with said best friend. And dying of a deadly disease because of it.

chess of ice by @jimlingss f a

Jeon Jungkook is a rising star, aka. hockey captain of a team heading for the Olympics. The last thing he expects is to begin a whole ‘nother sport, holding a broomstick in his hand, sweeping the ice and throwing dumb stones towards a target. As if that wasn’t bad enough, his love life is about to turn into a game of chess as well....and you’re his opponent.

diamond in the rough by @kimvtae f s a

When a business heir from Busan, Jeon Jungkook, meets you, a poor girl from Daegu, he doesn’t expect to fall as quickly as he does. He’s been told for his entire life to avoid Daegu, a town riddled with gangs and a history of a brutal murder in Busan, but he can’t stay away from you, even when he’s warned that you’re not good enough for him.

try hard by @hobibliophile f s

Yoongi asks you to help him photograph the university rugby team, and you’re reluctant until you see Jeon Jungkook in uniform. Damn.

cruel intentions by @jeonqukie f s a

All is well in your overtly simplistic life. You managed to maintain decent grades in university all the while progressing through your relationship with your long-time boyfriend and accompanying your best friend in her exhausting personal life. But as the saying goes when there are ups, there will surely be downs. While you’ve maintained this upward pattern, you are defeated when one afternoon inevitably brings you to a downward spiral. All good things must come to an end. Who knew you would be sharing the same sentiment with someone you barely know.

sillage by @deerguk s

Soulmate!AU where soulmates are drawn to one another by the infliction of physical touch, whether it be pain or pleasure. But it is only initiated once the two people somewhat interact.

remote learning by @hansolmates s

working remote sucks, and you would love a little relief. after buying a new toy to blow off some steam, you’re baffled when you can’t cum. however, jungkook thinks you’re doing it wrong, and shows you a thing or two.

when it rains by @choiwrites s a

Being an exotic dancer was never easy. Every day was the same for you, until you reached that one breaking point you’ve been avoiding since your miserable life started. On a rainy night, Jungkook and his yellow umbrella were your last call of hope.

hate at first weeb by artaemis, freckleyoon (ao3)

You just want to weeb in peace but your annoying downstairs neighbour just won't let you breathe

wanted by @jincherie s a

You were a deserter, a renegade, a wanted “criminal”. It was never in your plans to crash land on that planet, and it most certainly wasn’t in your plans to fall in love with it’s handsome ruler.

everything in you by @jjungkookislife f s a

You want a baby and Jungkook is willing to help. f2l, roommates au, pregnant!reader

home for the holidays by @/jjungkookislife f s a

Jungkook is in desperate need to find a girlfriend for Christmas. His mom has nagged and nagged about him bringing someone home for the holidays. Determined, Jungkook recruits his friends in hopes of finding the right girl to take home. In need of a place to stay, and no plans for Christmas, you answer his friend’s ad. You have 25 days to convince not only his parents but his grandmother that you’re in a real relationship, solid enough to get through Christmas with the Jeons.

every breath you take by @junqkook s a

everything was going great when you first met jeon jungkook. he was a new light in your life with soft smiles and tinkling laughs; but then you noticed a lurking presence that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

navy by @jjkfire f a

He’s your best friend, practically your other half and the two of you have always promised to be there for each other no matter what. The both of you have dreams of professionally making music together one day and to you it’s almost like reality, a given really, and with each day, the dream starts to feel like it’s within reach. But, one day, with one sentence, Jungkook destroys it all.

wicked by @adonis-koo s a

In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?

paper doll by @winetae s a

When the nation’s little sister, IU, gets into a huge scandal, your agency seizes the opportunity to thrust you into that now vacant spotlight. Your self-composed song Paper Doll becomes an overnight sensation, and soon people are itching to find out who was the one who broke your heart. All hell breaks loose once netizens discover that you used to date popular idol, Jeon Jungkook. Little do they know that it wasn’t him who left the relationship unscathed — it was you.

one shot

the devil's change up by @jungblue f s

Majoring in athletic training means you have mandatory observation hours to perform with every single sports team at your school throughout the year, and so far it’s been going pretty great. However, when regrets from your past cause your rotation with the baseball team to become a little rocky, there’s one star pitcher who says that he can make it all better.

this is how we break up by @/ahundredtimesover s a

There are things you prepared for coming back home and that includes seeing your ex-boyfriend, but helping him design his apartment isn’t one of them. From meetings over coffee and lunches with your friends, you both learn more about the time in-between, and what you find out leave you heartbroken, wondering if there’s enough of you left to try to get back what you’d lost. “You know what they say about past lovers remaining friends? It’s either they never loved each other to begin with, or they still do. And we all know how much they loved each other, don’t we?”

a piece of the moonlight by @/jimlingss f a

For your loved ones, the people who are waiting at home, the people who have died - you will fight. And sometimes to fight means to sacrifice: who you really are and the person you really love.

the quest to bedding the lead singer of frontman by @kpopfanfictrash s

Frontman is your favorite band in the world and honestly, the only reason you waited this long in line is to stand at the front for a shot with the lead singer. Enter sexy sound boy, who just won’t leave you alone. (punk!Jungkook)

heartbreak trials by @dreamyjoons s a

it all started with a bet: the one with the highest body count would get the most illustrious prize - Namjoon’s bedroom. For you and Jungkook, the race was on.

perhaps love by @mangowillow f a

for as long as you can remember, you have been in love with your childhood friend turned roommate, but jeon jungkook remains oblivious even when he comes to comfort and help you sleep every night.

what? now by @theharrowing f s

For as long as you and Jungkook have been friends, your feelings for him have been unrequited. Or have they?

lilac wisteria by @blushoseoks f a

the first time jeon jungkook says that he is going to marry you, you are five years old sitting underneath a large wisteria tree.

tell me no lies by @jeongi f s a

You chose to rob your boss, however; you never expected to fall in love with him.

mcd*ckin by @jinned s

"So, if I'm so predictable," you tease, running your finger along his clothed chest, "what am I going to do next?"

things you said while you were driving by @cupofteaguk f

post breakup au

(y)our name by @jjkpls f s a ft ot 6

It’s always been the two of you since you were little. People came and went in your lives and Jungkook didn’t mind until you turn into grown-ups and he starts to mind a bit too much.

(un)welcomed addition by @shuadotcom f a

After a drunken one night stand with your neighbor, you have your reasons for wanting to forget it ever happened and never talk to him again. Unfortunately, Jungkook wins the award for the world’s worst neighbor so his 3 am wakeup calls and mail stealing have you banging at his door on an almost weekly basis. You just want to make it to the end of your lease so you can leave all the traces of the fuckboy next door behind...unless your feelings get in the way of course.

Just Like the Movies by @/shuadotcom f s a

When you need a fake date for your cousin’s wedding and all of your other friends have plans, that only leaves your best friend Jungkook - who you also happen to be completely in love with. It’ll be easy getting through a week of fake dating him, right?

watermelon sugar by @/shuadotcom f s a

When your friends outvote you for your annual summer trip, you end up stuck at a beachside town. To make it worse, there’s an irritating local surfer boy that won’t leave you alone… that is until you see him shirtless and in the water - then you don’t want him to leave you alone and your unexpected summer romance begins.

take my whole life by @/ktheist f s a

chaebol au. arranged marriage au. expecting parents au.

never let you go by @yeojaa f s

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t. (or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

speaking in bodies by @/yeojaa f s a

The holidays have never meant much to you - less a promise of Christmas morning joy and more a reminder of all the things you’ve lost. Some would call you a grinch; others, just a plain old asshole. Jeon Jungkook would call you both. The more time you spend together, though, the more you thaw, melting beneath the sun that seems to sit right in the centre of his chest.

howling for you by @fortunexkookie f s

The way your Little Red Riding Hood costume lured over a fuckboy in a half-assed werewolf costume was a little cliche, but god damn was he beautiful. He promised he had plenty of big things to show you, and you took him up on the offer, not realizing that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew

cold nights & blurred lines by @awrkive f s a

jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

christmas is waiting for you by @/lamourche f s ft myg (ao3)

Being home for the holidays surrounded by your well-meaning family isn’t that bad. All you have to do is (1) survive the Andersons’ annual Christmas Eve party, (2) avoid all questions about your job, and (3) avoid your high school nemesis (not a crush!), Jeon Jungkook.

lost stars by @/subvk f s a (ao3)

Falling in love with Jeon Jungkook was everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more, but maybe it was exactly that: a dream so blissful and comforting that it was too good to be true, something that could all disappear when the night changes to day, and your eyes open again. Or, making a marriage pact with your best friend was supposed to instill a sense of hope for you, so why does this hurt you more than it should?

a beautiful epiphany by @/subvk f s a (ao3)

Derailed by heartbreak and the loss of inspiration, Jeon Jungkook tries to rediscover his love for art again. As his best friend, you’re willing to do anything to help him reignite his lost passion. Little do you know that the struggling artist’s new muse is closer than you think.

the philosophy of goodluck by @kidguk f s

“you told me i looked good and that you needed to get a tattoo of my face” is not the explanation you wanted to hear from the tattoo artist that permanently etched the dumbest drunken request of your life onto your skin.

mountebank by @/kidguk f s ft. pjm

Soulmate AU featuring Jimin, in which you’ve been waking up next to your soul-enemy and running from your soul-mate. Figure that mess out, will you?

holidays of breads and wood by @cutaepatootie f a

Every December now smells like freshly baked bread and wood to you. Its cold wind brings you memories of him every morning as you are kneading your mixture of water, flour and a pinch of nutmeg – the secret ingredient that makes your bread taste so special. It seeps through the open window of your small kitchen and shakes your entire body. It seeps under your flour-stained apron, getting through your clothes and reminding you of his soft touch. It sounds like forest and shines like snow under the sunlight. It fills your nostrils with familiar scents. Every December now feels like distant memories of a man you once knew, who loved to carve his dreams in wood.

a fallen bookmark on a thursday afternoon by @/cutaepatootie f s a

He came to you like the air comes into the train station after the fast arriving of the machine. It comes fast and unexpected, making you hoist your head to look at the long vehicle and the people inside. It is so fast you can’t even distinguish the different wagons. As the train comes to a stop, the wind that it creates plays with your hair, leaving you breathless. That’s how Jeon Jungkook came into your life.

every kind of way by @gukslut s

Three little vignettes, three completely different experiences, same perfectly wonderful boyfriend JK

heavy lifting by @snackhobi f

you work the night shift in a supermarket. and now your crush, aka the cutest boy in the world, aka the guy you’ve been thirsting after for months, aka jeon jungkook, works the night shift too.

blue orchid by @inkedtae f a

hanahaki & soulmate au

up to snow good by @aredheadedmess f a

It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

cherry bomb by @milfgyuu f s

You’re a cocktail waitress in a high end nightclub and you’ve been mutually crushing on one of the bartenders. Tonight, one of your customers oversteps boundaries and when Jungkook gets involved, you’re ready to toss your ‘no dating co-workers’ policy out the window.

work it out by @/choiwrites s

You never would have thought that you’d be working with the college dropout who was coincidentally your best friend’s ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Saying his name already burns your tongue, you wonder how long you can hold your professionalism around him.

all in by @iamjungkooked s a

Jeon Jungkook is everything you have ever desired in a partner. He’s kind, passionate, funny, honest, warm and every positive adjective in the dictionary. He totally gets you and you get him. He seems like the perfect guy for you, except he is dating your best friend. What could possibly go wrong? OR The four times you get the wind knocked out of you by Jeon Jeongguk

until my last breath by @/iamjungkooked s a

Sporting an undercut and tattoos Jeon Jungkook waltzes back in your life after 5 years of being away. You think you know him– and just when you think you have gotten close, he reveals a secret (or two). Following this, is a series of trials and tribulations that concludes in a way you never expect. (Alternatively: the one where Jungkook creates a mess out of you)

está dañada by @aquagustd f s a

life through the eyes of someone who watches you fall apart and helps gather the shards of your heart, only for you to make the same mistake time and time again, but he refuses to accept the truth because to him, you’re infallible.

coin toss by @yoondoze a

you and jeongguk go way back, even before you were the menacing duo many knew you to be, even before he brought you into the mafia and left you there to join the city’s detective agency. a call for cooperation comes out of a common enemy, requiring the two of you to reconcile for one last mission.

wonder by @bubmyg f a

romance novels lie about finding some deep epiphany in the ocean because you find your inspiration in some chlorine tainted red locks or where jeongguk isn’t smooth with a pool net.

starboy by @sugaxjpg s

Jeon Jungkook was, above anything else, the type you should not get involved with. He was the guy who slept around; the guy who was gone before you woke up; who left a path of broken hearts and missed calls wherever he went. He was right in just about every wrong way. That being said, maybe the bet you made with your friend could be the best thing that happened to you in a long time, and even enough to break the chain of misfortune that circled your party nights — after all, it was all just a simple, four-part plan to make Jungkook beg for you. What could possibly go wrong?

symmetry by @adriftmoonchild s a

with both of you being from rival houses, the smirk that jungkook seemed to throw in your direction every shared class did nothing for your disdain towards him. as far as you were concerned he was arrogant and childish; you just wished he wasn’t so damn good in bed.

little surfer girl by @ppersonna f s a

every summer you watched jeon jungkook turn into a perfect, professional surfer. every summer, you wanted him more. this summer, you were determined to make him yours.

↬looking for other jjk fics or the other members check out my library

2K notes · View notes

angelwonie · 2 years ago

Text

X + Y = YOU AND I || jeon wonwoo

PAIRING: academic rival!wonwoo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 8.6k

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, rivals to lovers, college au

SUMMARY: you wish jeon wonwoo would sometimes act like an insufferable prick instead of the perfect guy, because then you wouldn't have to feel your head spinning each time he looks at you.

WARNINGS: SMUT [unprotected sex, fingering, use of petnames (baby, good girl), praise, some degradation, sex in an empty classroom] wonwoo is so in love

Class discussions where both Wonwoo and you are involved never end well.

Partly, it’s because none of you possess the ability of backing down from a fight, but mostly it’s because of Wonwoo’s annoying tendencies of having read all the books in the world, which allows him to criticize every word that comes out of your mouth.

Which again leaves you with no choice but to get angry and argue even more vividly — though Soonyoung claims that’s just your own stubbornness making matters worse.

He doesn’t get it, though. The desire to beat Wonwoo at his own game each time he opens his mouth. It’s something you can’t entirely explain, but it keeps you grounded, and so you don’t question it too much. The adrenaline that comes along with it is enough for you.

And that’s exactly what keeps you going today — Wonwoo’s annoying takes on social anthropology.

“I just don’t think cultural differences are the root of conflicts.”

He says this and shrugs, eyes subconsciously drifting to the side to look at you. As expected, you’re already raising your hand to comment on his statement and he has to fight the urge to smile. Despite coming in tired, eyes drooping, you’re eager to partake in a discussion with him. Always. It’s a little too reassuring to think about, so he stops, and instead focuses on what you’re saying.

“That’s a baseless claim to make,” you scoff, and again, he feels his lip twitch, almost forming a smile. “Of course they are. No differences means nothing to fight about.”

“Yes, in theory,” he says, and his eyes crinkle with the smile he offers you. A smile you can’t seem to tell if is cocky or genuine. “But cultural differences aren't everything. If we don’t have culture, people will still form opinions. And those opinions will still become the roots of conflicts.”

With those words, he crosses his arms over his chest, his elbow bumping into you.

You’re not sure who came up with the idea of the two of you sitting together in the classroom, but moments like these make you want to find that person and rip their hair out. Because in what universe should you have to argue with Jeon Wonwoo while his shoulder is literally touching yours?

It’s stupid, unethical, and every other derogatory term you can come up with, but most of all, it’s making it hard to focus. Obviously, it’s not about him, it’s about the closeness itself. You think. Probably.

You lean a bit to your left so you can actually think of a response, but end up sighing and asking a question instead.

“So you’re saying conflicts are inevitable?”

He tongues his cheek – a sign that he’s in deep thought – and bumps his elbow into you again. An accident, probably, but it catches your attention nevertheless.

“I’m saying disagreements become conflicts because we can’t handle our emotions. It’s not differences that are the problem, it’s our way of handling them.”

And there it is — that twinkle in his eyes that signalizes he knows he’s won. You know it, too, from the way he leans back into his chair and your words die down in your throat and the professor nods his head approvingly. Still, you wish he wouldn’t be so fucking happy about it.

“Asshole,” you mumble only loud enough for him to hear as you sink back into the chair.

He chuckles and you feel your insides turn. God, he’s annoying. Super annoying.

Especially when he leans a bit to your side of the desk, face a lot closer to yours than it needs to be when he whispers, “Good job.”

You glare at his soft expression, your own face heating up in something resembling embarrassment.

“No need to gloat about your success, dickhead.”

“I’m not gloating,” he frowns, the smile slowly fading from his face.

“Sure you aren’t. You’re just kindly reminding me that you’re better than me.”

“That’s not what– That’s not true.”

His voice falters, and he leans back in his chair and taps his pen against the desk. You scoff at him, but it’s nowhere as threatening as you’d like it to be — thrown off by the quiver in his tone.

“It is true,” you whisper, more to yourself, and avert your gaze from him.

The professor picks up where he left off, and you let your thoughts scatter and eyes drift closed. It’s been a long day, you think. Thankfully, the professor’s got you and Wonwoo placed in the back, and so he doesn’t notice it when you manage to fall asleep in your chair, head falling to the side.

Wonwoo notices, though. Your cheek squished against your shoulder, hair in your face. It’s not the first time you’ve fallen asleep in class, and he should probably start scolding you for it, but seeing your under eye bags and hearing your tired voice makes something turn unpleasantly in his stomach. And so he lets you sleep.

(It’s all because of his perceptiveness.

You know about this trait of his, and it’s awful. How he hands you a pen when you’ve forgotten your own without you having to ask for it. How he knows when to shut up during an argument, because your face tells him he’s won. How he never feels the need to embarrass you, or anyone, for that matter.

He’s a good person in and out, and you hate him for it.)

It’s not before the class is nearing its end that Wonwoo decides to wake you.

“Y/N,” you feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake, and then a deep voice hits your ears. Wonwoo’s voice, you realize instantly, and then criticize your heart for jumping at the thought. “You might wanna wake up for this.”

“Huh?”

Wonwoo’s smiling at you softly, and you sit up straight, confused. At least until you see your professor clutching his phone against his ear, muttering aggressively.

“His wife called,” Wonwoo explains in a hushed tone, leaning towards you so you hear him better. “I feel kinda bad for the guy. She doesn’t seem to like him very much.”

You rub your eyes and yawn, then realize Wonwoo is sitting right there, and clear your throat.

“Maybe he’s an asshole.”

“Maybe,” he turns to look at you. “Girls like assholes, though, don’t they?

Your breath hitches in your throat involuntarily. You’re not sure whether it’s from the question or from the way he’s looking at you – like he’s already got you all figured out – but it’s making you nervous. All of it, him. And now that you’re discussing a topic you’re not certain about, it shows.

You chuckle nervously, “Where’d you get that from?”

“You, mostly.”

“Excuse me?”

He offers you a smile, one that you subconsciously accept by feeling your insides turn to mush. This has got to be the longest you’ve spoken to him without mutual friends around, and without arguing. Truthfully, you don’t hate it. You’d never have thought that this would be the topic of your first ever civil conversation, though.

“Minghao? Seungkwan? Your type’s pretty obvious.”

“Do you spy on me or something?” you ask, a little baffled he knows the names of your previous boyfriends. You weren’t hiding it or anything, but Wonwoo’s never shown much interest in you outside of class. “Plus, that was months ago.”

He fixes his glasses and tilts his head to the side.

“Yeah? And what type of guys do you like now?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die down in your throat. Not assholes, you could say. He’s sparked your curiosity, though — what type of guys do you like now? Because you know for a fact that you’re done with assholes, which is why you’ve been trying your hardest to classify Wonwoo as one up until now.

“I–”

You’re saved from answering his question by your professor, who’s successfully hung up on his wife and is now announcing that class is over.

A sigh of relief escapes past your lips — another thing that doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo, but he doesn’t push. He simply gathers his stuff, his pen that you borrowed included, and slings his bag over his shoulder. You smile at him, softly, a little hesitantly, because it feels right to do so.

His glasses rest at the tip of his nose as he stands up and says, “See you around, Y/N.”

Then, he walks off and you no longer fight the smile that makes its way to your face.

—

“Okay, so I think we all know why this meeting is being held.”

This is the first thing Soonyoung says as he sits down by the round table in the cafeteria, latte almost spilling out of his cup. You and Minjeong perch up in curiosity, and she puts her phone away in favor of commenting Soonyoung’s poor word choices.

“Meeting? It’s our lunch break, dude.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes at Minjeong who snickers. “This lunch break is being held because–”

“–Because we need to eat?” you raise a brow.

“Y/N, you are literally in no position to act all smart right now. It’s you that we need to talk about.”

“Me?”

You look to Minjeong, but she only shrugs, meaning that this is a Soonyoung thing. You try racking your brain to find what the hell he might want to discuss, but nothing comes to you. Not even when Soonyoung offers you one of his signature smirks that signalize he’s up to no good.

“You, and hot nerd Jeon Wonwoo.”

Your mouth falls open in genuine shock. “Wonwoo?”

“Did you just call him ‘hot nerd’?” Minjeong slaps her hand over her mouth as she laughs, but stops when she sees you glaring at her. “Damn, okay, someone’s defensive.”

“Yes, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung leans over the table, hands together on the table like some sort of Hollywood detective. “What’s the deal with you and him?”

“What deal?” you look to the side for some help, but all Minjeong offers you is a smirk. She’s enjoying this a little too much for your liking. “Why are you looking at me like that? There’s no deal. We don’t get along, that’s all.”

“You sure looked like you got along yesterday,” Soonyoung giggles like a little schoolgirl, and you feel your face heating up. Of course he noticed, even though you barely talked with Wonwoo for three minutes. “Also, have you seen how he looks at you?”

“Like he wants to kill me?”

“Like he wants to kiss you. You’re mistaking passion for hate, babe. Or maybe you’re just pretending, because there’s no way you’re not seeing how cute you are together.”

“Me and Wonwoo?” you ask again, incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no way.”

“You have to admit, he’s pretty hot,” Minjeong cuts in. “Plus, you guys have, like, undeniable chemistry.”

“The only chemistry me and him share is the class. Which already sucks enough.”

“You know what they say, denial is a river in egypt.”

“Nobody says that, Minjeong,” you glare at her, deciding that it’s better to get out of here before you start doubting yourself. “Anyway, I gotta go to class, so get those Wonwoo delusions out of your heads, okay? Because that’s what this is — delusion.”

“Funny you had to clarify that.”

“Just because you’re insufferable,” you send them a painfully fake smile and grab your things so you can walk away, almost missing the words Soonyoung mutters under his breath.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

—

Usually, you can’t be found in the university’s backyard ripping your hair, but usually, you also don’t fail your chemistry exams.

You might be acting a tad bit dramatic, running out of class and sitting down on the grass with your back pressed against the stone cold wall to cool off, but that’s something to worry about later. Right now you’re just focused on feeling sorry for yourself. Which you are. To a very high degree.

“Are you okay?”

You jump at the sudden intrusion to your self-wallowing, turning around only to be met with a familiar face. His glasses are high up on his nose and his hair is neat, smile lines nowhere to be seen.

“Wonwoo?” you ask, a bit embarrassed that he’s seeing you in this state, especially when he looks so put together. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I read here every free period,” he says, frowning. “It’s you that should be in class right now.”

“Do you have my schedule memorized or something?” you look at him accusingly, pulling your legs closer to your chest for comfort. “Anyway, I’m just sitting here.”

Wonwoo’s silent for a moment, pondering on what to do, and then he takes a step in your direction. You don’t run away or protest, so he takes another one and another one until he’s close enough to sink down on the grass next to you.

“You look more like you’re drowning in sadness.”

“Yeah, well, I failed an exam, so,” you say and hand him the paper your hands gripped just a moment ago — your test with every mistake highlighted in red. The whole sheet might’ve just been red at this point, you think.

He examines it, brows furrowed, then hands it back. “Chemistry? I thought you were good at that, though.”

Your heart falters in embarrassment.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. That’s why I’m fucking sad.”

You don’t mean for it to sound so angry, but it comes out harsh and bitter. It’s nothing like Wonwoo’s used to hearing you speak. And what comes after shocks him even more — the tears that well up in your eyes and then fall, he can see them even as you turn away from him, perhaps in fear of judgement.

“Wait,” he says, a little dumbfounded. “Are you crying?”

It’s a stupid question, but his tone isn’t judging. Still, it doesn't ease anything — you feel like you’re about to explode. And what’s worse is that he’s here, Jeon Wonwoo, of all people, watching you cry over something so miniscule that he probably can’t even relate to. You’re not sure why it bothers you so much that he’s seeing you in this state, but it does, it really does bother you, so much you feel like you might die.

“Yes, I’m crying, Wonwoo,” you say, wiping your cheeks to your best ability. “Jesus christ. I did badly on a test, so I already feel like shit, and then you always have to come up to me with those stupid comments of yours.”

He blinks in surprise from behind his glasses, and even through your bitterness, you think to yourself that he looks cute like that — confused, for the very first time. At least it’s the very first time you are seeing him like this. But, to be fair, this is his very first time seeing you like this, too.

“I thought you liked it when I'm mean to you, though,” he says finally, and you look at him in disbelief.

“Wonwoo, are you seriously just here to imply I have a degradation kink?”

He remains silent for a minute, hesitating.

“Great.”

You laugh through the tears that have now stopped falling, and Wonwoo exhales in something that resembles relief. His gaze is still set on you, unrelenting, like he’s still trying to put together the puzzle. Does he want to leave?

A part of you hopes he won’t. Because despite that it’s a bit embarrassing, you could use someone to talk to right now. Even if it’s just so you can get your frustration out somehow.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he starts, choosing his words carefully. “I didn't mean it like that. I never do.”

You meet his gaze – soft eyes that remain otherwise unreadable – and let out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You kick one of the stones in front of you, and watch it bounce a couple of times before it settles a little further away. Wonwoo doesn’t leave, even though you’re giving no signs of continuing the conversation. He just sits there, shoulder a centimeter or two from yours, and listens to both your breaths. Both uneven — his is nervous, while yours is upset.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says finally, catching you off guard just enough for you to turn in his direction again. “If I ever cross the line, tell me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He bites his lip awkwardly as you feel your heart dropping to your stomach. It’s silent for a while, the back of your throat burning — threatening that you might start crying again if you say something now.

He pushes his glasses further up his nose, and that’s when you decide to take the leap. Leap meaning that you lean forward to engulf him in a hug, your head coming to rest on his shoulder.

It catches him off guard, you can tell. His muscles tense, breath caught up in his throat and your own heart beats so fast you think you might die. But it feels nice, hugging him. And it feels even nicer when he wraps his arms around you, too, albeit hesitantly.

You stay like that, bathing in his scent – peach and jasmine with a hint of something you can’t quite identify – and somehow, you feel at peace. The test is still at the back of your head, obviously, bugging you, but it’s faint compared to Wonwoo and his hand that begins to slowly stroke your hair.

“Thank you.”

The words are whispered into the crook of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

They’re so quiet he barely hears them, might’ve mistaken them for a hiccup hadn’t he paid complete attention, but he is. He is paying attention. To how your muscles loosen up in his arms and there are no longer tears soaking through his shirt; how his own heart beats a little faster than usual; how he’s so painfully aware of the fact that talking to you only makes him like you more.

More meaning that he’s afraid he might be advancing from the useless crush he’d developed watching you argue with him during class. Advancing into uncharted territory that he’s never even intended exploring. Though he supposes he sabotaged himself by approaching you today.

“It’s nothing.”

But it’s a lie. It is something — the butterflies in your stomach or the warmth spreading across Wonwoo’s chest. Whatever you want to regard it as, it is something.

And that something settles in the very depths of your mind and his mind alike.

—

When Soonyoung announces that he’s bringing Wonwoo to come study with you and Minjeong in the library, your first instinct is to tell him you’re not coming.

Obviously, you’re embarrassed. And scared. And a million other things you can’t even begin to describe with words. He saw you crying, after all. Jeon Wonwoo, top of the class, saw you crying over a bad grade. It really doesn’t get much worse than that.

Still, you go. Mostly because you know staying at the dorm would spark questions from your nosy friends, but also because you don’t want Wonwoo thinking you’re avoiding him. Or else he’s going to think you care — which, essentially, you do. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“Do you think Wonwoo will laugh at me if I get the questions wrong?” Minjeong asks as you stand outside the door to the library, her hand on the handle.

“No,” you say. “He’s not like that.”

She opens the door, and you walk inside, met with the smell of books. Soonyoung and Wonwoo are sitting by the chess boards, talking, and you feel something turn in your stomach. Is it too late to leave now? Judging by Minjeong’s worried face, she isn’t so keen on being here either. Maybe you could both just go home.

Yet when she bites her lip and asks, “Are you sure?”, you can’t bring yourself to lie just so you won’t have to face him.

“Yeah. You should ask him to teach you if you don’t understand something, you know. Better to feel a little embarrassed than to fail an exam.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Just as she says this, Soonyoung catches your gaze and waves eagerly, urging you and Minjeong to come closer. He whispers something to Wonwoo, and he, too, turns to smile in your direction.

“Guess there’s no backing out now,” Minjeong giggles and you nod your head. There really isn’t.

The two of you make your way to the table where the boys are sitting and pick your chairs. Minjeong’s quick to sit next to Soonyoung, so you’re left with no other option but to plop down on the chair closest to Wonwoo. Normally, that would’ve only mildly annoyed you, but now, three days after he saw you bawling your eyes out, you can feel your heartbeat speed up vastly.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says and you almost jump. You’re not sure why, but you hadn’t expected him to speak to you first.

“Hi,” you reply and try smiling at him. Thankfully, he smiles, too. “What are you guys studying?”

“Chemistry,” he says, and upon seeing you wince, he’s quick to add, “‘Cause Soonyoung’s struggling with it. He asked me to teach him.”

You have to bite back a smile at his worried tone. “Ah, I see.”

He fixes his glasses, and clears his throat.

“It’s a really tricky subject, though, so I understand why you– uh, he, finds it troublesome.”

“Right,” you nod your head with a giggle, and you can almost feel Soonyoung’s stare burning into your side. It’s fine, though, because now, Wonwoo looks the slightest bit more relaxed.

You pull out your notebooks and textbook along with a coffee you’d made earlier, and when Wonwoo says your notes look pretty, you can’t help but grin. You kind of wish he weren’t so nice to you, but it doesn’t make you feel awkward, so you suppose you don’t have much room to complain.

It’s probably just reality catching up to you that’s making you nervous — the fact that he’s not so argumentative outside of class, and that you definitely felt something pull at the very bottom of your heart that day you failed the exam. That, and how the feeling isn’t giving any signs of leaving soon.

You let those thoughts wander as you start making notes, and soon enough, even Soonyoung goes quiet, occupied by his own stuff. It stays like that for a while, and at some point, Wonwoo’s knee bumps into yours. Warmth spreads all across you and you look at him.

“Sorry,” he whispers apologetically, retracting his leg, and the warmth subsides. In return you send him a smile in which you hope he can’t glimpse your slight – and unsettling – disappointment.

“It’s okay.”

And then it’s silent again, your body painfully aware of the fact that if you lean your leg a bit to the right you’ll touch Wonwoo. It’s not like you want to touch him, at least you don’t think you do, but the awareness is slightly nerve-wracking for some unknown reason. Everything about him is.

“Wonwoo,” Minjeong says, breaking the silence, making both his and your heads shoot up to look at her. “Y/N told me you could help me if I asked, so… I was wondering if you could explain biomolecules to me.”

“Of course.”

A quick smile flashes in your direction and then he’s leaning over the table to help Minjeong. His fingers follow the illustrations in her textbook and he starts talking — something about structure, you think. You listen intently, and it makes sense even though you’ve barely started the chapter, but you can’t bring yourself to take notes of what he’s saying. Can’t bring yourself to take your eyes off of him.

You wonder silently if he always was this handsome. You try to think of the times you spoke to him in class before, but it’s hard to recall his face in any other form than what your eyes meet now — focused gaze, lips moving to the rhythm of his voice. His glasses are slowly sliding down his nose, and you feel an immeasurable urge to push them up, but he beats you to it.

“Basically, they’re essential for cell division to happen,” he says, and you lean forward to look at the picture he’s pointing to.

Your shoulder bumps into his and he turns to the side. You notice, but don’t react in fear that you’ll just end up giggling like a schoolgirl. Instead, you pretend to read some of the text in the book.

Wonwoo picks up where he left off, voice a little hoarser than before, but you don’t move. Neither does he.

“Can you say that again?” you ask after he says something you don’t understand.

He repeats with his head turned in your direction, and your eyes drift down to his lips. You don’t want them to, it just happens, your stomach tying into a tight knot. You’re almost entirely sure nobody is supposed to look this hot while talking about biomolecules. Or was it morphogenesis? You honestly don’t know.

You don’t know why you feel like this with him of all people. Truly, there could be a lot of factors playing into it. The fact that he’s a smooth talker; the fact that he’s both intelligent and knowledgeable; the fact that you’ve grown to know him — what makes his blood boil and what makes him chuckle; the fact that he’s a constant in a sea of variables.

Maybe that last point especially. That even when everything else goes to hell, the moment you step into social anthropology class, he’s always there. Always willing to entertain you with, albeit sometimes pointless, banter.

You don’t even know what this is, though. Feeling your head spin when you look at him, having mini heart attacks when he says your name — are these the signs of you going insane? It could very well be that, you think. Insanity feels like the right word to explain your state right now.

“Y/N,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You listening?”

Your eyes drift back to his own, and you swear you see a glimpse of amusement playing in his gaze when you mumble a quiet “Yeah.”

Suddenly very aware of Soonyoung and Minjeong’s presence, as well as Wonwoo’s burning stare, you stand up, dusting off your clothes.

“I just need some fresh air,” you offer as an explanation.

“Mind if I join?”

You look at Wonwoo in disbelief as he asks the question. What the fuck? You don’t mind – at least in the sense that implies you don’t like his company – but it’s the same issue again; he makes you nervous. Goodbye to going for a relaxing walk, you suppose. And goodbye to whatever left there is of your sanity.

After what seems like hours of overthinking, you decide to get your shit together and send him a smile paired with a nod. Minjeong raises a brow in your direction, but doesn’t inquire further and internally you thank her for that. You’re not sure what you would’ve told her if she asked.

You and Wonwoo leave the library together, shoulders close together just like when you were sitting, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Everything okay?” he asks as you leave the building. “You seem a little dazed.”

The air is still cold, though winter is nearing its end and spring is slipping through the cracks. You pull your jacket closer to your body in hopes of both warming yourself up and slowing down your heartbeat, but it only fulfills one of those wishes, leaving you to deal with the latter yourself.

“I’m alright,” you respond with a soft smile. “Thank you for helping Minjeong, by the way. You’re a great teacher.”

Wonwoo’s smile lines shyly make an appearance. “Thanks. I’ve been thinking about becoming a real one, actually.”

You stop walking and turn your head in disbelief. Somehow, you didn’t expect that answer. Wonwoo was always a diligent student, but now that you come to think of it, he never really talked about his plans for the future, or what he wanted to do with his degree in chemical engineering.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” his cheeks redden ever so slightly. “Teaching chemistry honestly doesn’t sound that bad.”

You take a moment to think it through — him, in a suit and those glasses that fall down his nose, teaching kids about biomolecules. The idea is foreign, and yet, it fits just right.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Professor Jeon, huh? It would suit you.”

He lets out a snort of laughter that sounds nothing like the small chuckles you’d hear from him during class. But it sounds nice, this loud laughter and you bathe in it for as long as it lasts. You’re starting to enjoy this whole ‘being kind to each other’ thing. Suits you better than yelling about something stupid in class. It suits him better, too.

Content with everything, you begin walking again and he follows suit. The grass is a little wet from yesterday’s rain and outgrown as it is, it tickles your ankles. It might’ve been mildly annoying if you weren’t so stupidly happy for whatever reason.

Whatever reason being Wonwoo, of course. You might be bad at chemistry, but you like to think you’re not dumb — at least not in an oblivious way. It’s become quite obvious, you think, that you like him.

The thought partly makes you want to kick your feet in the air and partly, it makes you want to rip your hair out. You like Wonwoo. It’s something so unexpected it makes you feel very bare as you stand there on the grass outside of your university, with your cold hands buried in the pockets of your jacket and Wonwoo’s eyes glimmering in the faint sunlight.

You like him. God, it feels weird to admit.

“About that day…” Wonwoo’s voice brings you back to reality, and you take a second to register what he’s saying.

“I freaked you out, didn’t I?” you ask.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he looks away and sighs softly, only to look directly at you the next second. “I just wanted to make sure you remember that one mistake doesn’t make you a failure. I should’ve said it earlier, but that day I was a bit… taken aback, I suppose. Not by the crying, obviously, but by the whole situation. And you.”

“Me,” you repeat, tasting the word on your tongue. Your heart starts beating a little faster, despite your best efforts at staying calm. He’s just talking after all; it’s not like this is some sort of love confession.

“Not in a bad way. Just in a new way,” he’s quick to assure you and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“New. You make it sound so pretty.”

You laugh a bit, looking down on your hands. It. Does he even know what you mean? Does he know you’re talking about the fact that you’re slowly but surely starting to fall in love with him? Or is he just talking about seeing you vulnerable the other day?

“What would you call it?” he asks and you can’t stop your gaze from drifting back to him.

“I don’t know, confusing? And kind of insane.”

You swear his eyes drop to your lips for a mere second at that. He doesn’t say anything, just walks by you in silence, and it drives you crazy. You wish he’d say something – anything – just so you’d know if you’re even on the same page, but you don’t rush him.

Finally, he smiles at you.

“If insanity is losing control, then yes, I suppose I’m going insane. But it doesn’t feel all that insane to me.”

His eyes crinkle, soft streaks of sun painted across his face and you almost sigh. In delight, relief, or maybe fear, you’re not sure, but it’s those words, you think, that will linger. Those are the types of words to never abandon your mind, you’re sure of it.

“Did you rehearse this in front of the mirror or something?” you scoff at him, heart heavy in your chest.

He only laughs, and the sound stays in the air for a long time after you’ve left.

—

To say you were shocked to see Jeon Wonwoo sitting outside of his dorm with his head in his hands would be a major understatement.

You had grown closer to him in the past weeks — walking shoulder to shoulder around campus; him helping you with your homework — it all would’ve seemed unlikely had someone proposed the idea to you a month prior, but now, you had grown to truly enjoy his company. And he enjoyed yours, too.

In some ways, it stayed normal.

Comments and half-mean, half-endearing remarks remained untouched; what didn’t was your heart. It seems to be working against you at all times, beating too quickly when Wonwoo unexpectedly smiled in your direction, and dropping down to your stomach in fear whenever you saw him tippling over in emotion, only for the feeling to fade to the sound of his laugh.

This time, though, it doesn’t fade, only intensifies as you hear him curse under his breath.

“Wonwoo?” you try, and his shoulders tense ever so slightly.

You watch as he sighs, rubbing his eyes, then sits up straight, back against the wall. He doesn’t respond, even as his eyes, frail as ever, look into yours. They’re a bit darker than usual, and his lashes flutter as he blinks up at you.

There’s no one in the hallway, as if this part of the school emptied just to grant you a moment of privacy; a deciding moment, something in your stomach tells you.

“What’s happened?” you ask softly, quietly, unsure of what else to do with this obviously unhappy Jeon Wonwoo that’s sitting on the ground in front of you.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles in response, leaning on his arms to stand up. “Just some school stuff.”

The corners of his mouth lift in a small smile, but you call his bullshit. You don’t necessarily doubt the genuinity of his smile, but the way he said it makes you think there is something that happened.

Taking a step in his direction, you nudge him with your elbow.

“What, the golden boy failed a test for the first time in his life?”

His eyes change at that — soft crinkles appearing at the very edges of them. His shoulders relax, too, and though it’s barely visible, you see it clearly. The air feels a lot lighter when he tongues his cheek and nudges you back.

“You sure run your mouth a lot, Y/N,” he grins and you feel butterflies flapping around in the very pits of your stomach. Then the smile fades to be replaced with a faux scolding look as he says, “I suggest you stop.”

You move to stand right in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. He’s taller, and you have to tilt your chin to look him right in the eyes as you giggle with a hint of playfulness in your gaze.

“Or what?”

He sees the smile playing on your face, the giddiness in your tone, and his heart bangs loudly against his chest. You look gorgeous today — well, that’s nothing new but it never ceases to amaze him how you can look prettier for each day that goes by.

Is this it? Is this when he’s supposed to make a move, like Soonyoung told him to? What does even ‘make a move’ mean, exactly?

He supposes it varies — just like the value of variables in the equations he solves so often.

Then how come he can’t solve this one?

You’re still standing there, looking at him without a care in the world, and he thinks that he’d never forgive himself if he screwed this up. At the same time, it doesn’t seem like you’re ready to run away from him, and so perhaps making a move doesn’t sound so stupid right now.

“Or,” he starts, and lets his eyes glide down to your lips for a moment to test the waters. You don’t scream in fear, and he takes it as a good sign. “I’m gonna have to make you.”

You giggle. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, big boy?”

He feels his stomach turning upside down, squeezed by some invisible force and he has to remind himself to breathe. Is he really going through with this? Don’t start something you can’t end, Soonyoung would probably tell him. For once listening to his advice seems reasonable.

“Like this.”

And before he can even think of backing out, he brings the palms of his hands to cup your face and leans down, placing his lips against yours.

Taken aback, you let out a startled noise, eyes growing wide. He hesitates upon seeing your reaction, about to pull away when you finally kiss him back, tongue swiping over his lower lip ever so slightly.

A groan. Then, he’s bringing his hand to the back of your head and pulling you towards him, kissing you until your head starts to spin, and kissing you through that, too.

Your arms hold onto his shoulders for support, cheek leaning into his touch. Your noses touch clumsily; teeth clash when you open your mouth to let him explore it. Still, it feels like heaven and you can’t bring yourself to pull away for a breath.

Wonwoo, though, the more sensible one of you two, pulls back after a while, a smile on his lips and breath ragged.

You look at him — waiting for him to pick up where he left off, but he doesn’t move.

“That’s it?” you ask, and for a brief moment, all color drains from Wonwoo’s face. Did you not like it? Did he do something wrong?

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just going to leave me hanging like that?”

Your lip pulled between your teeth, you look at home expectantly, heart still hammering against your ribs. Truly, it’s not just about wanting more – though that plays a part in it, too – it’s also about whether this was a one-time-thing.

“Was it not enough for you?” he asks, tilting his head to the side after he’s calmed his racing heart.

“Considering I’ve been waiting for this, like, a month,” you say. “not really, no.”

He smiles down on you — that same smile that makes you weak in the knees, and you know there’s no turning back now. Not that there ever was.

“I think you’re a bit greedy,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver in anticipation. “I’ve been waiting for half a year, and yet, I still have some self control left.”

“I never had any in the first place.”

And with that, you pull him close for another kiss.

He doesn’t protest, opening his mouth and sucking on your tongue. His hands move down to your waist this time, pulling your body flush against his. You’ve never experienced being in such close proximity with him, and yet, you don’t feel all that nervous. It all slips away with his soft touches.

Your hands in his hair — it feels foreign, but he likes that feeling, gets drunk on it. But it’s some kind of reversed intoxication; he doesn’t feel faint; if anything, he’s feeling more sober than ever before as he bathes in your taste, your scent, you. This must be what love feels like, he thinks. This must be it, or else he’s certain he’ll never know love. If this isn’t it, he doesn’t want to know love.

He hopes you’re at least feeling a fraction of what he’s feeling as he pushes you gently against the wall, hands roaming your body. You do the same, holding onto him like he’s your lifeline, tugging at the strands of hair available to you.

So caught up in this feeling of bliss, you don’t even notice how you’re not alone with Wonwoo anymore until you hear laughter from a group of bypassing students.

“Get a room,” someone says and you pull away from Wonwoo immediately, face hot with embarrassment.

He doesn’t appear shaken, though — rather, you glimpse the shadow of a smile playing on his lips as he urges the students to leave. Just as you’re about to ask what he’s smiling about, his fingers close around your wrist and he pulls you along the hallway. He’s all rushed steps until you reach the nearest classroom that turns out to be empty, and he walks inside, dragging you with him.

Upon closing the door behind him, Wonwoo drags you into his chest. You look up at him, his inquiring gaze that asks for permission, and smile.

“Are you sure?” he asks and your grin turns teasing.

“Sure about what, Woo?”

He tongues his cheek, unsure of what to say. You’re just plain teasing him – that much is obvious – so he supposes he can give the same energy back.

“Sure that you want me to fuck you.”

You’re taken aback, though perhaps you shouldn’t be, considering how you set yourself up for this with your question. Still, your breath catches in your throat and your hand holds onto one of the nearby desks for stability as you face him. Wonwoo looks different now, to some extent; maybe it’s the lighting that gives his eyes a different glow, or maybe it’s how the air has suddenly become swollen with tension.

Whatever the cause, it excites you to no end, the way he’s looking at you when you take his hand in yours. Like you’re the only thing that matters.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

At that, he pulls you impossibly closer. He takes off his glasses in a manner that you in a drunken state would’ve most likely called seductive, and throws them away somewhere you can’t see, too busy kissing him back when his lips crash into yours for the nth time today. He kisses you so hard it knocks the breath out of your lungs, and all thoughts out of your brain.

Mouth open, you let his tongue explore it and simultaneously, you allow him to walk you further into the classroom, until the back of your thighs hit one of the desks. Standing between your legs, he pushes your shirt up so his fingers can graze the bare skin underneath, and you sigh in content.

Before you know it, he’s pulling away to peel off your shirt and bra, leaving you bare in front of him.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours again.

You smile into the kiss, goosebumps spreading over your skin with the touches of his fingers that glide further up your thigh, until they slip under your skirt. Knuckles running over your soaked panties, he bites your lip and you let out a delighted moan.

“You’re so wet,” he comments as he slips a finger under your panties, running it through your folds. You can already feel another flood of arousal approaching just because of his words. “Won’t even need to prep you, huh?”

You desperately shake your head no, and he chuckles.

He lays his palm flat against your clit and you squirm until he retracts it. Playfulness in his gaze, he smears your arousal all over your cunt, ignoring your whines. This takes him at least half a minute before he finally – upon hearing you whimper his name in a way that makes his pants a whole lot tighter all of a sudden – gives in and slides one of his fingers into your pussy.

You throw your head back with a whimper, holding onto his shoulder as he starts pumping it in and out of you, noises caused by the movement filling the air.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as he adds another one, your cunt tightening around his digits endlessly.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder which is an immense contrast to how he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that one spot that makes your toes curl. He plunges his digits in and out of your hole as his thumb circles your clit, until you’re moaning loudly — despite how little time has really passed.

It’s in utter shock that you watch him retract his hand completely, sucking the arousal from his fingers with a smile.

“Wha–” is all you manage to say before he flips you over, bending you over the desk.

You’re painfully aware of how bare you are in front of him — your naked cunt on display, because your skirt doesn’t do much to cover anything at all, and your tits pressed against the wood of the desk. Plus the fact that the locked door won’t do much good if someone is to have class in this room next period. Which would be in about thirty minutes.

Not that you care. Or, essentially, you do care, but now it doesn’t really matter — besides, you’re certain that Wonwoo would’ve managed to come up with some sort of excuse had you been forced to open the door for some frustrated professor.

Amidst your thoughts, you almost fail to hear the sound of Wonwoo unclasping his belt. Almost. But when you do hear it, something turns pleasantly in your stomach.

“You gonna be good for me and stay quiet?” Wonwoo asks and you feel his hands move to hold your hips, cock positioned at your entrance.

You mumble something in affirmation, something you’re not even sure you can hear yourself, and spread your legs to urge him on. You feel his cock prod at your soaked cunt, run through your folds languidly; again and again, until you’re whining his name in protest.

He only chuckles at your behavior, and asks, albeit teasingly, “What did you say?”

Gathering your thoughts, you try your best to ignore the way he’s dragging his dick over your pussy, occasionally rubbing over your clit.

“Yes, I’ll be good for you, Wonwoo.”

Pleased with this response, he finally enters you — cock stretching you open and making you cry out, holding onto the desk for support. He’s big, you realize, tears prodding at your eyes as he bottoms out.

“Yeah? Gonna be my good girl?”

You nod and nod, fingers turning white from how you’re gripping the wooden desk once he starts moving — in languid strokes, he manages to turn your moans louder and louder.

His hands hold onto your hips, pushing them against him so you’re further impaled on his cock with each thrust, and you swear you feel him all the way in your stomach. It’s a good feeling, one you can barely register fully with the way your mind’s gone hazy.

You hardly notice it when one of his hands lets go of your hips and comes up to your lips, fingers tapping at your chin as a signal to open your mouth. When you do, he slips two digits inside and you suck on them obediently, tightening around his cock.

Wonwoo smiles.

“Thought I told you to be quiet, baby.”

In all honesty, he loves the nosies you’re making, but he can’t risk someone starting to bang on the door before he’s got you falling apart completely. Besides, the sight of you sucking on his fingers is just as pleasing; just as effective in making his cock twitch in your cunt.

Your walls suck him in perfectly, the sound of him gliding in and out of your pussy loud in the empty classroom. His thrusts grow gradually harder; the desk starts moving in rhythm with them, and you can’t help letting out moans and whimpers that his digits in your mouth do a poor job of concealing.

He realizes this, and decides on removing his fingers so they can grab at your hair instead, pulling your back closer to his chest. Your tits bounce with his movements, and he plays with them briefly, groaning as your pussy clamps down on him especially hard at that, but then his hand moves between your legs to tend to your clit.

He rubs it in circles, granting you an occasional pinch or slap that makes you cry out, and you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter and tighter.

“Feels so good, Wonwoo,” you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks as his fingers abuse your swollen clit.

“I know, baby.”

Barely coherent, you beg him not to stop, and he wonders whatever even prompted you to think that he might want to stop. He only fucks into you harder, hand on your hips to steady the thrusts that bring you closer and closer to coming.

“Wonwoo,” you say. “So close.”

“Yeah? Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come all over my cock like a slut?”

You nod, though he probably doesn't see, and he pulls you even closer, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sight in front of him. And to think he could’ve had this earlier had he taken the chance. You in the shortest skirt he’s ever seen, moaning his name like you don’t care if anyone hears — he honestly thinks he might be in heaven.

“Good girl,” he groans, and that’s what sends you over the edge, your pussy clamping down on his cock as you reach your orgasm. “Good fucking girl.”

He comes less than five seconds later, buried deep inside of you as his cum coats your walls. You whimper at the overstimulation of his last thrusts, collapsing on top of the desk when he pulls out.

He’s careful not to hurt you, but you still wince slightly, which prompts him to ask you if you’re okay.

“Never better,” you reply, and as soon as you say it, you realize it’s true.

Wonwoo smiles. He helps you clean up – repeatedly apologizing that he’s wiping you clean with the paper by the classroom sink, even though you tell him it’s fine – and puts his glasses on again. It kind of makes you wish he’d never taken them off, but there’s no way you’re telling him that. Your opinion about his beauty is something you’ll keep to yourself for now.

You get ready to leave just as someone knocks on the door, and Wonwoo opens it for a very flustered professor that tells you he’s sorry for interrupting. Wonwoo tries telling him it’s not like that – though it definitely is like that, and the blush coating his cheeks does nothing to hide it – and finally, you’re in the hallway, free.

“Poor guy,” you comment, a smile playing on your lips.

Wonwoo sighs. “Tell me about it. And here I was, thinking we’d gotten lucky.”

“I think we did get lucky, though.”

You say this without thinking it through, but from the way Wonwoo’s eyes light up, you’re glad you didn’t.

Suddenly, the doors to all classrooms in the hallway open and out come tired students, marking the start of the next period. Which you’re supposed to spend in biology.

You sigh, and Wonwoo seems to get it, because he tells you to leave for class.

“By the way, Y/N,” Wonwoo says just as you’re about to leave. Something in his gaze tells you this isn’t just a ‘by the way’ thing. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m really in love with you. And I’d like you to be my girlfriend.”

“Well, you’re in luck, mister,” you kiss his jaw with a grin. “Because it so happens that I’m in love with you, too. And I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

TAGLIST: @just-here-to-read-01 @syn-hhj @nikkell @dollyji

#wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #wonwoo x reader

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