#once in a dream in seoul

[crescentmoonlikeyoungjae]

that’s gyeomie’s hand. also him holding the ars mic🤧

[wahgifs]

5 STAR DOME TOUR 2023 [UNVEIL 13] | HYUNJIN ☆

[noonecareslol]

࣪˖ ִ ೀ 𝐀 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Hwang In-ho x Fem! Reader

Summary: When the games aren’t in session, and In-ho is lonely, he finds himself in the first row at the ballet. Watching you. Suddenly he's falling in love.

TW: Channeling my love for older men. Injury. Reader lowkey gets sad for a sec. Age gap (reader is 25 In-ho is 49). Just FLUFF! In-ho learning how to love someone again. Quite literally head over heels for you. Allusions to masturbation. Size kink if you squint.

WC! 5k Part 2! -> here!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It is quite obvious that In-ho is an old soul.

He enjoys old films, old clothing, old theatre, and old music. The little jazz set that plays, “Fly Me To The Moon” is a cherished possession of his, along with his vintage whiskey decanter.

He wears a musky cologne he’d been gifted by his late wife, and his closet is lined with leather dress shoes and perfectly pressed slacks. His dimly lit room on the island is vastly similar to the one in his Seoul apartment, everything perfectly neat and clean.

Yes, In-ho is an old soul.

And in between the games, when he would return to Seoul, he’d find himself bored. Especially during the night. He’d miss his wife, the whispered hope of a promised future.

Often he would distract himself by putting his whiskey decanter to good use, pouring the aged whiskey into his glass over and over again. He would linger by his shelf full of movies he’d seen hundreds of times, tracing his fingers along the cases until he landed on a title. A small smile would play on his lips before popping it into the DVD player and taking a seat next to his beloved cat.

He would find himself mumbling the lines as the actors spoke them on screen, his hand absentmindedly petting his cat. When the movie is over, and the quiet resumes, he’d move to his bedroom.

He’d ensure his cat followed before changing into his expensive pajamas and climbing into the king-sized bed. His cat would join him and he would drift to sleep, dreaming of, well, nothing.

He would close his eyes and wake up without any dream having occupied his mind.

This routine became comfortable. Each night he would get home from whatever he’d been doing before, drink, watch a movie, play with his cat, and sleep without any dreams.

But this night, this night was different.

It was a cold night. And all In-ho wanted to do was drown in glasses of whiskey and watch “Dial ‘M’ For Murder” with his cat.

But as he walked past a line of people waiting to enter a theatre, a poster caught his attention. He blinked once, twice, before walking toward the lit-up frame.

A strikingly beautiful ballerina caught his attention first. She held her arms elegantly above her head, her leg pointed behind her, her other leg resting on pointe as she looked to the side. She was breathtaking.

The Seoul Ballet Company Presents: Swan Lake

Opening Night November 1st

Suddenly the thought of whiskey and Alfred Hitchcock left his mind as he joined the line. I mean, who would miss out on opening night?

Especially when the lead was so pretty.

“We have one ticket left in the front row.” The woman behind the ticket booth clicked her pen unenthusiastically as she watched In-ho pull his leather vintage wallet out of his coat pocket.

A grin rested plainly on his lips as he fiddled with his cash, “That’s perfect. How much?”

The woman slowly turned and punched a few numbers into her register before turning back to him, “80,000 won.” She clicked her pen again.

“Do you have change for 100,000?” He held the two 50,000 won in front of him, watching as she stared at him blankly.

She blinked once before snatching the bills from his hands, “Nope!” In-ho sighed. For someone so slow she took those bills awfully fast.

In-ho drew his lips into a thin line before taking the ticket and placing it in his wallet, “Thanks.”

“Yeah enjoy the show or, like, whatever.” The woman took out her phone and began to text as he walked away, obviously not giving a shit about her job.

But as In-ho walked through the double doors, his breath caught in his throat. The theatre certainly did not disappoint his love for old architecture.

The large barrel vaulted ceilings were beautifully ornamented and adorned with intricately painted designs. Gorgeous crown molding edged the ceiling and stretched to the floor. And a large crystal chandelier rested as the centerpiece, warmly lit and inviting.

In-ho took his seat, a smile evident on his lips as he sighed contently. However, he hoped his cat wasn’t too worried about his whereabouts. Maybe she could come along next time? She is a very sophisticated cat, after all.

As the chandelier and house lights began to dim, the crowd became quiet with anticipation and excitement. And it would be dishonest to say that In-ho wasn’t a little excited as well.

He looked to his left at the woman sitting next to him. She was a small elderly lady with a pair of glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Her eyes were filled with excitement as she scanned through the pamphlet, a wide smile plastered on her face.

She wore a vintage necklace around her neck, layered with pearls. In-ho smiled, it was nice to see someone who also had a knack for old taste.

The soft notes of Swan Lake began to play, and In-ho watched as the curtains opened, revealing the beautifully decorated stage. Large trees with hanging vines arched over the set, greenery and flowers blending into the painted backdrop.

A foggy mist flooded the stage as dancers began to move elegantly across. But the lead had yet to make an appearance.

In-ho watched rather impatiently, and failed to notice the woman next to him lean in, “Right now, the prince is going hunting with his crossbow. But he will find that the white swan has turned into a beautiful woman, and has fallen under a curse.” The old woman pointed slightly to the prince, her voice whispering just loud enough for him to hear.

His eyes trained on the prince as he danced with his crossbow, “Thank you. I must look confused.”

The old lady gave a small laugh, “I used to dance for this company, i’ll never miss an opportunity to explain the ballet.”

In-ho watches as she subtly mimics the prince's moves, her hands moving elegantly in front of her. Her eyes were closed, the sound of the music bringing emotion to her face.

Her eyes flick open as the music changes softly, “Look.” Her eyes lighting up as she nods slightly to the stage.

In-ho watches as you finally take the stage, fluttering your feet as you move elegantly toward the prince. Your hands held high above your head, moving gracefully as you bourrée.

He watched as your back muscles contracted, moving as if you had wings. His eyes trained down to your legs and to your pointe shoes, watching as you danced with ease.

Your white feathered skirt moved along with you, the bodice elegantly framing you perfectly. The feathered piece in your hair catches In-ho’s attention, causing him to study your face.

That poster was nothing compared to your beauty.

You held a soft look, but In-ho didn’t fail to notice the focus that caused your eyebrows to furrow slightly. Your movements were soft and graceful, your demeanor innocent and melancholic.

You were perfect as the white swan.

You were perfect.

He wondered if you were just as innocent as you portray yourself to be, “God, she’s beautiful.”

The elderly woman hummed in agreement as she watched In-ho’s gaze remain sharp on the white swan, an all-knowing smile spread across her lips.

As the ballet continued it seemed that the rest of the audience had disappeared. In-ho felt as if you were only dancing for him. No one else.

He swore you looked at him a few times, him being the focus point of your graceful turns.

And when you transitioned into the black swan, all thoughts in In-ho’s head became dark.

Oh, how he liked this side of you.

Your movements were sharp, determined, and seductive. And he found himself adjusting in his seat as his slacks became increasingly tight. You were so close to him. Just a few feet from his touch as you danced on stage. He could take you right now. He could fuck you, make you feel things you’ve never felt before.

And as you leaped on the stage, the white swan jumping to her death, In-ho felt a tear slip from his eye. You were magnificent.

The audience filed out of the theatre, fanning themselves with their pamphlets and discussing the ballet. You had received a standing ovation, and In-ho took pride in being the first one to stand and clap.

He had finally caught your attention. And when you locked eyes with him as you bowed, you felt your brain turn to mush.

He was handsome. Like, extremely handsome.

His face was perfectly chiseled. His eyes crinkled as he flashed a perfect smile, his hair slightly falling in front of his face and covering his dark eyes.

You didn’t blink once as you remained under his gaze, and it wasn’t until another dancer pulled you up that you realized you were bowing for far too long.

You avoided his eye contact as you walked off, embarrassed he had made you turn into putty just by his stare.

And as In-ho exited the theatre, he took his time lingering by the lamp post. He’d secretly hoped to see you leave.

He doesn’t know what he would say if he did see you. Maybe he would compliment you, or ask you a meaningless question. Or maybe, just maybe, he’d push you against the lamppost, and let his desire consume you.

He’d just wait a little bit longer.

10 minutes.

15 minutes.

30 minutes.

The woman from behind the ticket booth locked the door as she brought down the metal gate, “Excuse me, did the woman who danced as the white swan leave yet?”

She turned around smacking her gum, “Yeah. Why?” She sized him up, placing a hand on her hip as she cocked an eyebrow.

In-ho felt his face flush, “I was just going to compliment her.” He put his cold hands in the pockets of his coat, shifting his weight onto his other foot.

“Yeah well,” The woman smacks her gum as she walks up towards In-ho, handing him a flier, “They have open practice every Friday. Tickets are only 10,000 won.”

He took the flier from her hand, folding it and sliding it into his pocket, “Thanks.” She nodded her head and walked past him, slipping into her jacket.

In-ho turned and started his walk to his apartment only a block away. When he arrived, he heard the familiar sound of meowing by his front door.

And as he opened the door, he came face to face with his cat waiting on the couch, “I’m sorry Elisabeth, but I’m too tired for a movie tonight.”

She gave an annoyed meow before reluctantly following him into his room, hopping onto the pillow beside his. In-ho got dressed in his pajamas, ready for another dreamless night as he slipped into the sheets next to Elisabeth.

But this time, it wasn't dreamless.

In fact, he had dreamed a very vivid dream.

He had dreamt of you.

And as In-ho woke up the next morning, his hand immediately went to his nightstand, picking up the flier.

It seems that the pretty ballerina has stolen his heart.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"Plié! Ron de jambe, retiré! Good!" You held your arms in front of you, your right leg coming up at a bend, "Pas de chat, écarté! Don't rush it, Fiona!"

Your ballet teacher weaved between you and the other students, her tight bun sitting perfectly on her pointed head, "Développé, demi-pointe! No! Not pointe, demi pointe!"

Her thick French accent bellowed throughout the theatre, "Good y/n! Très bien!" A wide smile painted your lips as you continued your dance, your friend Fiona rolling her eyes at your praise. You giggled as you went into second, your arms outstretched to the side.

"Well done! Take a water break and stretch, we'll take five." You brought your hands to your knees, leaning over slightly as you caught your breath.

Fiona dramatically flopped on her back, a hand coming to her forehead as she breathed heavily, "I've died, she's killed me." You tossed her water bottle into her hand with a laugh as you sat next to her, your eyes scanning the theatre.

Familiar faces met your eyes. Elderly couples, former dancers, and little kids with their moms. Oh! And the man who you haven't stopped thinking about.

Wait.

You hit Fiona's shoulder hard, not taking your eyes off him, "Fiona. Fiona, look." She sat up, holding her shoulder as her eyes trailed to where you were subtly pointing.

"Oh, it's the hot dilf." Fiona took a drink from her bottle, watching as In-ho looked around while taking in the architecture.

You slapped her shoulder again, "Shut up! What if he hears you?" You get up from the ground, pulling Fiona up with you and tossing your water bottle back into your bag.

She followed suit, taking one last drink before tossing it in her own, "First off, stop hitting me. It's abuse." You rolled your eyes as you both took your spot by the barre, "Second, he's in the back corner of the theatre, he's not hearing shit. Except for our teacher's constant yelling."

You didn't respond, instead, you continued looking at him. His black turtle neck sweater hugged his biceps perfectly, and you didn't fail to notice his empty finger where a ring would sit.

"Okay! Lets continue! Tendu, plié! Ron de jambe, plié!"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It had been two months since In-ho first started spending his Fridays pining over you.

Each Friday, he would come home, change into an outfit he had dry-cleaned and pressed, feed Elisabeth, and head to the Theatre. He would take his spot in the far left corner, and watch as you danced and laughed with your friends.

He found himself looking forward to Fridays. Which is strange, because he's never looked forward to anything before. Well, besides the games. But he had been so focused on you, that he had fallen behind on his work. Something he'd never done before.

You plagued his mind.

He dreams of you. When he's asleep and awake. He'd find himself walking by the Theatre on other days when you were practicing, hoping to see a glimpse of you.

He found himself listening to Etta James and Nat King Cole more often than not. 'A Sunday Kind Of Love' and 'Unforgettable' filing his apartment as he cooked his dinners. 'My Fair Lady' and 'Gone With The Wind' replacing his classic mystery movies.

He even found himself stopping by flower boutiques, smelling the tulips and Orchids. He wonders what your favorite flower is. Perhaps it is Lilies, the flower that represents innocence and purity.

He wondered a lot if you were a virgin. Often imagining the feeling of your body under his large one late at night when he can't sleep, and when his hand finds itself under his pants.

You had him wrapped around your pretty little finger and you didn't even know it.

Vice Versa, you found yourself looking forward to Fridays as well.

It was the only day you could see the stranger who you had been thinking about constantly.

You liked his style, the way he carried himself with a confidence that intimidated you. His large frame towered over everyone, and he stood out from the crowd. He was perfect. It was as if god himself sculpted him with his own hands.

And oh my god.

You were down bad.

Fiona constantly teased you about it. Making fun of how you stopped wearing your loose cover-up, "Im just hot, that's all Fiona. It's warm in here." You lied. And Fiona was obviously aware of that.

You started offering to stay late with your teacher and help clean up, hoping to catch the stranger before he left. But your teacher always insisted you should go home and rest, and who were you to disobey her.

You've always been perfect. At school, at dance, at everything. When auditions came for Swan Lake, there was no question in anyone's mind about who would get the lead.

But since opening night, things have been slightly different. You often got distracted during practice, your eyes always finding the man in the back corner. You started falling out of your turns, forgetting to bring your pointe shoes, and, worse of all, you had been forgetting to point your toes.

And here you were. Walking to the center of the stage, ready to run through your variation in front of everyone. It was an easy variation, but the end was complicated. You had to do several pirouettes, which you have always been good at. But today you decided to test yourself.

You knew your teacher was becoming increasingly disappointed in you, it plagued your every thought. So, as you spun perfectly, you decided to see how many pirouettes you could perform.

17, 18, 19, 20.

Your leg is wobbling, but you choose to ignore it.

21, 22, 23-

You hear Fiona call your name as your foot slips out of pointe, twisting as you fall on top of it, "Oh my god!" The sickening sound of your ankle cracking causes your heart to drop. The stinging feeling of tears replaced by the overwhelming pain that was now shooting up your leg.

Everyone huddles around you as the teacher runs to call an ambulance, but Fiona kneels at your side, "I know this isn't the right time but, the dilf is running over here right now."

You close your eyes, trying to control your rapid breathing. You wished the stage would open around you and swallow you whole, just put you out of your misery.

In-ho jumps with ease onto the stage, his sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbow, "Move." He pushes past the dancers huddling over you and grabs your face.

Your eyes flick open at the feeling of warm hands pressed against your cheeks. Oh my god, he was holding your face. Your heart fluttered but you didn't notice, you were too worried about the fact that your ankle was bent the wrong way.

In-ho's hand softly brushes over your ankle, causing you to wince. At first, he's skeptical about touching you. Was it too fast? Too sudden? Too bold?

But he didn't have time to think it over as he put his strong arms under you, lifting you gently as he stood. Fiona watched with a smirk on her face as she saw shock fill your eyes, his biceps flexing as he pulled you close to his chest.

Without a word, In-ho steps down from the stage and carries you through the exit, "I have an ambulance coming!" Your teacher ran after him yelling, her typically neat bun somewhat loose and frizzy now.

In-ho motions to his pocket and Fiona responds, grabbing his car key and unlocking his Mercedez-benz, "It will take too long. I'll drive her."

For a split second, you catch his eye, and you could've sworn to god your pain disappeared for a moment. And if it were a different circumstance, In-ho would kiss you. He would kiss you right here with you in his arms.

But the shared look was short-lived as he very carefully sets you in the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt gently. Your ballet teacher leans down to the window, "Don't worry! Fiona can dance for you!"

Your heart shattered.

And tears began to flood. You ignored In-ho's words of reassurance as he took off, speeding to the hospital. The drive was quiet except for your soft cries. And In-ho wanted nothing more than to cradle you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

"Im sorry im getting your car dirty." You looked at the tear-stained headrest you laid against, wiping your sore eyes with the back of your hand.

In-ho cuts a car off as he turns, ignoring the beeps from the angry driver, "It's okay. I have another one." The subtle money brag wasn't missed by you. In-ho just wanted to impress you.

"What are you? Like a CEO or something?" You turned to face him, giving a pitiful sniffle as he gave another sharp turn.

He chuckled, and you felt your heart beat faster. Was it because of the adrenaline? Or was it because the man whom you've become obsessed with is quite literally acting like your night in shining armor, "Im... Im a game show host."

You nodded, an impressive smile growing on your face, "That's cool. Im y/n by the way."

He flashes a smile, the same smile from the night you first saw him, and a blush creeps up on your tear-stained cheeks, "You're sitting there, with a fucked up ankle, and you're making small talk?"

You suddenly feel embarrassed. He's just some random guy who happened to be in the right place at the right time, nothing more. "Sorry. Just trying to distract myself."

In-ho frowns. Did he say the wrong thing? His grip tightens on the steering wheel, "No! Don't be sorry. If I'm being honest, I've been dying to know your name."

His eyes flick to you before looking back in front of him, "Im Hwang In-ho." A small smile creeps onto his lips as he pulls to a stop in front of the ER.

"Well, Mr. Hwang, it's nice to meet you."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"Well, it looks like you have a fracture." You give a long exasperated sigh as the Doctor holds up the X-rays, "The fibula is fractured below the level of the syndesmosis, which is the joint between the tibia and fibula."

You look at In-ho, who, for some reason, seems more stressed than you do, "What's the healing process like? Will she need surgery?" Your head snapped to the doctor at the mention of surgery. Surgery for dancers is like a death sentence.

No. More. Dancing.

"Fractures like these are considered stable, meaning that they are unlikely to worsen with correct treatment and management. You'll just need to wear a boot for a while." The doctor noticed how your concerned look didn't falter, and gave a sigh before placing a hand on your shoulder, "You can still dance."

The breath you were holding escapes your lips as you feel a heavy weight fall off your shoulders, "Thank you so much." The doctor rubs your shoulder before leaving, instructing the nurse to fit you for a boot.

In-ho watches as you close your eyes, a smile resting on your face. He cocked his head, how could you be so beautiful in a moment like this? His eyes take a minute to trail down your body, taking you in, something he's grown fond of doing.

Your hair is a mess, your cheeks are red and tear-stained, your ankle looks like a snapped twig, and you're picking at your cuticles. But god.

You are perfect.

Just as beautiful now as you were months ago.

An unfamiliar feeling has taken over his chest ever since he saw you. A tightening, warm feeling that he hasn't felt in years. At first, he ignored it. Maybe it was just heartburn? But as it progressed, he got worried. The next thing you know a doctor is laughing in his face.

Calling it 'love'.

In-ho immediately left after he heard that, making sure to write a very passive-aggressive review on Yelp. What doctor diagnosed a patient with 'being in love'?

In-ho was not in love.

...

...

Right?

It wasn't until he watched 'Funny Face' that he realized the estranged doctor was correct. The moment Fred Astaire saw Aubrey Hepburn and was immediately captivated by her beauty, he knew it was true.

He didn't care that he was more than twenty years older than you, or that he had bigger things to worry about, all he cared about was you.

And that made him so confused.

You had managed to captivate his heart, soul, and body. And he felt like a teenager with his first crush all over again. So as he saw you look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, he couldn't help what happened next.

He stood from his chair, taking large steps towards your frame. You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him stand between your legs, careful not to hit your ankle.

His big hands reach down and grab your face, slamming your lips into his own. Your eyes grow wide, confusion flashing across your face before slowly giving in, pulling his head down lower.

His touch was gentle, the opposite of his kiss. His hands softly caressed your red cheeks, while his lips hungrily chased after your own.

You tugged at the baby hairs that rested on the back of his neck, desire and hunger feeding off you as he slipped his tongue into your pretty mouth. A low growl escaped his swollen lips, and you felt arousal begin to pool between your thighs.

You whine as he removes his hand from your face and steps back, crossing his arms. His gaze has always been intimidating. But now that he's seen you fall on your ass, cry, and melt under his touch all in one day, it is much more intimidating.

You've been vulnerable in front of him. Something you could never do before. But you didn't care if he saw your flaws, you were perfect to him.

He saw a future when he looked at you. He saw a family, something he had longed for many years ago. He saw hope, love, and promise.

He saw you.

Beautiful, perfect, irresistible you.

And as he looked at you, only one question entered his mind.

"Do you want to meet my cat?"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

a/n: chat. its 2 am. but i am DETERMINED to post this. i just love you guys sm mwah mwah. also, wasn't in a smut mood. still getting used to writing smut LMAO.

also random disclaimer: i have never done ballet. so if any terms are wrong or if my spelling is trash PLS LMK!

@bohemiandelilah @menabuser16 @verouys @speedymagazinewhispers @metalbaby2 @nellabear @marymun @orihime188 @nanascupid @fnl9zer @chasinghxran @crystalizia @auspicious-lilana @machipyun @cdej6 @namelesslosers

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ million dollar man ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x girlfriend!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place in an alternate ending for squid game where sang-woo wins instead of gi-hun! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ it had been over two weeks since you last heard from cho sang-woo. no calls, no texts, not even the smallest acknowledgment of your existence. the silence weighed on you, growing heavier with every passing day. sang-woo, your long-term boyfriend, the man you had imagined spending the rest of your life with, had seemingly vanished without explanation.

˚ ༘♡ he was everything you had dreamed of, handsome, intelligent, educated. in your eyes, he was near perfect. you had moved to south korea a year and a half ago. the two of you met only a month after your arrival in seoul. you were standing at a convenience store counter, struggling to buy an iced coffee before work. the cashier’s words blurred into a language barrier you couldn’t break through, leaving you flustered and embarrassed.

˚ ༘♡ then there he was. cho sang-woo, with his neatly pressed suit and square-rimmed glasses, stepping in to translate with a calm assurance that immediately put you at ease. he went further and insisted on paying for your coffee, brushing off your protests with a polite smile. “you can pay me back with your number,” he had said, his tone light but his warm gaze unwavering. you gave it to him without hesitation, your heart racing as he walked away with a casual, confident stride that lingered in your mind for days.

˚ ༘♡ what followed was akin to a fantasy. your first few dates were sweet and unassuming, dinners at cozy restaurants, walks through bustling markets, late-night phone calls that stretched into the early hours of the morning. before long, it became more than casual. he wasn’t simply a charming man in a suit, he was someone you trusted, someone you leaned on. yet, as your relationship deepened, so did the flaws.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo treated you well in many ways. he insisted on paying for meals, even when you protested. he offered to help with rent when he noticed you were stressed about expenses. his job at joy investments afforded him a lifestyle of financial stability, one that he willingly extended to you. however, beneath his polished exterior, there was an undeniable distance.

˚ ༘♡ it started small, little things that nagged at you but seemed too insignificant to bring up. his phone was always locked, the screen flashing dark whenever you glanced at it. he would leave suddenly, without warning, offering only vague explanations that never quite satisfied your curiosity. “work,” he would say, brushing off your questions as though they were irrelevant. and no matter how many times you pressed him for the truth, he never admitted anything.

˚ ༘♡ those moments of secrecy chipped away at your trust, leaving an uneasy ache in your chest. you told yourself it was nothing, that you were overthinking. but the fights that erupted when you brought it up told a different story. his calm facade would crack, and he would grow defensive, his words sharp and cutting. “don’t you trust me?” he had asked more than once, the accusation in his tone a slap in the face.

˚ ༘♡ despite the arguments, despite the unanswered questions, you loved him. you loved the way he smoothed a hand down your back when you were upset, the way his voice softened when he called you by name. you loved the rare instances of vulnerability he let slip, the heartfelt glimpses of the man beneath the polished exterior. you loved him enough to forgive, enough to overlook the secrets that cast shadows over your relationship.

˚ ༘♡ as you sat alone in your apartment, staring at your phone with an empty inbox mocking your worry. two weeks of silence was unbearable. the man you loved, the one who had promised to protect you, had left you with nothing but questions and a ache where his presence used to be.

˚ ༘♡ the doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet of your apartment as though it were a sharp blade. it wasn’t merely unusual, it was unsettling. who would come at this hour? you glanced at the clock on the wall, its glowing numbers reminding you that it was well past midnight. your stomach churned uneasily as you stood up, your fatigue from a long shift at the café clinging to you.

˚ ༘♡ working from sunrise to sunset every day had worn you thin, but you had refused sang-woo’s offers to help you financially. he had already done so much, given so generously, and the thought of taking more was crossing a line you couldn’t bring yourself to breach. it would be an abuse of his kindness.

˚ ༘♡ the hallway was dark as you approached the door, your bare feet silent on the cool floor. you hesitated before unlocking it, your hand hovering over the latch. “hello?” you called out cautiously as you cracked it open, peering into the dimly lit corridor.

˚ ༘♡ before you could register what was happening, a hard shove sent the door crashing into you, knocking you backward. you stumbled, barely managing to catch yourself against the wall. your heart leapt into your throat as the figure who had forced their way inside quickly shut the door behind them.

˚ ༘♡ your confusion turned to disbelief as the light from your apartment fell on their face. it was sang-woo.

˚ ༘♡ his chest heaved with each labored breath, his shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned at the collar, his dress pants scuffed and slightly torn. his glasses, the ones you always teased him about for making him look too serious, were nowhere to be seen. instead, his face bore the evidence of recent hardships, bruises, faint scars, and scabbed-over cuts that marred his formerly pristine appearance. even his hands, the ones you’d grown so used to seeing holding a pen or a glass of wine, were scratched and battered.

˚ ༘♡ he looked like he had aged years in the short time he had been gone.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you stammered, your voice unsteady with equal parts confusion and fear, “what the hell are you doing? it’s the middle of the night, and… why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

˚ ༘♡ he opened his mouth as if to respond, but the words didn’t come immediately. instead, he leaned against the door, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “i…” he started, his voice hoarse and raw, but he seemed unable to finish.

˚ ༘♡ without warning, he crossed the room in a single stride and pulled you into a tight embrace. his arms wrapped around you with a desperation that felt almost suffocating, his head burying into the crook of your neck as he clung to you.

˚ ༘♡ you stood unmoving, the shock of his sudden appearance warring with the affection of his touch. part of you was relieved beyond words to have him back, while another part was angry. angry at his disappearance, at the unanswered calls and texts, at the fear and doubt he had left you to wrestle with.

˚ ༘♡ “i missed you,” he murmured against your shoulder, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

˚ ༘♡ his words tugged at your heart, but they weren’t enough to quell the storm of questions brewing inside you. “sang-woo,” you said, your voice softer now but still laced with frustration, “what’s going on? where have you been? what happened to you?”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer right away, his grip tightening, as though the very act of holding onto you could keep him grounded. his breath was unstable, his chest rising and falling against yours in a way that betrayed the turmoil beneath his silence. the room felt oppressively quiet.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo!” you exclaimed, your voice sharp, desperate for clarity. the sound seemed to jolt him, his body stiffening before he reluctantly pulled back.

˚ ༘♡ his hands were shaking as he reached into his pocket, the movement clumsy and hurried. when he withdrew, he thrust a thick stack of cash into your arms, one hundred million won, neatly bound and unnervingly out of place in your modest apartment. the weight of the money startled you, as you stared at the crisp bills in disbelief.

˚ ༘♡ “listen to me,” he said, his voice shaking but steadfast. “after this, after i take care of everything, i’ll buy us a beautiful home. somewhere quiet, somewhere safe. hold onto this for now.”

˚ ༘♡ you blinked at him, your mind struggling to process the sudden shift, the money heavy in your grasp. “sang-woo,” you said, your tone rising with vexation and confusion, “where did you get this money?”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer, his eyes avoiding yours, and that only fueled your frustration. “tell me!” you demanded. “where have you been? do you have any idea what I’ve been through? i thought you left me for another woman or fled the country!”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw clenched, his expression fading as guilt flashed across his face, but he said nothing.

˚ ༘♡ you pressed further, your voice strained with a mix of hurt and fury. “i talked to your mother. she said you haven’t called her in ages! i went to your work. they haven’t seen you in weeks! your friends? same thing. no one knows where you’ve been!” your hands tightened around the cash, your knuckles white as your chest heaved with the distress of your tone. “how could you do this to me? how could you leave without a word, without an explanation?”

˚ ༘♡ his silence hurt more than any words could have. he looked at you, his expression a painful mix of regret and something darker, something you couldn’t place. his lips parted as if to speak, but he hesitated, the words caught somewhere between his chest and his throat.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears began to sting your eyes. “please. i need to understand.”

˚ ༘♡ “i’ll tell you everything soon, i promise, sweetheart,” sang-woo murmured, his voice unsteady, as if it pained him to speak. his hand, calloused and trembling, reached out to rest gently on your cheek, his touch delicate. your heart ached as you met his gaze, those dark, exhausted eyes glistening with unshed tears. it was a look so raw, so unfamiliar.

˚ ༘♡ “you have to trust me,” he said, his tone soft but pleading. “you have to listen to me. i’ve already given you what you need to cover your expenses.” his hand lingered against your cheek for a monthly moment before falling away, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. “i have urgent legal and business matters to deal with, but once they’re resolved… we’ll have the life we’ve dreamed of. everything we’ve talked about.”

˚ ༘♡ his lips brushed against your forehead, the kiss light but filled with a quiet desperation that made your chest tighten. “nothing could ever keep me from you,” he breathed, the words barely audible. “promise me you’ll do as i ask.”

˚ ༘♡ everything about this felt wrong, the way he avoided your questions, the haunting exhaustion in his voice, the bruises that lined his hands and face. you wanted answers. you wanted to demand he tell you everything right then and there, but the way he looked at you, so broken, so unlike the composed sang-woo you knew, kept you from saying anymore.

˚ ༘♡ uncertainty clouded your mind, nonetheless you nodded, your voice hardly above a whisper. “i promise.”

˚ ༘♡ his shoulders sagged slightly at your answer, the tension in his body loosening, though not entirely disappearing. “good,” he said softly, almost to himself. he was still nervous, his eyes darting toward the door as though expecting someone to burst through at any moment.

˚ ༘♡ “i have to go,” he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. “but i’ll come back. i swear, okay?”

˚ ༘♡ “okay,” you replied, unsure but unwilling to push him further.

˚ ༘♡ he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a fleeting, tender kiss that left you yearning for answers. then, without another word, he turned and left the apartment, closing the door behind him.

˚ ༘♡ you stood there, the silence of his absence pressing down on you, dread engulfed your thoughts. your mind churned with questions, with doubts, but one thing was certain, you were relieved, no matter how strange the circumstances of his return, to have seen sang-woo again. the agonizing ache in your chest told you that his departure had left you with far more questions than answers.

a/n: my first sang-woo fanfiction!! is it controversial for me to say i love his character and he’s my favorite one in squid game? please let me know if you have any requests! 🤍

[honeyhotteoks]

lessons in intimacy (k.ys)

summary: you didn't mean to actually meet the man who's audio porn was single handedly getting you off every night, but you do.

note: this has been a looooong time coming and is dedicated to one of my best friends, grace. 💗 i hope everyone enjoys this chaotic smut fest.... also i've recently discovered that porn is actually illegal to produce or consume in korea? so suspend your disbelief for this fic lol

warnings: camboy!yeosang/barista!yeosang x fem!reader, it's a smut-a-thon barely a plot in sight featuring - nsfw/audio porn, guided masturbation, female masturbation, male masturbation, lots and lots of orgasms, use of dildo, nipple play, one night stand dynamics except they kind of fall for each other, big and i mean big dick yeosang, oral sex (f receiving), gratuitous squirting, fingering, thigh riding/grinding, protected and unprotected sex (do not do this they're being hella dumb), rough sex, maaaaaajor praise play he says good girl more times than i can count, so much use of 'baby', plus pretty girl/babygirl, absolute pleasure soft dom yeosang of our dreams, reader literally passes out from coming you're welcome

pairings: yeosang x reader

genre: smut and more smut, where's the plot???

word count: 14.5K

additional note: yeosang owns a cafe in this fic called ongozisin, it's a real cafe in seoul and you can check out their ig here! the vibes are truly so yeosang i can't even articulate it, so i just wanted to share this for the extra visual!

Paid porn for women has tiers. You stumble headfirst into this realization with your fingers stuffed inside yourself and your body slick with sweat, and there’s nothing that takes you right out of your frantic self care session than a request for your credit card number and a terms of service page. 

Your chest is heaving, legs shaking, and you feel your orgasm slip right through your fingers as you skim over his Fansly page. You should have just skipped to another one of his free audios on Pornhub like you always do, but this week was long and stressful and slightly emotionally fraught, and there’s only so many times you can ignore his husky little ad at the end of the audio file inviting you to check out the full, uncut content. 

“Jesus,” You breathe, pushing yourself up in the bed and letting your phone drop to the side as you recover your breath. 

Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to pay for porn? The internet is full of it, spilling over from every angle with any little thing you can imagine. There’s a reason Rule 34 exists, people are horny and people love attention, so if you can fathom it there’s free porn of it. 

And yet, nothing ever, ever gets you there like he does, and you’ve never even seen his face. 

You glance down at your phone again and you see his familiar header image, a deeply contrasted black and white header of tangled white sheets, and his username striking across the corner in neon green. fromryu. This is what drew you in initially, the simplicity of it all. You were sick of skimming through all of the men making porn for women with names like ‘TheMasterDominant’, ‘Your_Daddy’, or ‘forherpleasureee’ and then just listening to them groan in your ear and call you a slut for fifteen minutes. That might work for some, but it definitely doesn’t work for you. 

Ryu was different, is different. His audios are a mix of scenario based role-plays and straight forward guided masturbation for women, and you’re pretty sure he comes right along with you when you listen, but it’s just not the same.

You’ve fucked yourself to every single one of his free audios. Some of them more than once, some of them several times, if you’re being honest. You’ve always ignored his ads, because he gives so much content away for free you can’t imagine what would be behind a paywall that would get you off harder, until today. 

Your brain just couldn’t get there. You’ve heard him chuckle that chuckle before, say that line before, coax you into orgasm with those exact words before, and you need more. 

Your credit card is firmly in your hand before you can give it another thought, and with a fluttering stomach you tuck yourself into a robe and back into bed to pick a tier. With a long sip of a fresh glass of wine you lean back in your pillows and read through his welcome page. 

His tiers make you smirk, he’s funny.

Third base, full uncut audios and one special audio per month just for subscribers – $4.99/month

Just the tip, uncut audios, one special audio per month, and access to a private discord server where subscribers can make audio request submissions – $9.99/month

Every inch (and more), uncut audios, exclusive audios, access to discord, exclusive video content, and access to a private Snapchat - $24.99/month

In for a penny, in for a pound, you guess. 

You click on ‘Every inch (and more)’ and plug in your card numbers before you have a second to rethink your decision. You really hope you don’t get hit with a fraud alert that you have to explain to some poor customer service representative. 

The wheel spins, the charge goes through, and suddenly you’re in. Your mouth has never been so dry. 

There’s dozens of videos, dozens. For every audio you’ve listened to on Pornhub, there’s a video that goes with it, and for every free piece of content there’s two times as much paid video content. $24.99 was nothing compared to how many hours of content you’re suddenly sifting through. 

There’s a common thread across every video though, you can already tell from the thumbnails, Ryu still never shows his face. Almost every thumbnail is the same, a white wall and a charcoal gray couch, and a man wearing oversized black sweatpants and a tight black athletic shirt. 

His knees are parted, legs spread open and casual, and his hands rest clasped between them. You swallow thickly at the sight of his arms. He’s built. His hands are so good looking you think idly that he should just be modeling watches or something, it’s ridiculous how nice they are. His skin is tanned, veins snaking up his forearms, and silver rings across several of his long, thick fingers. Can the sight of a man’s hands make you come? Your aching clit throbs. 

You skim through the video titles and tags to try and select one and your stomach twists. His videos are even more varied than the free content he posts and organized so well you think you might be in love with him already. 

There’s a folder for role play videos, and you skim through that quickly just to see. Neighbor overhears you moaning and comes to check on you, best friend takes your virginity, boss and secretary working late, brother’s best friend slips into your room at a sleepover, step-daddy teaches his babygirl a lesson. 

Your cheeks flush hot pink and you settle further into your sheets, backing out of this folder and navigating to your tried and true favorite.

Guided masturbation and encouragement. 

There are even more videos in this folder and you skim through any of those ones that say ‘exclusive’ in the title to avoid ones you’ve already heard parts of. The hashtags alone leave you breathless and you have no idea what to choose, every video cleanly tagged with what you’ll need to be able to keep up with his instructions. Hands only, rabbit vibe, hitachi wand, bullet vibe, dildo, butt plug, nipple clamps, lubricant, massage oil, blindfold, wrist restraints, ankle restraints, the list goes on and on.

You select one at almost random with the tags ‘hands and fingers’, ‘dildo’, and ‘optional squirting’. 

The screen starts black, and for a second you’re pretty sure something’s wrong, but then you hear him. 

“Hi everyone,” Your muscles melt, and you push your noise canceling earbuds deeper into your ears, “I have something a little special today,” 

You’ve never heard him talk so casually, almost like a vlogger or something. His voice hasn’t yet shifted into that deep teasing tone that kicks off every free video, and you’re already sold on every dollar you’ve spent when he starts to just chat. 

“I got a request from a special subscriber in my discord,” He says, “someone who’s become a friend and who confided in me that she’s never been able to make herself squirt,” 

Your breath comes a little more quickly. 

“It’s not easy to do, I know,” He says, tenderly, the screen still black, “and I want you all to know that if you’re still struggling after this audio, that’s okay. It takes time, and your body is not a sex toy. There’s not a perfect combination that works for every person with a vagina,” 

Your brow quirks at the inclusivity of his language choice and you smile a little, easing yourself down in the bed to keep listening to him. 

“But I’m going to do my best to help you,” He continues, “so while I get set up over here, I need you to get your own space ready. Get up out of bed or off the couch, but keep me with you, okay, baby?” 

You’re shaking and he hasn’t even said anything sexy yet. You don’t always listen perfectly to instructions, sometimes you skip ahead a bit and get to the good stuff just to get yourself off, but this time it’s different. You tuck your phone in your robe pocket and stand. 

“For this session,” You can almost see the smile in his voice and you try to imagine him, “you’ll need a couple of good towels laid out across your space. You’ll need to drink a big glass of water before we get started, and then I want you to find your best dildo, the one that really makes you come hard. The one that fills you up just right, that hits that tender little place you wish I was touching with my fingers,” 

He’s going to make you come so hard you see Jesus, you can tell already. 

“We need everything to be perfect,” He says, “and for you to be comfortable. Tonight is not the night to test out that new toy, okay? Tonight is for you and me, so go and get your supplies, and I’ll tell you all about my day. I’ll be your favorite little sexy podcast.”

As he starts warmly talking to his audience about his long lazy morning off work, you nearly crumble. You’re really not supposed to be getting a crush on this guy, but here you fucking are. He’s sweet, casual and laughs a little while he talks, and while you gather up the towels and the water and the frankly oversized dildo, you’re smiling. 

You hear him sit down and sigh and then his voice shifts, just a little, “Alright, baby, are you ready?” 

You sink back back down to sit on your own bed and you wait. 

“Just a reminder,” He says, “I will be using female descriptors throughout this video. If you’re uncomfortable with me calling you ‘girl’, like babygirl or good girl, or referring to you as a woman in any way, I am posting the similar content with male descriptors. If you’d prefer to hear baby boy or good boy, check the links below this video, okay?” 

You smile again. 

“Alright,” He hums, “now, where were we?” 

The camera clicks on and you feel the little gasp leave you. You almost forgot. 

He leans back on the couch and keeps talking, “That’s right, the lesson. Get settled over the towels, and if you’re wearing anything, it’s time to take it off for me.” 

You lay back over the towels and let your robe part open. 

“That’s so good,” He croons softly, “god, you’re so pretty, baby,” 

Your chest thumps hard. 

“Let’s start slow, okay?” His hands smooth over his thighs, “the key here is teasing, and I know how much you like it when I tease you.” 

Your hand rests on your own thigh, your other propping up the phone as you watch with rapt attention. 

“Touch your pretty thighs for me,” His voice is rich and thick in your ears, “that’s a good girl, there we go, nice and soft. Is your pussy wet? Did I do that to you again, pretty girl?” 

You’re barely breathing, eyes fixated on the screen as he strokes his own thigh through his sweatpants, slow and steady. 

“Are you aching?” He asks and you can’t help but nod, feeling like suddenly he can see you through the screen. 

“Touch just a little,” He murmurs, “but don’t jump ahead. Keep your fingers off your clit, we’re not there yet, sweetheart.” 

A little tight sound slips out of you as you follow his instructions. 

“Is your sweet slit wet?” He hums, and his hand slides up his thigh and rests over his stomach, “Are you throbbing?” 

Fuck. 

“Someday, baby,” He sighs and you watch him shift on the couch cushions, “I’ll taste you,” 

“Fuck,” You whisper. 

“But for now,” He’s smiling, you know it, “you just need to listen to me and do everything I tell you,” 

You’re nodding again. 

“I promise,” He says, “I’ll take such good care of you baby, if you listen, I promise to make you come.” 

Your stomach clenches, core fluttering, and you drift your fingertips up and down your slit, following the way his middle finger is slowly sliding back and forth on his abs. 

“Are you listening?” His voice goes husky and your head drops back into the pillows. Next time you’ll need a better way to watch him and listen and touch yourself, but you’re so incredibly desperate at this moment that it really doesn’t matter, you’ll make due. 

“You are, aren’t you?” He murmurs, “Good girl,” 

Your legs spread a little wider. 

He leans forward, you hear the rustling of the fabric and you snap your eyes back to the video to see him leaning forward, hands clasped together loosely, and you’re pretty sure you can see the outline of a bulge in his sweatpants. 

“Does it hurt?” He croons, teasing. 

You love him like this. 

“Take your hand away from your pussy,” He says, just a little more commanding, “right now, baby,” 

You pull it back reluctantly. 

“Close your eyes for a minute,” He murmurs, “spread your legs for me,” 

You comply immediately. 

“Tease your nipples,” He sounds a little breathier now and you fight the urge to watch the video, “do whatever feels good, touch your tits exactly the way you like it,” 

You roll your nipples, tugging them softly and kneading your breasts with both hands now that you’re not propping up the phone. 

“Imagine me with you,” He says, “feel my fingers sliding up your calves, my lips on your inner thigh, you can feel my breath against your sweet cunt, I know you can,” 

You’re about to come untouched, that’s the thought that rocks through your mind when your hips jerk on their own, his deep voice nestled right in your ear. 

“Look at you,” He muses, “squirming around, so fucking desperate for something inside you,” 

Your breath catches. 

“You’re so needy,” He continues, “are you making noise for me? Little pants, little moans? Are you trying to be quiet?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, a soft scold, “Not with me, baby,” 

A moan bubbles up out of you. 

“Hands off.” 

Your eyes open immediately, and you don’t pull your hands away just yet, but you’re frozen still. You’re breathing hard, blush climbing up your chest, and your hips jerk slightly. If he doesn’t let you touch yourself soon, you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Good girl,” He says after a moment, “very good,” 

You drop your hands, scrambling for the phone so you can see what he’s going to do next. 

“Now watch me,” He instructs, holding his palm up to the camera, “take two fingers,” he separates his fingers, keeping his middle and index fingers tucked together, “and when they’re inside curl them just like this.” He crooks his fingers in a come-hither motion, “Just like this,” 

You slide your hand down your front, slipping your fingers through your soaked folds, but his voice makes you pause. 

“Go slow,” He instructs, “push them in nice and slow for me,” 

You follow his instructions. 

“There you go,” He sighs softly, “now curl your fingers,” 

You watch as he does it in the video and you follow instructions dutifully, your fingers brushing over your spongy g-spot. 

“Feel that?” He leans back, and the tent in his sweatpants makes you pant, “That perfect little spot that makes you whine so good for me?” 

You nod again, biting down on your lip, desperate to move but waiting. 

“When I say,” He slips his fingertips into his sweatpants, teasing you, “fuck your perfect pussy with those fingers,”

Sweat drips down your chest. 

His hand disappears into his sweats and he groans, “Now,” 

You don’t have to be told twice. 

“Harder,” He says, throaty and low, “I know you can,” 

A tight sound slips out of you as you work yourself, but you nearly fall apart when you watch him push down the top of his sweats. His cock is huge, there’s no other way to say it. Thick and perfect, aching pink at the head and when he wraps his hand around himself you feel the tense knot of your orgasm rushing back. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” You scramble in the sheets, pulsing your fingers in and out just like he told you to. 

“Look at you,” He says again, “fucking yourself for me. I bet you’re imagining my fingers, aren’t you? Just like I’m imagining your dripping pussy,” 

Pleasure rocks in your gut. 

“Use your other hand,” He instructs, “rub that clit for me,” 

You drop the phone like it’s hot, and you have to crane your neck to see the video, but it doesn’t matter. He’s given you the perfect permission to do exactly what you need and you have to take it. 

“Does that feel good, baby? Yeah? Do you feel like you need to come for me?” His voice gets closer to the microphone and you’re rapidly approaching the edge, “You’re so close, fuck, listen to you,” 

“God, oh god,” Your legs are trembling. 

“Do you see how hard you make me?” His fist jerks over his cock faster and your mind is unraveling, none of his other audios feel like this, “Do you know how much I want to see you come?” 

Pressure drops in your belly. 

“Fuck,” He pants, “you’re almost there, I know you want to come for me, but not until I say,” 

It’s happening whether he wants it to or not, whether you want it or not, and your fingers bear down harder on your clit, your eyes locking closed, head falling back. 

“Hands off,” He’s not teasing anymore, he’s telling, “right now, babygirl, hands off.” 

You pull your hands away and it’s possible that nothing has ever felt as bad as this one stolen orgasm. Your hands are shaking, body flushed and slick with sweat, and if any of your neighbors are up they are probably getting an earful. 

You lock eyes with the video again and his hands rest on his knees, cock standing tall and at attention, edging with you. 

“Get that dildo nice and wet,” He says, and you search your sheets for the silicone cock, “in your mouth pretty girl, imagine that’s my cock between your lips,” 

He strokes his hand slowly down his length, smearing a bead of precum down to the base of his shaft as you dip the cock between your lips and take it as far in your mouth as you can. 

“It’s time to come,” He soothes, like he knows you’re a whining, quivering mess, “I know you need it,” 

The dildo pops free from your mouth and you watch as he lifts the hem of his shirt to expose the smooth plane of his abs, “Fuck yourself with me, sweetheart,” 

Pleasure pops through you as you press the toy to your hot channel. 

“Nice and fast,” He pleads, thrusting into his fist, “don’t stop this time, not until you come,” 

The bubble inside you expands again, pressure everywhere. 

“Just trust me,” He whispers in your ear, “don’t stop. I’ve got you, I’m right here, you let go baby. Don’t fight it,” 

Your back arches up off the bedding, the muscles in your arm aching as you thrust the toy in and out of yourself, pressing it up again and again into your g-spot. 

“Come, baby,” He sounds like he’s begging, and your free hand flies down to grip the sheets, “let go, you come, that’s it, there you go,” 

You turn your head, catching sight of him again and the way he works himself over. 

“There we go,” He groans sharply, his own release spurting up ropes of cum onto his exposed chest, “can you feel me inside you? Come with me, that’s a good girl, good fucking girl,” 

He sounds dizzy, panting himself, you’ve never heard him quite like this and one final thrust sends you spilling over the edge. Your vision whites, body locking up in ecstatic pleasure, and you clap a hand over your lips to stifle the moan that rips out of you. 

It takes a minute to come back from that. Your ears ringing, and the dildo slips out of you with a final pulse from your shattering orgasm. He’s talking, you register it, but his voice sounds far away and you realize that you’ve lost your earbuds. You scramble to get them back in, pulling the video up to your eyes. 

“-And that’s okay,” He’s saying, his cock tucked away and his shirt back down, “you can try again another time if you didn’t quite get there,” 

For a second you’re confused, it was the hardest orgasm of your life, but then you remember this was intended to be a guided masturbation to squirt and you blush, alone in your apartment, at the fact that you didn’t quite get there and he’s talking to you. 

“It’s all about the build up,” He explains, “but I’m sure with a little practice we can get you there.” 

You’ve never really cared about squirting until now, but he makes it sound like a perfect date and something tells you that you’ll be back here again night after night if he’ll have you. 

“Anyway,” He sighs and you hope he’s smiling above the camera, “thank you for spending a little bit of your day with me, I hope I made you feel as good as you made me feel,” 

You blush again. 

“I’ll see you soon,” He assures, gentle like a lover would, “sleep well, jagiya,” 

The video cuts and you blink hard, you’re still smiling. 

You are so, so fucked. 

After that, Ryu becomes a problem. You wish it was just the videos and the dirty talk and the good orgasms, but it’s more than that. You just like to hear him talk now, the little bits at the beginning about his day are starting to get into your head. And then there’s the Snapchat. 

You kind of expected the private Snap to be sexy photos and videos of him in the almost pitch dark huskily saying good morning, but it isn’t. You still have never seen his face, but his videos are casual, friendly, too real for a man you spend every night fantasizing about. He chats about things he’s doing or books he’s reading while he’s cooking, filming just shoulders down so you can watch the muscles in his arms while he chops vegetables. You fall in love with the sound of his voice when he’s just talking, his stretched out s-sounds that only really peek through outside of his constructed scenes. You find yourself missing him a little on days he doesn’t post. 

You’ve gotten used to waking up with him, falling asleep with him, checking in on him during the day. His message announcements in Snapchat don’t feel like they’re for everyone, they feel like they’re for you. You know that’s not true of course, you know you’re paying a hefty monthly bill just to feel like this, but you don’t care. It’s been a while, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t just need some company. 

It’s a Thursday when everything goes to shit. 

You wake up far too late, forgetting to set the alarm on your phone after falling asleep directly after yet another Ryu narrated orgasm, and everything has been off kilter since. You’re scrambling to get to work on time and every little thing is going wrong. Your coffee machine isn’t turning on, the sweater you want to wear is still in the wash, and your umbrella will not open despite the rain that’s ruining what would have been a good hair day. 

When you decide to stop into the coffee shop across from your office it’s not even a want, it's a need. You’re already thirty minutes late, why not make it forty-five? 

You’ve never come here, not once. You’re used to going to the shop around the block from your apartment, and this place is new. Ongozisin is the kind of place you’d normally take your time in. The space is clearly industrial, concrete walls and flooring made to look unfinished. The aesthetic is still warm though, with natural dark wood furniture and bamboo accents, Joseon era paintings and a juniper bonsai along the back wall. 

To the left side of the cafe stands a bay of tall windows and the very modern, very clean point of sale. The line isn’t too long, but you can see that the pace of this place is slower by design, so maybe you’ll just round up and call it an hour late. A door opens to your left and you watch as one of the baristas steps out from a kitchen holding two black plates of colorful, carefully constructed pastries. 

The line moves ahead of you, and the person behind you softly clears their throat to jog your attention. 

You step closer, only one person ahead of you now. 

When you hear his voice you nearly reach for your phone. 

“That’s perfect,” It’s Ryu, clear as day. His voice is distinct and deep and here. 

Your eyes snap up to the barista behind the counter, your body frozen stock still as you take him in, mind spinning. 

“Do you want any cream?” He says to the woman ordering. 

Blush lights up your cheeks and all you can think about is the video you watched the night before and his voice in your ear - Do you want my cum inside you, pretty baby? 

You should leave. There’s a reason this man is anonymous on the internet, never showing an inch of his face, and Ryu isn’t even his name, it's just what you call him. He never calls himself anything in the videos, never reveals what part of Korea he lives in, never talks about his job. He doesn’t want to be found. 

You’re about to turn, run, scramble away, but his voice comes again and this time you realize he’s talking to you. The man, Ryu, smiles, “Good morning, can I get you something?” 

You’re frozen. 

“Miss?” A little crease between his brows. 

“Sorry,” You jump forwards, ignoring the annoyed huff behind you and shaking off as much of this panic as you can, “I don’t know where my head is this morning,” 

“That’s alright,” He says warmly, “that’s what I’m here for,” 

You can’t say anything, your mind blanks. 

His eyes flick over you and then he nods, “You know, coffee? To wake you up?” 

“Right!” You nod, “Sorry, yes, an americano please,” 

“Iced or hot?” He asks. 

Are you feeling hot, babygirl? Do you need to take something off for me? 

“Hot,” You say it on a reflex but then you remember yourself, “no sorry, iced, iced please,” 

“Okay, sure,” He smiles, “iced,” 

You make it through payment without too much more embarrassment, apologizing again, and then you step to the side. Another barista appears, slotting into Ryu’s place so he can turn his attention to the drinks he needs to make and you take the moment to get composed. 

He’s handsome, that’s a given. You expected that, but still he looks even better than your imagination conjured up, more real. He looks exactly right for this cafe too, his black hair long enough to brush the base of his neck with half gathered into a ponytail, pieces loose to frame his angular face. He’s dressed smartly too, black oversized trousers and a fitted black t-shirt, slim black boots, and an open jacket in a dramatic modern-hanbok style. You realize you’re staring the minute his eyes hold on yours and they crinkle up as he smiles. He has a birthmark, a smooth light pink flush across his eye and your heart thumps in your chest. 

“Long night?” He asks you, passing off a coffee in a mug to the woman who had been ahead of you in line. 

He just puts you at ease and you nod, “Something like that,” 

“Ah,” He knocks out the round cake of used espresso from the portafilter as he talks, “and you look like you got caught in the rain, don’t you have an umbrella?” 

“Broken,” You grimace, “it’s been one of those mornings,” 

“Mm,” He nods, focusing on queueing up espresso for your americano, but while the shots pull he turns back to you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before?” 

You shake your head, “No, first time,” 

“Do you like it?” He gestures around with a nod of his head. 

“Very much,” You smile, “it’s a great space,” 

He smiles again, looking proud, “I’m glad you like it,” he says, “we haven’t been open very long, but so far people have seemed to enjoy it,” 

“Oh,” You watch him pour your espresso over ice, “is the cafe yours?” 

He nods, “Mine and my friend’s,” 

You wish you weren’t late, you wish you were able to stay just a little longer. 

“Well,” You tell him honestly, “it’s beautiful here, I’ll have to come in more often, I only work across the street.”

“Ah,” He nods, “I thought you looked familiar,” 

Blush creeps up your neck. 

“Did you need cream?” He asks and you hope he doesn’t notice the way your pulse quickens at his words, but he nods towards your coffee and you shake your head. 

“Thank you,” You take the cup off the bar and step back, “I appreciate it.” 

“I hope that helps,” He says, and then he glances behind you at the large round window, “actually, I’m sorry, can you wait one moment?” 

“Sure,” You watch him duck out from behind the bar, making a quick beeline for the swinging door that leads back into the kitchen. You have no idea what he could want, there’s no way you’d be recognized by him except as a stranger on the street, and your stomach knots up. 

It takes him a moment, but he darts back out, a long black umbrella in his hand, “Take this,” 

“I can’t do that,” You wave a hand, “I’m only across the street, but that’s really kind of you,” 

“If you’re only across the street then I know where to go to get it back,” He shakes his head, “just take it, it’s raining like crazy out there,” 

He presses the handle of the umbrella into your free hand, and your breath catches in your throat, his skin brushing against yours. Your eyes flick over his rings, just the same as always. A signet with a deep black stone, a hammered silver band, a clearly vintage one on his index finger that looks like an old Catholic saint token, the finer details rubbed away with age. 

“What time do you close?” You ask, accepting the umbrella. 

“Seven,” 

“I’ll bring it back after work then,” You tell him, “is that alright?”

He nods, “But if it’s still raining, just keep it. Bring it by tomorrow,” 

“Tomorrow,” You nod. 

“Mhm,” He nods, something warm in his expression, “this will have to be your new usual spot,” 

Is he flirting? You’re wholly and entirely unprepared to deal with that considering the way you moaned his name last night. Something clicks in your brain at that thought though and you nod, “Maybe it will. I’m y/n, by the way,” 

“Yeosang,” He smiles, “it’s very nice to meet you.” 

Yeosang.

“You too,” You dip your head, “and thank you again for this,” 

“Of course,” He says, “I hope this turns your morning around a little,” 

You open your mouth to say something, but there’s a voice from the cafe bar that slices cleanly between your conversation, “Yeosang-ah!” 

Yeosang glances back and then he sighs, just a little, “I have to go,” he tells you, “but I’ll see you again,” 

“See you again,” 

He’s back behind the bar before you can blink, focusing on each customer’s order. The man who called his name is grinning, and you wonder idly if he’s the friend who owns the cafe with Yeosang or just a part-timer. 

With your stomach fluttering, you push out into the rain to get to work, Yeosang’s name on a loop in your brain for the rest of the day. When you get home, his umbrella resting by the door, you delete his Snapchat from your contacts and unsubscribe from his Fansly account. 

Ongozisin becomes a daily ritual. 

The money you used to spend on his Fansly now goes straight into the cafe, first thing in the morning before work and a last lingering stop in the evening before you go home. 

On busy days you barely get to see him and sometimes you’re left just chatting with Wooyoung, his best friend and business partner. You like him too, you like the atmosphere and their kind warmth, but if you’re being honest you find yourself living for slow days. The days where you’ve timed it just right to have a little talk before the rush of the day or the closing tasks of the evening. 

Little by little, Ryu fades from your mind, and the man in front of you is just Yeosang. The guy who runs your favorite coffee shop, the guy who dresses almost otherworldly, who smiles wide but only when you say something truly funny, who sometimes gets lost in his own head while he’s making cappuccinos. 

He’s lovely. 

Sometimes you think he might be flirting, a little more suavely and charismatic than his business partner who asked if you had a crush on him since you were coming into the cafe so much. Sometimes Yeosang adds a little extra treat to your plate of food or he adds pretty latte art to your cup if you’re staying in the cafe. That might be nothing, but it certainly might be something. 

It isn’t until another day of rain, harsh pelting rain, that Yeosang appears at your table. 

“We close soon,” He says, and when he sees the brief flash of concern that you’ve overstayed your welcome on your face he shakes his head, “sorry, I meant to ask, how are you getting home tonight?” 

“The train,” You glance outside. 

His nose crinkles, “You don’t have an umbrella today either,”

“True,” You look down at your belongings, “I didn’t check the weather,” 

“If you wait a bit for us to lock up,” He says, “I’d be happy to walk you to the station,” 

“Oh,” 

“Or if you’re not busy,” He clears his throat softly, “I could walk you to this little restaurant around the corner?” 

Flirting, then. 

You smile and nod, trying to keep your eagerness tamped down to a normal amount, “Are you asking me out, Yeosang?” 

He grins, “I’ve been trying to,” 

Your stomach flips pleasantly, “I’ll wait, dinner sounds nice,” 

His shoulders sag, a little relief in his expression and he clears away your empty cup as he says, “I’ll be quick,”

You catch Wooyoung slapping his friend's shoulder as he disappears into the back room, and before you know it you’re blushing and sitting across from this man at the restaurant down the block. 

Dinner is so smooth it feels surreal. It turns out you both like the same music, and several books too, and you’ve never been on a date with a man who asked you so many questions about yourself and didn’t just talk your ear off. Dinner stretches long too, and you’re strangely grateful it’s a Friday when you finally do check the time. He has to work on Saturday at the cafe, but not until a little later in the morning, and so neither one of you really wants to call it quits. 

The after dinner walk turns meandering, and then his hand is brushing against yours, knuckles to knuckles. 

You don’t think of him as Ryu until his fingers brush down your back, lips close to your ear when he finally asks you. The way he does makes your body melt - I hope I’m not ruining things by asking, but would you like to come home with me tonight?

You agree before your mind catches up to itself, but every step of the walk to his apartment has your heart picking up speed. You had forgotten on the date how you met him, really met him, and your gut churns. 

Do you tell him? Do you lie? 

Everytime he grins at you, touches you, tucks his long hair behind his ear and nods, you can’t imagine a one night stand. You could maybe swallow the truth if that’s all this was to you, but it’s not, and so you can’t. 

On his block you feel the internal countdown ticking. 

“You can change your mind, you know,” He offers, noticing how you’ve gone quiet, and it pulls you straight out of your thoughts. 

“Oh,” Your head snaps up, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to change my mind at all, I just got a little lost in thought.” 

He nods, this time finding your hand and giving you a squeeze, his steps slowing as you approach his building, “Can I ask what about?” 

You nod, returning the soft pulse of his hand in yours before separating your skin from his. His eyes flick down to your hands, and then back up to your eyes. 

“I have a bit of a confession,” You swallow hard, “something I think I should tell you before we go upstairs,” 

“Okay,” He leans against the stone wall behind him, “is everything alright?” 

“I hope so,” You nod, “I just feel like there’s something I should say now, and if it makes you uncomfortable at all, just be honest. I’ll go home, no hard feelings,” 

“y/n,” His brows draw together in confusion, “what’s going on?” 

You take a deep breath, taking a step back to get a little breathing room, “I recognized you when I came into the cafe that first day,” 

“Recognized me?” 

“Yeah,” You clear your throat, your chest feeling tight, “for the past few months I’ve been… a subscriber,”

“A subscriber,” He repeats, and for a brief flickering second you wonder to yourself if this man just looks and sounds and feels exactly like Ryu but isn’t, but then his face blanches, “oh,” 

“I’m not anymore,” You shake your head, “and clearly you like your privacy, so I didn’t know how to just come out and say it, but if you’re actually interested in me and not just being flirty at the cafe then I just can’t lie to you… I don’t want to start something with a lie,” 

He’s quiet, and then his eyes flick down. 

It was so, so nice while it lasted. 

“I should have told you sooner,” Your stomach flips and you take another step back, “and I completely understand that you’re upset, I’ll just, I won’t say anything to anyone and it was lovely getting to know you, and I’m sorry, I’ll go,” 

His head snaps up, “Go? y/n, stop, slow down,” 

His hands smooth down your forearms as he jumps forwards, pulling you gently back towards him. Your heart is beating so loud you can practically hear it, “I’m sorry,” 

“I’m not upset,” He assures, “can we go inside to talk? I don’t want to do this in the street,” 

You nod, letting him lead you through the garden gate and up towards the house, but his words pulse on a loop in your mind. You hope he’s good at letting you down easy because this hurts. You should have known it that first day at the cafe, you should have stayed away and not played with fire. 

His house is small, but very nice and despite being sparsely decorated, you like it. You feel trapped in the entryway so unsure of what to do in this space, especially when you recognize the corner of his gray couch. 

“Can I get you a drink or something?” He interrupts your thoughts, “I have wine, probably some soju, and a bottle of truly undrinkable Japanese whisky,” 

“Undrinkable?” You blink. 

“I think it’s supposed to be very good if you like whisky,” He explains, “it was a gift,” 

“Ah,” You couldn’t feel more awkward if you tried, “wine, I guess?” 

“Okay,” He smiles, a close lipped polite smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes, “well, make yourself comfortable, I’ll get us a drink and then we can talk,” 

“Sure,” You’re still frozen as he walks away down the hall to what you presume is the kitchen. It takes a minute to unstick yourself, but you make your way to the couch and wait. 

He returns with two glasses of red wine and then he sits in the chair opposite you, not on the stretch of couch next to you. 

“Sorry,” You take the wine, stomach flip flopping, “I know this isn’t how you thought the night would go,” 

“Mm,” He nods, taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know what to say,” You tell him honestly. 

He nods, looking anywhere but at you until he finally meets your eyes again, “You’re not a subscriber anymore?” 

“No,” You tell him firmly. 

“Why?” He asks, and the question hangs between you. 

“When I recognized you at the cafe and you were being so nice to me,” You explain, “it occurred to me that something might happen between us, as friends or otherwise, and it just felt wrong to know you as Yeosang and then… engage with your content that is clearly anonymous and meant to be private. I didn’t want to do that without you knowing,” 

He nods, setting his glass on the nearby coffee table, “I see,” 

“You are keeping it private, right? I feel like you’re careful to not overshare,” 

“Yes,” He nods, “no one knows.” 

“Then I really am sorry,” You set your own glass aside and lean forwards, “I’m sure you didn’t want to bring your real life as Yeosang and your online life as Ryu together, I just recognized your voice immediately that day in the cafe,”

“As Ryu?” He glances back up at you. 

“That’s what I…” You try to parse through it so it doesn’t sound like a parasocial affair, “fromryu, you know? That’s just what I filled in for your name, I guess,” 

“Ryusang,” He nods, “it’s the Hanja spelling of Yeosang,” 

“Oh,” You soften. 

“Why didn’t you mention you knew me before?” He asks, but despite his words nothing in his demeanor is upset, just curious. 

You take another large, steadying gulp of wine and nod, “I didn’t really think the cafe was an appropriate place to tell you that I’ve gotten off to your voice before,” 

He laughs sharply and looks down, “Okay, that’s fair,” 

“Right,” You murmur. 

“y/n,” He sounds hesitant and you look back up to him, “can I ask you something?” 

“Anything,” 

“Did you come out with me tonight because you wanted to go out on a date with the guy from the cafe, or because you wanted to have sex with Ryu?” The question is direct and cutting. 

“With you,” You answer quickly, and now you know exactly why he’s putting this distance between you, “you, Yeosang.” 

He’s quiet, turning your words over, you can practically see him thinking. 

“Yeo,” You murmur, fighting the urge to reach out to him, “if all I wanted was that, I wouldn’t have told you. But I really like you, Yeosang, and I’d like to see more of you and see where this could go, but I completely understand if me knowing this part of you is too much. If you don’t want to go any further with me romantically or as a friend, this can just be a nice date we both had,” 

He nods and then says, “I have one more question,” 

You wait, your stomach in knots. 

“Do you have a problem with what I do?” He asks. 

“I mean,” You shake your head, “I was a subscriber, so no,” 

“I don’t mean like that,” He clarifies his words, “I mean in terms of a romantic relationship. I like my work, both the cafe and the content, and if we start seeing each other I’m not going to suddenly stop making porn just like I wouldn’t close the cafe.” 

“I’m not asking you to,” You shift over on the couch and reach towards him, resting a hand on his forearm. 

“I’ve dated a few women,” He explains, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together, “this was not something any of them were comfortable with,” 

“Oh,” You nod, but he continues. 

“A couple of them thought it might be fun,” He adds, “but when things got more serious they expected me to stop for them,” 

“I’m sorry,” You tell him quietly, “I don’t expect anything like that,” 

“You don’t now,” He points out, “and neither did they in the beginning.” 

You can see the way this has fucked with his head a little, the way he keeps his shoulders stiff and turned away from you as he explains, and you suppose you might react the same way if you were in his shoes. 

You chew the inside of your lip as you think about how best to say this to him, but finally you manage it, “Yeosang,” you get his attention, “what you do for work doesn’t change what we do on a date or in bed,” 

He turns his head a little, the only indication you have that he’s really listening. 

“I have no expectation that you’re some… sex god,” You smile a little, “though my guess is that you’re pretty good at dirty talk,” 

A small smile appears on his lips. 

“If I didn’t like what you do for work I’d go find another guy,” You continue, “and I’m sorry if the other women you dated weren’t comfortable with it, but I’m not so shy about it. I like what you do, and you’ve helped me plenty, and there’s nothing more flattering than knowing you liked me enough to even bring me upstairs,” 

“Don’t sell yourself short there,” He looks up, shaking his head, “when you said yes to dinner I thought I’d be lucky if I got to so much as touch you,” 

Your heart quickens in your chest, “You, what?” 

He turns his body towards you properly now, “y/n,” he says, “I like you, I’ve liked you since you walked into the cafe soaking wet and exhausted, I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for weeks.”

“I think I’m dreaming,” You breathe, and he grins at your words. You clap a hand over your lips and groan, “Sorry, I didn't mean to say that outloud,” 

“It’s honest,” He says, “I like that about you,”

“Well,” Your hands naturally separate as you lean back onto the couch, “then believe me when I tell you that I am fine with your work. All aspects of your work,” 

His eyes flick over you, gauging how honest you’re being now, “All aspects?” 

You nod again. 

“y/n,” His voice softens, “what tier subscriber were you?” 

It clicks in your brain that you haven’t really told him everything, all the things you know about him and his work. Little audio videos here and there might be forgivable to some women, but more might be too much. 

“The highest,” You tell him, “when I say everything I mean it, the videos, the Snapchat, all of it.” 

He seems to relax at that, “And if this does go somewhere,” he gestures between you both, “if we keep seeing each other. If it becomes more than a few dates,” 

You nod. 

“You’re alright knowing that even if we were dating and going to bed together every night, I spend my free time making people come on the internet for money,” He says it so plainly that you have to blink at him. 

You turn his words over and then sigh, “There’s one thing,” 

He leans back in his chair, putting a little more distance between you both, obviously braced for your words. 

“I just have a question,” You ease him, “just something I should know, I think.” 

He nods once, his shoulders tense again. 

“Do you ever talk one on one with people?” You feel your cheeks heat, “I know you do, you have the discord, but I mean do you ever do what you do alone with someone?”

He softens, “No, no I don’t,” 

“Okay,” You nod, the tense knot in your stomach relaxing, “okay, then,”

“Would that be a boundary for you?” He asks. 

“I think so,” You tell him, “it’s different when you’re making a video to upload for anyone and talking to someone, at least to me,” 

He nods, and then he moves, shifting from his position on the chair to your side on the couch. The nerves that were knotted deeply inside you start to unfurl, his proximity feeling like a peace offering, like an acceptance of your words.

“Subscribers aren’t lovers,” He says finally, “and some people blur that line with their content, but I don’t.” 

“Then, Yeosang,” You take the opportunity to slide yourself sideways a little closer to him, “I am fine with all aspects of your work, more than fine.” 

“Will you tell me if that ever changes?” He asks. 

“Yes,” You make him this promise, “I like you too, all I want is to be honest with you,” 

He nods, his fingers flexing on his thigh as he thinks. Finally, he swallows tightly, his skin flushing a little now that you’re almost pressed together on the couch, and he asks what he’s wanted to ask all night, “y/n,” he turns towards you, “can I kiss you?” 

He’s stunning this close, enough to render you speechless, breathless. You manage a single word, “Please,” 

He’s on you in a flash, and Yeosang’s lips are warm, soft and plush and as he presses into you and winds his arms around you. Your body relaxes into his instantly, the feeling of his warmth, the scent of him, rich coffee grounds and sugar infused into his skin from his work at the cafe. 

His tongue probes your mouth, his breath hot as he sighs. Your body feels alight, hot and feverish and desperate from just a single kiss. You need him inside you yesterday. 

When he breaks the kiss, you realize you’re half straddling him. Somewhere in the heat of the moment and the muddled fog you hitched a leg over his and his hands dragged you up against him so you’re chest to chest. When your mouths break apart, you’re still merely inches from each other and panting the same little breath of air. 

“y/n,” His hands explore you slowly, moving over your skin like he’s trying to learn you, “normally I would try to keep the kink to a future date, but since you already know all of my deepest, darkest fantasies, maybe we can skip ahead?” 

“Yes,” You laugh softly, “definitely,” 

“But I am realizing something,” His hands find the curve of your ass, “I’m at a disadvantage here, you’ve seen my videos, but I don’t know anything about what you like.” 

“You,” The word bubbles up and you flush red again. 

“My voice, I’m sure you like that,” He drops it a little to emphasize the husky bedroom quality of it with a teasing smile on his face, “but what videos do you like? What were your favorites?” 

He’s about to ruin you, there’s absolutely no question. Even if he was all talk you’re sure to be coming just from his words alone, but his hands, the way he touches you, there’s no doubt he has the skills to back up everything he’s ever said in the videos too. 

“Now I’m a little embarrassed,” You admit, “an hour ago we were on a first date,” 

“An hour ago I didn’t know the woman across the table had fucked herself to the thought of me,” He counters softly, “and we can slow down if you want but judging from the wet patch on my thigh I think you want to keep going,” 

You jerk your hips immediately, angling to pull them away so you can stop embarrassing yourself all over this man after a single kiss, but his hands lock down hard over your ass and he holds your body firmly against him. 

“No, no,” He adjusts his leg so that his thigh is pressed even more firmly against your cunt, “don’t be embarrassed with me,” 

“Right,” You blush darker. 

“I’ll tell you what I want,” He offers, “would that help?” 

You nod quickly. 

One of his hands shifts to lovingly stroke up and down your back as he speaks, “I want you to enjoy this more than anything. There is nothing that gets me off harder than making a partner absolutely fall apart for me, and knowing I did that for them, and I think you already know that from my content. That’s real, that’s me.” 

You shiver a little and he leans up to kiss you, softer this time. 

“I’d like this to be good for you,” He continues, “and honestly I already want to see you again, but in case it’s only one night for you I think we should make it count.” 

The night went from nothing to everything so fast your head is spinning but you nod, surging up to kiss him with your hands pressed against his chest for balance. Your core drags along his hard thigh with your momentum forwards and you gasp a little into the kiss, your hips bucking softly on their own at the sudden pleasurable sensation. You feel something stiff and warm pressing into your belly and you feel a rush of sensation between your thighs. 

“So,” He kisses you again, leaning away so he can talk to you, “tell me what videos you liked,” 

“The um,” You clear your throat softly, “the guided ones,” 

He smiles, “Those are your favorites?” 

You nod. 

“And the roleplay?” He asks. 

“Good,” You nod, “everything you do is really good,” 

“But the guided ones get you off, hmm?” He squeezes your hips. 

You nod again, “You’re very good at what you do,” 

“Guided,” He says, almost to himself, before he drags your hips up and back along his thigh, “so you like when I talk you through it?” 

You rock your hips on your own this time, picking up on his cues that he wants you to grind on him, “Mm-hmm,” 

“Tell me more about what you like,” He keeps one hand planted firmly on your backside, but the other starts to wonder, fingers teasing the skin of your collarbones before he cups your breast through your sweater. 

  “Y-you’re so comforting,” You manage as you slowly rut your body against his, “even when you’re edging me and telling me what to do, you’re just, I don’t know,” 

“Is that right?” He teases softly, his fingers toying with the top button of your closed cardigan. 

“Mm,” You sigh, pleasure truly starting to build inside you as you rock your clit lazily against him, “and you understand it takes time for women,” 

The button opens. 

“You take your time with the build up,” You sigh, finding a better position for your hands against his firm chest while you continue to rock, “and when you talk about what you wish you could do to me if you were there,” 

Two more buttons part open and he hums softly, appreciatively, “You like knowing what I want?” 

You nod, watching as he makes short work of your other buttons. 

“Maybe I should just show you,” He slides the cardigan off your shoulders until it pools around your waist, caught on your elbows, “wouldn’t that be better than just listening?”

“Y-yes,” You sigh, your hips slowing so you can let him take the lead. 

He shakes his head, pressing his hand against your ass again to keep you moving, “That’s it,” 

You moan softly, fingers gripping his shirt, “Yeosang,” 

He chuckles at your needy whine and brushes his fingers between your breasts, stroking up your chest, down and over the wire of your bra, and lower still over the soft flesh of your belly. 

“There you go,” He smiles, “I know that feels good,” 

You nod, “So good,” 

“Jagiya,” His hands slide your bra straps down, letting the soft material of the mesh cups fall and reveal your breasts to his hungry eyes, “look how pretty you are for me,” 

You’re close. 

“Don’t stop,” He murmurs, shifting under you so that he can sit up further and press his lips to your chest, “I need you to come,” 

“Yeo,” You whine, your hips sinking into a quick rolling rhythm that feels so right. 

“I need to take my time with you,” He confesses, lips traveling from the center of your chest across the swell of your breasts, “but I don’t think I can,” 

“I-I don’t want you to,” You moan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to stay steady, “please,” 

“I want to,” He groans, “but, fuck, y/n,” 

“Yeo,” You shudder, pleasure snapping up and down your spine, “it’s not one night, it could have never been one night for me,” 

He exhales a heavy breath against your skin, hands tightening pleasantly on your rutting hips. 

You’re startlingly close to tipping over the edge, the bubble growing closer and closer to bursting, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly to focus on the sensation of him, “I-I need,” 

He grips you harder, “Tell me, baby,” 

“I, I,” You stammer, body stumbling towards coming. 

“Come on,” He says lowly, “tell me what you need, baby, I’m right here,” 

A tight sound bubbles out of your mouth and you figure it out in a second, your hand winding into the back of his hair to direct his head, pushing his mouth until you feel his lips ghost over your pebbled nipple. 

“Oh,” He groans, his tongue catching your nipple firmly and sending a shock down your back, “there we go, I’ve got you,” 

His tongue flicks over your nipple again, closing his lips over the hardened bud to suck sharply in exactly the way you need to take you right over the edge. 

“I’m,” You grip him harder, losing yourself entirely now as you grind against him for your release, “I’m so close,” 

“Come,” He pants, latching back onto your breast to keep lavishing the same attention, his arms banding tightly around you to hold your shuddering body close.  

Your finger tightens in his hair, he begs you once more to come, and your orgasm knocks into you sideways. You moan sharply, jerking against him as you fall apart, and you feel him start to move. 

He presses fast kisses across your chest, his voice soothing, “Oh, there we go,” he sighs as he feels you trembling, “fuck, what a good girl showing me exactly what she needs,” 

His words draw a groan from your lips, your head buzzing at his praise. 

“Perfect,” He sighs against your chest, “you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,” 

You shiver, “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” His fingers trace a circle around your nipple, and something in the way he’s touching you and the sound of his voice tells you everything. He’s about to tease you, edge you, make you come, and god willing he was about to fuck you. Yeosang flicks his thumb over your nipple and smiles, “Baby, I’m going to turn you over, if you want to slow down or stop at anytime you just tell me,” 

“I think I’ll be,” You start to say, and then he maneuvers you quickly in his strong arms, gathering you close so he can turn you over on the couch, leaving you lying flat on your back against the cushions. You squeak and the way he pushes your legs together, quickly undoing the buttons on your trousers and pulling down the zip, and he glances up at the sound to check your eyes but finds nothing but your lazy post-orgasm smile. 

As he kneels and strips your trousers off he groans, “God,” 

“W-what’s wrong?” You blink, finding his eyes. 

“Absolutely nothing,” He smooths his hands up and down your bare legs, “except I’m finding it very difficult not being inside you yet,” 

“So come inside me,” You smile. 

The corner of his mouth turns up at your words, “Already, baby? It’s only the first date,” 

You process your words and roll your eyes, “You know what I meant,” 

“I do,” He smiles wider now, “but you need to come again before I fuck you,” 

“Not that I’m complaining about you touching me,” You gasp sharply as he hooks his thumbs under the sides of your thong and yanks it away, “but I’ve been daydreaming about your cock for months, so,” 

He laughs sharply, tugging his own shirt up and off over his head as he does, “I’m flattered,” 

“Shut up,” You press your thighs together and let your head flop back onto the cushions. 

“Darling,” Yeosang says, kissing each of your thighs before he starts to slowly open your legs again, “how long has it been since you’ve been with someone?” 

“Honestly?” You grimace, “A while,” 

“And how long since you’ve had anything bigger than your fingers inside you?” He asks it so plainly, so calmly, while he widens your legs and starts to tip you open, another kiss to your inner thigh. 

You shiver in his hands, “N-not that long,” 

“Hmm,” He sounds pleased at that, “do you like using toys when you fuck yourself to my voice?” 

“Fuck,” You gasp as his finger traces the softest line up and down your slit. 

“Is that a yes?” He blows a cool stream of air across your throbbing clit and you jerk in his hands. 

“Yes,” You answer quickly. 

“What I wouldn’t give to watch that,” He says, kissing your inner thigh again before he continues, “but still, I’m probably bigger than your dildo, be patient with me,” 

“Oh, fuck,” You melt as he presses one finger inside your slick channel.

“Relax,” He soothes you, “just let go for me,” 

You don’t know how your life is this strange, how you went from listening to this man through your headphones while you touched yourself under the covers alone at home to his fingers sinking inside you. You’ll probably wake up from this dream with sticky thighs. There’s no way this is real. 

Those are the thoughts that dizzy you until he pushes two fingers flush into your heat and you moan sharply, your hand gripping down on one of the couch throw pillows. He feels pretty real. 

He groans, gently pumping his middle and ring finger just to get you used to the sensation, “Feel good?” 

“So good,” You sigh.

“How badly do you need to come, darling?” He asks, continuing the slow and steady thrust of his fingers. 

“So badly,” Your voice is whiny, needy, entirely informed by the feverish heat spreading through you. 

“Pretty girl,” He hums, “with an even prettier pussy,” 

“Oh, god,” You grip the pillows harder, and he’s barely doing anything to you but your legs are already starting to tremble. 

“Mmm,” His fingers begin to pulse more firmly and you feel his fingers curl, finding the spongy crook of your g-spot with practiced ease, “and you need my cock inside, don’t you?” 

“Ah, yes! Yes,” Pleasure blooms through your body. 

“Soon,” He promises. 

You moan again as he repositions, continuing the steady drumbeat of his fingers inside you as he reaches around with his opposite hand to separate your lower lips, the pad of his middle finger now alternating between maddening flicks and taps to your clit. 

“Ah! Yeo,” Your hips rock, “just like that,” 

“Good girl,” He murmurs, “telling me what you like,” 

A tight sensation fills your lower belly, a blossoming heat that spreads from your core up through your body in warm waves, “F-faster,” 

“Mm,” His thrusting picks up speed instantly, the angle slightly adjusting as he does, “that’s it,” 

The angle chance has his curled fingers pumping against your g-spot hard and suddenly the sensation drops low, almost painfully tight and sharp like you’re on the precipice of something. 

It occurs to you all at once what he’s trying to do, the way he’s trying to make your body sing, and despite the rolling waves of pleasure and how close you are to your second release, you don’t necessarily want the first time you squirt to be on Yeosang’s floor. 

“B-baby,” You whine, the pet name slipping off your tongue, “I’m gonna, I think, oh fuck,” 

“Fuck yes,” His fingers flatten down over your clit and he rubs fast, slickly rolling over your firm bud, “let go,” 

“I can’t,” You shake your head, sweat breaking out across your brow, “I’ve n-never, oh, fuck, Yeosang!”

“Come,” He commands softly, “that’s it, you come, right here, baby,” 

He’s not stopping, and with the way he’s working you there’s no way you could even if you tried. In a snap your body releases hard, a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt pulsing through your slick cunt and your legs jerk, hips snapping up as clear fluid pulses out of you. The sound that leaves your lips is wanton, broken and needy, and your ears are very clearly ringing. 

“Oh, fuck,” Yeosang hums, almost to himself, rubbing fast across your soaked slit to help coax every bit of slick from your center, “oh, baby, look at you,” 

Your legs try to snap shut at the suddenly sharp overstimulation, but all he does is take that as his cue to stop directly stimulating you and instead drop the warm flat of his tongue over every inch of your glistening pussy. You gasp sharply at the feeling, rolling your head forwards so that you can look down between your legs, and you moan softly at the sight. 

He’s buried between your thighs, lazily licking stripes up your inner thighs and over your cunt, but slowly enough that his aim isn’t to draw you into another orgasm, he just wants to taste you. To feel you on his tongue and ease you through your little aftershocks. 

“God,” You breathe after a moment, “oh, my god,” 

He chuckles, kissing the top of your mound, “Was that your first time?” 

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. 

He groans a little, palming his hard cock through his trousers to readjust, “That’s an ego boost, I’m not going to lie,” 

You manage a laugh despite your dizzy, orgasm fogged brain, “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” He strokes your thigh, “if you’re not careful I might get addicted to the way you taste when you come,” 

A shudder runs through you, “You can’t just say things like that,” 

  “It’s not a lie,” He says, “I’d spend a whole night between these thighs if you’ll let me,” 

“Mm,” You sigh, reaching down for him and brushing your fingers through his long, dark hair. 

“Now?” He cocks his head slightly to the side, “If you want my mouth, you just have to ask,” 

You shake your head, slowly starting to push yourself into a sitting position and slide your hips away from him, “Not tonight,” 

“What more can I give you tonight?” He murmurs, running his hands up and down your bare thighs, “Anything you want,” 

You cup his face, drawing him close to lock your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his nose, “Take me to bed, please, Yeosang,” 

“Let’s go,” He agrees, extricating himself from your arms so he can stand and offer you a hand up. 

You take it, but as you do you realize the wet puddle on the floor in front of the couch and you blush dark red, covering your mouth with your hand, “I’m so sorry,” 

“For what?” He blinks at you, and then follows your nervous eyes. 

“I didn’t realize,” You start to say but he interrupts you with a hard kiss. 

“Relax,” He says, “if we’re lucky you’ll make a mess of my room too,”

“I don’t know how I did it,” 

He laughs again, “I do,” he smiles, “now come on, I need to see you in my bed before I combust,” 

He tugs your hand, leading you down the hall until you’re in a large master bedroom. Your eyes flick over the details - industrial, warm wood, dark green sheets, soft ambient lighting. You’re about to comment on it, but he flips you back around to face him and captures your mouth in another hungry kiss. 

“God,” He backs you up to the edge of the bed, dropping you down and falling over you, “tell me I can have you,” 

“You have me,” You pant against his mouth, all thoughts of his lovely interior decor gone in an instant when you feel the hard shaft of his cock nestled between your thighs. 

“I swear next time we’ll go slow,” He grinds his hips down, rolling his length up and down your slit, only the thin fabric of his trousers separating you. 

“Please,” You buck against him, “I need you right now,” 

“Fuck,” His hands are hot, searching, “is that right, darling?” 

“Inside me,” Your hands scramble to find his waistband, “please,” 

He nods, lips still pressed against yours, and then he leans back just enough to undo his trousers and start to push down his pants and boxer briefs. 

Your mouth runs dry immediately. He wasn’t wrong about his size. You have fairly large dildos at home, thick and long and perfect for reaching all the spots you need it to, but Yeosang was bigger, thicker and longer than anything you’ve ever had inside you. 

“Condom?” He manages as he shucks off his pants. 

You blink, tearing your eyes away from his perfect, aching cock and nod, “We probably should?” 

“Right,” He doesn’t push you to make a different choice, he simply searches his nightstand for a moment and produces a foil packet. 

He strokes his cock twice while he tears the packet open with his teeth, before watching you beneath him as he rolls the condom smoothly down his length, adjusting it so that it fits perfectly. 

You’re trembling with anticipation, you can feel it and so can he. 

“y/n,” He murmurs, leaning over you and pressing a hand beneath your back to finally unclip your bra, “I want you to do something for me,” 

You nod, sliding the cardigan and bra off your body and pushing them over the edge of the bed. 

He grabs a firm looking pillow and folds it in half, “Lift your hips for me,” 

You lift up and he slides the pillow right under your backside to leave you propped up and open for him. 

“If it doesn’t feel good,” He murmurs as he maneuvers you into the position he wants, “or if I’m hurting you at all, just tell me,” 

You nod. 

“And I want you to tell me when you’re about to come,” He instructs, “I need to know,” 

You nod again, your stomach flipping with desire. 

He licks his lips, folding your legs open a little wider and slotting himself over you. He settles with one hand on your raised hip, the other braced on the bed by your head, his knees on the edge of the mattress between your splayed thighs. 

His cock finally, finally, nudges at your entrance and you grip down on the sheets below you. 

“Mm,” He groans, sinking just an inch or two into your tight heat, “you’re even tighter than I thought,” 

He pushes in a little more and you moan at the stretch, “Oh, god,” 

“Do I feel that good, babygirl?” He teases, pushing in a little more.

“So good,” You lift your head to watch the way his thick length splits you open. 

“I am bigger than your toys, aren’t I?” He rolls his hips this time, rocking himself deeper with every little thrust. 

“Y-yes,” You nod, your head dropping back to the mattress. 

“Can you take me, baby?” He murmurs low. 

“Fuck yes,” Your hips buck up again on their own as he opens you up, nearly fully sheathed inside you. 

“Just a little more,” He says, his hand tightening on your hip, “there we go, fuck, that’s it, you’re taking me so beautifully, baby,” 

Tears rush to your eyes, not from any kind of discomfort, but just from the overwhelming sensation of him. You’ve never been so full, never been so deliciously stretched and had these parts of you touched, and it rushes a blush to your chest and emotion through your veins. 

His fingers brush along your jaw, bringing your eyes to his, “Good tears, or should we stop?” 

“If you stop I’ll actually cry,” You laugh, blinking away the hazy sheen in your eyes, “you feel so fucking good,” 

“Oh,” He sighs, thrusting gently in and out of you, “what a good, good girl, you are,” 

“Jesus,” You shiver beneath him. 

“Yeah?” He starts to move now, just a bit more, rocking his cock at a steady pace in and out of your wet core, “You like when I tell you how good you are for me?” 

“Yes,” You moan, a shock of hot pleasure spiking up from your core, “please,” 

“Such a good girl letting me fuck her perfect pussy on the first date,” His voice has dropped low again, husky and direct, and you babble out a sound of pleasure as he talks, “so warm and wet,” 

“Fuck, fuck,” Your eyes roll. 

He collapses over you a little more, his desperate lips searching for yours and the angle deepens, pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside you with every downward thrust of his hips. 

You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his warm skin, “Baby,” you pant, “your cock, oh god,” 

He hums against your cheek, head falling slack as his lips find your throat, sucking your pulse points and no doubt searing his mark into your tender skin. He pumps his hips harder and you moan under him, cursing again and scrambling to hold him closer. 

“Such a dirty mouth,” He nips at your neck, “are you always like this, or is my cock that special?” 

All you can manage is a taught moan in response, his cockhead now continuously connecting with your sweet spot over and over and rendering you unable to string a coherent thought together. 

He groans at the way your cunt flutters and spasms and he kisses you hard, fingers tangling in your hair, “One of these days I’ll feel you for real,” he pants, “nothing between my cock and your sweet cunt,” 

Your back arches, your mind spinning at the thought, “Yeo,” you moan. 

“Fuck,” He chokes, “the way you’re squeezing me,” 

You make a tight sound, something between a pleasured whine and a sob, and his hips stutter and stop, pressing his cock in as deep as possible as he grips down on whatever parts of you he can, breathing hot and heavy against your skin. 

You can’t really move well in this position, but your hips rock in tiny back and forth motions to try and keep the sensation rolling through you. He’s panting into your shoulder, clearly trying to keep himself from coming too soon, and your mind commits to an idea before you have a second to double check yourself. 

“Yeo,” You tap his arm, “baby I need to move,” 

He pushes off you, his cock sliding out of your soaked core and you leg your legs straighten out, “What’s wrong,” 

The words are barely off his tongue before you’re sitting up, grabbing his hand and drawing him back to the bed, pushing him onto his back with a guiding hand to his shoulder. He lets you lead, watching you as you put him where you want him this time, and he smiles, eyes flicking over you appreciatively. 

“I need you,” Is all the explanation you can give, and maybe with a stranger this is foolish, borderline stupid, but you know him. He’s not a stranger really, not to you. 

With a feverish pulse of need inside you, you shift to straddle his hips, and with quick, sure hands you roll the condom up from the base of his cock and toss it to the side. 

“y/n,” He manages, but you’re lifting yourself over him now and his hands fly up to brace your waist, “are you sure?” 

“So sure,” You connect his cockhead with your slick hole and drop your hips down fast, taking the whole hard length of him inside you in one smooth motion. 

It’s his turn to moan, his head dropping back at the sensation of your wet walls and he grips at you, his hips stuttering beneath you. 

“God,” He bucks up into you, “you’re perfect,” 

“So are you,” You rock against him, finding the perfect place for your hands on his chest, “you’re so deep,” 

He moans again, and when you start to bounce up and down he curses tightly. 

“J-just don’t come inside me,” You keep bouncing, a steady fluid motion in your hips that you can tell is driving him crazy, but you have to keep your head at least a little. 

“F-fuck,” He groans, his jaw tightening as his eyes flick down to the place your bodies are joined together, “you’re making that kind of difficult,”

“I just wanted to feel you,” Your shaking arms buckle a little and you find yourself flush against his chest while you work his cock. 

“Me too,” His hands find your ass again and he starts to direct the pace, “God, I could fuck you forever,” 

A moan drops from your mouth, your hands tightening on his chest. 

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, and you realize your hips slowed at his words, “you feel so good riding me like that,” 

Your thighs are burning already, but you hardly care, every fast shift up and down leaves you closer and closer, “Love you cock,” 

“Mm, yeah? Say that again,” 

“I,” You curse as a spike of pleasure rolls through you, “fuck, I love your cock,” 

“Good girl,” He grips you tight, his hips jutting up to meet you now. 

Your pace falters slightly, “Please, please,” 

“I’ve got you,” He adjusts just enough to hold you steady as he fucks up into your tight heat, “I’ve got you,” 

You moan, dropping your head into his chest and shuddering against him, “Baby, oh fuck,” 

“A-are you close, jagi?” He pants, fingers digging into your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises. 

“Don’t stop,” You beg, “please, god, don’t stop,” 

He groans, keeping the pace of his thrusts and using his hands on your ass to maneuver you to meet his hips. 

“Shit,” You shudder in his arms, your orgasm fast approaching, “I’m coming,” 

“Come here,” He shifts you fast, rolling you up and off him and manhandling you up to your feet. 

You make a surprised noise at the lack of him inside you when you were getting so close, but you don’t have to worry for very long. Before you can open your mouth he has you standing, facing away from him, and bent over ninety degrees to brace your hands on the bed. 

He thrusts back inside you sharply, slamming his hips into yours and leaving you moaning and curling in on yourself, your legs starting to tremble. 

“Come on my cock, pretty girl,” He palms your ass before planting his hands on your hips and using the leverage to pull you back into each of his thrusts, “you’re so close,” 

Your eyes slam shut, fisting the sheets as you hang on, every sharp push of his cock driving deeper and deeper. You’re going to have bruises, you’re going to be sore, but none of it matters when he’s making you feel this good. 

You sob out a moan, collapsing forward into the bedding but he holds you up, “I can’t,” 

“Yes, you can,” He pants, his sweat slick skin connecting again and again with yours. 

“Fuck,” You groan, “I’m almost, I’m so,” 

“Touch your yourself,” He directs, interrupting your pleasured ramblings, “rub your clit for me, baby,” 

You slide a hand between your legs, locating your slick bud with ease and rolling your fingers over it quickly. 

“Fuck, there you are,” He groans, “that’s right, baby, come on my cock,” 

The same new sensation drops in your gut, your legs start to shake and you’re fairly sure that without his sure hands you’d be crumbling. 

“That’s it,” He coaxes you up, never once slowing the sharp snaps of his hips, “there you go, that’s my good girl,” 

Something unravels in your gut and you come with a shout, folding in on yourself as your legs quake and your mind whites out. Yeosang wraps his arms around you, curling over your back to keep you steady, and his cock slips free so he can stimulate you through your orgasm with his fingers, more liquid pulsing out of you as he fucks you over the edge. 

You’re a quivering mess, and he lets you drop into the sheets, pushing you onto your back so he can stand over you, one hand fisting his slick cock. 

“I’m coming,” He groans, “w-where?” 

Your hands cup your breasts automatically, and you arch up to offer yourself to him, “On me, baby, come all over me,” 

Yeosang groans sharply, his hips thrusting into his tight grip as ropes of silvery white cum paint your skin, covering your belly and breasts and dripping down your chest. He’s panting, his skin flushed pink and sweat covering every inch of his toned chest. 

It takes you both a moment to recover, both trembling in the same position as you try to regain your breath, but after a few moments he smiles a hazy, satisfied smile and finds your eyes, “You’re so beautiful,” 

Suddenly you feel a bit shy, even despite everything you’ve just done together. 

“So beautiful,” He sighs again, pushing his hair back out of his face, and then he drops to his knees. 

He hushes your soft protests and this time he tastes you slowly, but with intention. After such rough, intense sex, he follows it with the softest, slowest orgasm you’ve ever had. With slow sucks and gentle licks he brings you through a languid rolling wave that softens your limbs and leaves you sleepy and pliant in the sheets.  

You drift, falling into sleep too easily for a first date in a sort of stranger’s apartment. 

You wake a little later to a warm sensation on your skin, and you blink your eyes open to see Yeosang sitting next you, freshly showered and wearing black sweatpants and a familiar blank tank top. He draws the wet washcloth over your skin and then stops and smiles when he sees your eyes open. 

“Hey,” He murmurs. 

“Hi,” You reply softly, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” 

He shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry,” 

“I think you scrambled my brain a little,” You laugh, covering your face with your hands. 

“Hopefully in a good way,” He nudges you. 

“Beyond good,” You look up at him, “are you kidding?” 

He smiles a little wider, “Good,” he says, “I drew you a bath,” 

“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise. 

“I thought you might be sore,” He explains, “I know I was a little rough, I hope you’re not feeling it too much,” 

You shake your head, “Just a little, but in a good way,” 

He nods, “Does the bath sound nice, or would you prefer a shower?” 

“Bath is perfect,” You can see that he’s suddenly a little nervous, back to the same man from your date, no trace of Ryu’s husky tones. 

“Here,” He offers you his hands to help you up, and guides you towards the connected bathroom suite. It’s large, crisp and clean, and in the corner stands a large spa-like tub filled high with warm water. 

“Thank you,” You murmur as he helps you slip into the cocoon of water, the subtle scent of lavender wafting up from the steam. 

“Mhm,” He nods, pulling a bamboo stool from the side of the sink and setting it down so he can sit at the edge of the tub and be at eye level with you. 

“This is nice,” You murmur, still finding yourself a little shy in the post-orgasm clarity of it all. 

He’s quiet for a moment, his fingertips dragging over the surface of the water and then he bites his lip. 

Your stomach sinks for a moment, nerves coming back tenfold at the idea that maybe he’d prefer you to go after this, maybe this is all you’d ever have. Maybe he reconsidered what you know about his online persona and maybe he wasn’t willing to take the leap. 

“y/n,” He sighs, “this might be forward,” 

You look up from the rippling water. 

“But what do you think about staying the night? We could order some dessert, maybe keep getting to know each other a little?” He asks. 

You can’t fight the smile that blooms over your face, “I thought you might have changed your mind,” 

“No,” He reaches into the water to find your hand, twining your fingers together, “not at all.” 

“Yeah?” You squeeze his hand. 

“I’d be crazy to let this be a one-time thing,” He lifts your hand from the bath and presses a kiss to the back, “I hope you feel the same.” 

“I really do,” You twist to the side, leaning over to find his mouth and lock your lips together. 

Yeosang cups your cheek, deepening the kiss tenderly, his tongue sweeping against yours, “What are you doing tomorrow night, then?” 

“Tomorrow?” You lean back a little. 

“Let me take you out again,” He kisses you again, softly this time, “I’m probably supposed to wait a few days, Wooyoung would tell me I seem too eager, but,” 

“Who cares about that?” You grin, leaning out of the bath far enough to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, “It’s a date,” 

“And Sunday?” His hands slide down your back. 

You nuzzle his nose with yours, “I have a date,” 

“Oh,” He says, deflating instantly. 

“You might know him,” You tease, “he owns this lovely little cafe,” 

He laughs, his forehead leaning on yours, “You’re mean,” 

“You like me,” You peck his lips. 

“I do,” He nods, “I really, really do,” 

[burningembers91]

Not Who I Want to Be - Choi Su Bong (Thanos) x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Thanos is tired of life, until he meets you.

A/N: I am determined to make this man likeable. Redemption story arc incoming!

Warnings: Mentions of abusive father, mentions of drug and alcohol dependency. 18+ only!

Thanos couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent 24 hours sober. He’d either been drunk, high, or both for as long as he could remember. When he was a teenager, it was a way to escape his abusive father, but the pills and drinks eventually became a crutch, one he couldn’t function without.

He still had no idea how he’d become so famous, how his music had managed to become such a hit with so many people. There were songs he didn’t even remember writing, days that were completely lost in a haze of booze and drugs. But somehow, people loved him. He was under no illusion that people loved him for who he was – he knew he was a prick. No, people loved him for his fame, his money, and his seemingly unlimited supply of narcotics.

It didn’t matter to Thanos though; he relished the attention, basked in the flirtatious attention he received from women whose names he never bothered to learn. His friends were nothing more than people desperate for fame, clinging to him in the hope he’d make them as big a name as he was.

People seemed to love his outlandish character. Every time he did something insane, his fans would go crazy for him. So, Thanos slowly became more unhinged, forgetting the little boy he’d once been, the one who’d had big dreams. He spent each night with a different woman, attending every party in Seoul. His penthouse apartment was a constant hive of activity, the people he’d picked up along the way using it as a base to get high.

He didn’t even enjoy music anymore, the words he wrote meant nothing to him. His fans constantly demanded more of him, so he worked like a dog to give them exactly what they wanted. Nothing he wrote made sense; it had no meaning, no context behind the raps. His songs were as empty as his soul; but people were eating up his words like they were gospel.

It was a usual Saturday night ritual for him to attend a club in Seoul. To make an appearance to the crowd, before getting blackout drunk. Tonight, he found himself in the throng of a sweaty crowd, so high off the pills he’d taken before coming out that he was barely clinging to existence. The usual scroungers were there, taking as many free drinks from him as they could get, posing for photos that would instantly be uploaded to Instagram for a few minutes of fame. Girls were clinging to his shirt, their slurred words ricocheting off his ears, melting into the thump thump thump of the base from the speakers to his right. He was dizzy, dehydrated and so, so fucking done with this crowd. He needed to get away, needed to breathe some fresh, sweat-free air.

Pushing himself away from his followers, he stumbled up the steps to the rooftop. It was raining, the wind pushing the droplets sideways into his face. If it was cold, his body didn’t feel the chill. It had been a long time since Thanos had felt anything. The roof was empty, expect for a figure to his left. You were stood huddled under a thin canopy, your arms crossed over your chest. You sipped periodically from a glass, shivering every now and again against the stormy night.

You were the most beautiful thing Thanos had ever seen. You seemed to light up the entire space, despite the wind and rain. Your outfit clung to your figure, accentuating your curves and leaving him breathless. You spotted him staring and offered a small smile. Half walking, half stumbling, Thanos made his way over to you. One good thing about the booze and the drugs, it gave him confidence; and he’d need a bucketful to speak to you.

“Hey girl,” he said, instantly transforming into his overly-macho, too confident persona. “You know who I am?” “No,” you simply said, taking in his tall, lean figure and bright purple hair. “Should I?” “I’m fucking Thanos, baby!” He cried, the wind drowning out his voice, making him seem as small as he felt. “Right… Sorry, doesn’t ring any bells,” you shrugged, downing the last of your drink. “Where would I recognise you from?” “My music,” he told you proudly, spreading arms so you could take him all in. This wasn’t the usual reaction he got. People usually knew he was before he’d even introduced himself, but you, you were just looking blankly back at him. “I’m award winning, senorita!” “Sure,” you smiled, “I’ll uh… I’ll take your word for it.” A clap of thunder stopped your next words, the two of you looking towards to the storm-laden skies. “We should get inside,” you said, “wouldn’t want the famous Thanos to be struck by lightning.”

Following you inside, he couldn’t help but eye your figure as you walked down the stairs. You were nothing like anyone he’d ever seen. Your indifference and unfamiliarity with him were refreshing. You weren’t scrambling to get an autograph or clinging to him in the hopes he’d buy you a drink or take you home for the night. “You here with friends?” He didn’t want the conversation to end, he didn’t want you to leave. He’d probably never see you again if you left now. “Yeah,” you nodded, “it’s my colleagues’ birthday. She really loves this place. You?” Thanos looked around, his eyes scanning the crowd for the people he knew were anything but his friends. “Yeah, baby! It’s Saturday night! It’s party night!” If he wasn’t so off his face, he’d be cringing at the way he was speaking. This wasn’t him; he knew it wasn’t. But he didn’t know how to be any other way. “Well, don’t let me interrupt your evening,” you smiled. He could tell you thought he was a joke; he knew you saw straight through his bullshit. “Wait!” He called after you. “Can I get your number”? You turned and shook your head. “Sorry, Thanos,” you smiled, “I don’t give my number to Marvel villains.” He laughed; not only were you beautiful, you were funny too. “What about your Instagram then?” You thought for a few moments, and finally agreed. Typing your account name into the search bar, you pressed the follow button. “Hey, your accounts private!” Thanos remarked, seeing the request pending written across the screen. “Yeah, it’s to stop all the weirdos from following me. You never know, I might accept. Have a goodnight, Thanos!” And with that, you disappeared into the crowd.

He awoke the next morning, his head pounding and his mouth dry. Some random girl lay next to him in bed, a bottle of vodka tipped on his side and dripping the last of its contents all over his custom-made tile floor. His memory of last night was hazy; he didn’t remember leaving the club or getting home. He didn’t remember going to bed with a stranger, but he remembered you. He remembered the way the strobe lights reflected in your eyes, the way you refused to put up with his shit. He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his apps until he found Instagram. Clicking on your profile, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw you’d accept his follow request.

A message popped up on his notification banner from you. His hands shaking from nerves and withdrawal, he clicked on it. Hey Thanos, it read, I hope you didn’t get blown away in the storm last night. He laughed, harder than he had done in months. Finally, he was excited about his day. He couldn’t wait to reply, couldn’t wait to see where this new conversation could lead him. He jumped out of bed, heading for the shower with his phone clutched in his hand. For the first time in a long time, Thanos was looking forward to the day ahead.

[loveesiren]

𝖡𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖭𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾

Thanos x American!reader

a/n: hi my babies! so this is my first thanos (choi su-bong) fic i'm posting. however, i kind of wrote this as an aftermath of a little series i've been working on of them in the games. so, once i am done hating it and editing it, i will posit it! but i hope you guys enjoy this cute lil fluff. i suck at writing fluff tbh but i tried! xx also, t.o.p is my gwiyomiii, my honeyyyy, my angel babyyyyyyyyy! i'm so inlove with him so feel free to send requests!

synopsis: nightmares of the games still haunt Thanos a year later, but luckily Y/n will never leave his side.

warnings: language, fluff, very brief mention of sex if you squint

wc: 1.1k+

You couldn’t sleep. Insomnia had wrapped itself around your mind ever since surviving the games last year, a constant shadow in your otherwise bright new life. You had so much to be grateful for—making it out alive, the money that had saved you in more ways than one, and, of course, Su-Bong. Though, to this day, you still called him T. Your T.

Never in a million years would you have imagined living in a sleek penthouse in downtown Seoul with a man you fell in love with while playing deadly children’s games. Yet here you were, in a world that once seemed as unreachable as a dream: Thanos’ World. And you loved it.

The games had changed Thanos in ways you never thought possible. He quit the drugs, buried his oversized ego, and spent six months holed up in his apartment with only you for company. It was a metamorphosis you never expected but cherished deeply. When he finally emerged from that cocoon of self-reflection, he returned to music—his first true love. But this time, it wasn’t about sex, drugs, and wealth. His lyrics delved into the rawness of his childhood, the pain of his struggles, the weight of his dreams—and you. Always you. You were his muse.

Being with the Thanos, however, was far from simple. Going out with him was an ordeal, a gamble. Fans flocked to him wherever he went, now more than ever, since he’d announced his new album. He once thrived on the chaos, basking in the adoration of women throwing themselves at him and men idolizing him. He was a star, and he reveled in the glow. But now? Now the attention suffocated him. He avoided crowded places as much as he could, especially when you were by his side.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to show you off—God, he did. But the fear gnawed at him. What if something happened to you? What if someone hurt you? You’d already faced your fair share of vitriol when the media leaked that Thanos was dating some American girl. “American bitch,” they’d called you, throwing their venom your way in tabloids and comment sections. But the hate didn’t break you. If anything, it hardened your resolve.

You refused to let him hide away forever. When his anxiety tried to keep him tethered to the penthouse, you were the one who dragged him out into the world. You reminded him of what life outside these walls could offer, even if it wasn’t always kind. And slowly, piece by piece, you were helping him reclaim it.

You glanced over at Thanos, his peaceful face softened by sleep, his arm draped lazily over your bare thighs. Carefully, you lifted his arm and slipped out of bed, moving quietly so as not to disturb him. Padding toward the kitchen, you glanced at the clock: 2:30 a.m. Another sleepless night. You sighed, the weight of endless insomnia pressing down on you.

You set the kettle to boil, deciding tea wouldn’t cut it tonight. The staleness of the room felt suffocating. What you needed was air. Before stepping out to the balcony, you peeked into the bedroom again, reassured by the steady rise and fall of Thanos’ chest.

The view of Seoul stretched before you as you stepped outside. The city pulsed with quiet energy, its lights casting a warm glow against the dark sky. The faint scent of cherry blossoms drifted through the breeze, mingling with the night air and brushing your hair across your face. This view, this life—it was something you’d never take for granted.

Pulling out your phone, you typed a quick message to Se-mi.

y/n: You up?

Minutes passed before your phone buzzed with a reply.

Se-mi: Yeah. Can’t sleep?

y/n: The insomnia is never-ending.

Se-mi: I miss when we all lived together.

Your lips curved into a bittersweet smile. Memories of those first fragile weeks after escaping the games flooded your mind. The four of you—Thanos, Se-mi, Min-su, and you—crammed into your tiny apartment, clinging to each other for sanity. For weeks, you barely left the safety of those walls. Eventually, Thanos invited everyone to move in with him, but Se-mi and Min-su had decided it was time to go back to their families. The games had taught them how precious life was. That, and your shared space wasn’t exactly conducive to privacy—especially with how loud things could get between you and Thanos when you couldn’t keep your hands off of eachother.

y/n: I miss it too. I miss you. Shopping tomorrow?

Se-mi: You know I hate shopping.

y/n: But you love me, and T gave me his black card.

Se-mi: Spoiled brat.

y/n: See you tomorrow 🥰

Se-mi: Can’t wait ✌🏼

You smiled at her response, warmth spreading through you at the thought of reconnecting with your best friend. But the moment of peace was shattered by a sound from inside—faint whimpers carried through the air. Your heart clenched. Setting your tea down, you hurried back to the bedroom.

“T?” you called softly as you stepped inside.

No response. Only the faint cries that sent chills down your spine. You rushed to the bedside table and flicked on the lamp. Thanos was thrashing slightly, tears streaming down his cheeks, his hands grasping desperately at the empty space where you should have been.

“Fuck! NO!” he suddenly screamed, his voice hoarse with panic.

“T!” you gasped, climbing onto the bed and pulling him into your arms. “T, baby…” you murmured, your voice gentle but firm. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

His hand found your shirt, bunching the fabric in his fist as though clinging to reality. He fought against the demons clawing at him, his breaths ragged and uneven. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused at first, until they locked onto yours. His lip quivered as shame filled his expression.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, brushing your thumb tenderly across his cheek to wipe away the tears. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

“Fuck…” he sighed, his voice trembling as he buried his face in your shirt. His shame was palpable, but you held him tightly, cradling him as though the weight of his nightmares could be eased by your embrace.

“Another nightmare?” you asked softly. He nodded wordlessly, slipping his hand into yours. He hated these moments. Hated the way his past still haunted him, dragging you into his darkness. But you didn’t mind. You’d made a decision long ago: this man was worth every struggle, every sleepless night. Some may say a few days isn’t enough time to know who is your person, but when your life is on the line, time has a way of fast-tracking love.

“M’sorry…” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your chest.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, T,” you reassured him, your fingers running soothingly through his hair. “You know I’ll always be right here.”

“Promise?” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and vulnerable.

You kissed his forehead, tightening your arms around him. “Promise,” you said, and you meant it with every fiber of your being.

No taglist yet but if you'd like to be added to future fics, let me know! :)

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

[hoshifighting]

Producer!Woozi x Celebrity!Reader

— Synopsis: You and Woozi have admired each other's work for a long time. Now, he has the opportunity to produce an album with you. Working on an album for a worldwide artist like you brings him immense joy... and turn-ons. — WC: 4.8k — WARNINGS: Smut, studio sex (Universe Factory), oral (f.receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, aftercare, reader fangirling over Woozi shirtless in Ruby's M/V mentioned.

Your name is splashed across big screens from Times Square to the Grammy Awards. Music didn't just enter your life; it crashed in, loud and powerful, sweeping you off your feet. It became your everything. 

You went from singing in front of millions of people to strumming your guitar alone in a poorly illuminated room, lost in your own world. Music was your passion, your escape, and your purpose all rolled into one.

With that passion came endless opportunities. You were constantly on the move, traveling from one country to another, meeting people you once only dreamed of being in the same room with. You found yourself breathing the same air as your idols, sharing stages with legends. 

Friendships blossomed, some fast and fleeting, others deep and lasting. The world knew your name. Your songs played in every state, on every continent, bridging gaps between different cultures and bringing people together.

Those cultures left a mark on you too. 

You soaked in the richness of each place, each new experience shaping your music and your perspective. You remembered your early days, the hunger for inspiration, the late-night searches for new artists. 

One night, you stumbled upon a webcam live stream with a bunch of boys in a neon green melona room. You laughed and loved watching them, their energy infectious even through a screen. You became a fan, following their journey as you built your own.

But here's the thing about being a superstar: time is never on your side. Your schedule was always packed, and despite being in contact with some of the Seventeen members through DMs and mentioning your admiration for them in interviews, meeting them in person was a challenge. You were in Seoul for a tour once, and they appeared on your show, but there was never enough time to truly connect.

Now, after years of hectic schedules and fleeting encounters, you finally had a moment to breathe. You were working on a new album, and for the first time in a long time, you had the opportunity to switch things up. Your usual producers were fantastic, but this time, something different was calling you. An opportunity was waiting in South Korea, and it had your heart racing with excitement.

You, your manager, and the company representing the group had been in talks for months, working out the details. The goal was clear: to collaborate with Woozi, the musical genius from Seventeen, on your new album. 

When your team informed Woozi that you had just arrived at HYBE, his palms began to sweat. He never imagined he’d get to work with someone of your caliber. The fact that you specifically wanted to work with him made it all the more surreal.

As you walked through the HYBE building, your assistant and one of the staff members gave you a tour. You were almost giddy with excitement. The walls were lined with photos and awards, the air buzzing with creativity. When you finally approached the recreation area and spotted Woozi, his cheeks turned a shade of red. He was nervous, but seeing you smile so brightly at the sight of him sent a sense of relief through his system. 

You were genuinely happy to see him.

As you step into the recreation area and see Woozi standing there, your cheeks flush a deep red. You can’t contain your excitement. "Woozi, I'm so happy to see you," you say, extending a hand, unsure if a hug would be appropriate.

He senses your shyness, and, in a moment of genuine openness, he breaks through his own reserve and gives you an awkward hug. It's brief and a bit clumsy, but it’s sincere. As you pull away, you swear this is the happiest moment of your life.

"I’ve admired your work for so long," you say, your eyes sparkling with genuine admiration. "Your music is incredible."

Woozi shakes his hands in front of him, a shy smile spreading across his face. His long hair swings slightly as he responds, "Oh, no, really, it’s nothing compared to what you’ve done. I'm honestly just honored to be here with you."

You laugh softly, feeling a bit more at ease. "Are you kidding? I still remember hearing your solo for the first time and just being blown away."

Woozi's cheeks tint pink as he looks down, scratching the back of his head. "Thank you, that means a lot coming from you. I remember when we all watched your first big performance. We were in our green room, and we were all just in awe."

You grin, recalling that exact moment you first saw them. "I remember that! I was so inspired by you guys. It’s amazing how things come full circle, isn’t it?"

He nods, his eyes meeting yours with shyness "It really is. I never thought I’d get the chance to work with someone I looked up to so much." Woozi chuckles softly, breaking the silence. "By the way, I saw your post on Twitter about wanting to visit the Universe Factory—my studio."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you cover your face with your hands. "Oh my God, you guys see my tweets? Oh nooo!"

He laughs, a sound that's both comforting and infectious. "Yeah, they're hard to miss," he admits. "And I may have received a few screenshots of your reaction from 'Ruby'." 

You gasp, mortified as memories of your tweets flood back. You remember typing frantically about needing a defibrillator when Woozi appeared shirtless in the music video. "Oh no, those tweets. I can't believe you saw those."

He’s grinning. "It's okay, really. It was kind of sweet to be honest. We all had a good laugh about it."

Peeking through your fingers, you sigh. "Well, now that my embarrassment is out in the open, I guess it’s only up from here, right?"

Woozi grins, a twinkle in his eye. "Absolutely. Besides, it’s nice to know we have mutual fans of each other’s work. It makes this collaboration even more special."

You nod, recalling how your fanbase and Seventeen’s had always gotten along so well. “Our fans really hit it off, didn’t they? It’s like they’ve been rooting for this collaboration all along.”

Woozi smiles and gestures for you to follow him. “Come on, let me show you the Universe Factory.”

Walking into his studio, you’re immediately struck by how incredible it looks. Purple lights cast a calming glow over the space, and the view from the windows is breathtaking. Everything, from the colors to the high-tech equipment, is perfectly arranged. You can tell he put a lot of effort into making this place special.

“Wow, Woozi, this is amazing,” you say, your eyes wide with admiration. “I always saw photos of your studio, but in person, it’s even better.”

“Thanks, but it’s just a studio.” Woozi’s shy smile returns, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes. “I wanted it to be just right for when you got here. I spent the whole week cleaning and moving things around. Even used some scented sprays.”

You laugh, feeling a snugness in your chest. “You didn’t have to go through all that trouble for me, but I appreciate it.”

He shrugs, his smile widening. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”

Woozi shows you some of the instrumentals he’s been working on, and they’re incredible. The beats blend seamlessly with the lyrics you sent him, and you can already hear the potential for something amazing. He’s practically buzzing with enthusiasm to hear how your voice will mesh with his music.

“Let’s get you in the recording room,” Woozi says, leading you to the booth.

You put on the headphones and glance through the glass at Woozi in the control room. As you start warming up your voice, he watches with a small smile. You can see him scoffing lightly, clearly amused by your funny warm-up techniques.

He presses the intercom button. “I’m definitely going to use that later.”

You sulk playfully, giving him a pout. “Come on, don’t make fun of me.”

He laughs, the sound filling the control room. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just cute the way you warm up.”

Rolling your eyes but smiling, you turn your focus to the paper in front of you. Woozi cues up the beat, and you start with a rough draft, feeling your way through the melody. Even in this initial take, Woozi can’t help but feel impressed. Your voice is powerful, yet it fits perfectly with the track.

You glance up occasionally, catching Woozi’s eyes. He gives you a thumbs-up, his appreciation evident even through the glass. As you continue, you find yourself getting lost in the music, and Woozi’s focus never wavers. When you finish, you look up to see him grinning widely.

“That was just the warm-up?” he says, pressing the button again. “I’m really excited to hear the final version.”

You laugh, feeling a rush of confidence. “Yeah, just the warm-up. Wait till you hear the real thing.”

Woozi nods, eyes gleaming with joy. “I can’t wait. Let’s do this.”

You start to sing for real now, fully immersed in the music. The lyrics flow smoothly, and your voice dances effortlessly over the instrumentals. When it comes to a tricky melisma, you frown slightly, pausing to ask Woozi through the intercom;

"Which tone should I use for this part?"

Woozi, equally focused, listens intently as you demonstrate two different versions. Both sound amazing to him, and he takes a moment to think. He taps his chin thoughtfully before pressing the button. "Try the second one, but start a half-step higher and then slide down smoothly."

You nod, absorbing his suggestion. You take a deep breath and try it his way. The moment you hit that melisma, sliding down effortlessly, the note hangs in the air. Woozi’s eyes light up, and he gives you an enthusiastic thumbs-up from the control room.

As you're in the middle of recording, Soonyoung suddenly appears in the studio, his presence bringing an unexpected burst of energy. You catch sight of him through the glass and wave enthusiastically, a big smile spreading across your face. Soonyoung returns the gesture, his excitement palpable even from a distance. He settles on the couch behind Woozi, watching the two of you work with keen interest.

Woozi presses the intercom button and gives you a nod. "Try going a bit higher for the adlibs."

You nod and sing the section, hitting the high notes while looking at Woozi for confirmation. He listens intently, his gaze dark in focus. “You did so good. That was perfect.”

You can hear Soonyoung’s voice from the back. “He never praises us like that.”

Woozi turns in his chair, giving Soonyoung a deadly glare. 

Soonyoung, unphased, grins and stretches as he stands up. “Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted,” he says dramatically, walking toward the door. Just as he’s about to leave, he pauses and turns back. “But after you’re done recording, we’re taking you to dinner Y/N. No excuses.”

You give him thumbs up. Feeling the warmth of their camaraderie. Woozi shakes his head but smiles, turning back to you. 

“Ignore him. Let’s finish this up. You’re doing great.”

After skipping through some tracks, you find yourself sitting in Woozi's incredibly comfortable chair, fiddling with his equipment. The buttons, dials, and sliders are all so intriguing, and you can’t help but feel like a kid in a candy store, discovering new settings and features.

Woozi watches you from a few feet away, arms crossed, a smile playing on his lipsㄧHe knows you’re no stranger to studios and equalizers, but he loves seeing the joy in your eyes as you explore his setup like it’s the coolest thing in the worldㄧHe wonders if your producers ever let you have this much hands-on control.

“Hey, Woozi, how do you tweak the master mix settings here?” you ask, looking up from the console.

He steps forward, moving behind you. His arms come to rest on either side of the chair, effectively caging you in as he leans over to type on the keyboard. 

“You just need to go into this menu,” he says, his voice low and calm. He types swiftly, his fingers dancing over the keys. “Then, adjust the settings here. See?”

You nod, trying to focus on his explanation, but the closeness is overwhelming. You can feel the warmth of his body, his head so close to yours. 

It’s hard to concentrate when you’re not even breathing.

His voice is soft and steady, his breath warm on your skin. You watch his hands move expertly, typing commands and making adjustments with practiced ease. Your heart is pounding so loudly, you’re sure he can hear it.

“And here, you can add some reverb” he continues, “See how that changes the sound?”

No, not when he’s this near.

You nod, feeling a bit dazed. He tells you to try it yourself, and you reach for the adjustment, your hand hovering uncertainly over the controls. Woozi lets go of the mouse and places his hand over yours, guiding it to lower and raise the equalizer. His skin is soft and warm against yours, and the contact almost makes you melt on his chair.

“Like this,” he murmurs, gently moving your hand with his. “Just a little adjustment here and there.”

You can hardly concentrate on the settings, your mind fixated on the sensation of his hand over yours. 

You turn your face slightly toward his, and he looks at you, the proximity between you almost intolerable.

Your eyes lock, and for a moment, the world outside the studio fades away. His gaze is intense, filled with something that makes your breath catch in your throat. Woozi’s hand squeezes yours lightly.

You can feel your pulse quicken. His eyes flicker to your lips for a brief second before meeting your gaze again. The moment stretches, neither of you moves, both caught in the electric current that seems to have taken over the room.

Finally, Woozi clears his throat, breaking the spell but not the connection. "There," he says softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You’ve got it."

As you try to focus on adjusting the settings, Woozi leaves your hand on the side of yours, allowing you to make the changes yourself. You manage to make the adjustments, and as the sound fills the room, Woozi's voice breaks through the silence. "That's it. You're doing great." he praises.

You swear if he praises you again like that, you’re going to fucking wet his chair. You don’t even notice that you’re biting your bottom lip, too lost in the horniness.

Woozi’s words echo in your mind as you try to focus on the task at hand, but it's hard to concentrate with the way his body looks in the black shirt he's wearing. The fabric clings to him in all the right places, emphasizing his toned physique.

Every movement he makes with his hands, seems deliberate and calculated, and you can’t tear your eyes away.

You force yourself to push the distracting thoughts aside, but it's a losing battle.

Your gaze remains fixated on his hands as he places them on the border of the desk, supporting his body. His shoulders brush against the back of your head, and you can feel his presence looming over you. It’s as if he knows exactly what’s passing through your mind.

He brushes a hand over your shoulder, the sensation lingering even after he presses it between his hands in a gentle massage. You feel his lips tentatively brush against the corner of yours.

Caught off guard, you melt into his touch, your fingers intertwining with his as you lean into the kiss. His lips are soft against yours, a perfect match to the warmth of his touch. But when he catches you melting against his hand, he doesn't pull away. Instead, he turns the chair to face him, his hand sliding behind your neck to pull you closer.

His kiss deepens, and you respond eagerly, your hands sliding to each side of his face before tangling in his hair at the back of his neck. The kiss is desperate, as if you’ve both been holding back.

But when you finally break apart, gasping for breath, you realize that you can’t resist any longer. You get up from the chair, his hands desperately grab your waist, pulling your bodies together 

The way he holds your waist makes your tank top bunch up between his fingers, his palms feeling your belly's bare skin. You whimper against his lips, "Hmm, Woozi..."

He pulls back slightly, "Jihoon," he corrects gently, "Call me Jihoon."

Your stomach flutters at the intimacy of calling him by his real name. "Jihoon," you repeat softly, savoring the sound.

He smiles, a soft, almost shy smile that makes your heart skip a beat. Then he leans in again, kissing your cheek, your jaw, and your neck. Each touch of his lips sends you on cloud nine, making you arch against his chest, your hands gripping his bicep for support.

"Jihoon," you murmur again, the name feeling more natural on your lips each time.

His hands move up your sides, sliding under your tank top, his fingers warm against your skin. He pulls the fabric up, and you lift your arms, allowing him to remove it completely. The cool air of the studio contrasts with the heat of his touch, making your nipples harden.

He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes roaming over your body "You're beautiful," he whispers.

You blush, feeling a little shy under his gaze. "You too," you reply, reaching up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

He smiles and pulls you closer, his lips finding yours once more. This kiss is deeper, more urgent, as if he's trying to pour all his feelings into it. You respond with equal fervor, your hands exploring the planes of his chest, and the muscles of his back.

Jihoon’s hands move to your waist again, his fingers brushing the waistband of your jeans. He pauses, looking at you for permission. You nod, your breath hitching in the process.

He unbuttons your jeans, sliding them down your hips and letting them pool at your feet. You step out of them, standing before him in just your underwear. He takes a moment to admire you again, his eyes dark with desire, a little hidden under his long bangs.

You reach for the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and over his head. He helps you, tossing it aside. Your hands explore his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his milky skin, the steady beat of his heart.

This time, his hands roam more freely, exploring every inch of your body. His touch is gentle, yet possessive, as if he's trying to memorize every curve, every contour. After all, he doesn't know when he'll be able to touch you like that again. That is, if there is a next time.

You respond in kind, your hands moving over his body, savoring the feel of his muscles flexing under your fingertips.

He guides you toward the couch, his lips never leaving yours. You lie down, pulling him with you, your bodies molding together perfectly. He kisses his way down your neck, your chest, his lips leaving a trail of saliva in their wake.

"Jihoon," you moan, your hands tangling in his hair as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking gently. The sensation numbs your mind, making you arch against him.

Jihoon makes you relax on his couch, but you suddenly become very aware when his fingers slide your panties to the side, moistening his fingers with your lubrication. He opens his eyes to watch you squirm as your pussy sucks his finger inside without effort. His cold finger fits perfectly inside you, and you can feel him teasing to put another one. You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your moans.

He laughs softly, taking your hand off your mouth. "The studio is soundproof. You can moan as loud as you want."

You mentally thank him because with his fingers now perfectly entering and leaving you, a loud moan escapes your mouth, and the sound of your wet pussy isn't discreet. You're loving the intense gaze he has on you, like you're about to be devoured. He tries to kiss you, but you can only moan as he fingers you.

Jihoon curls his fingers on your g'spot, repeating the motion again and again. You let out a strangled moan, squirming under his touch. "Don't do that, or I'll mess up your sofa," you warn, your voice shaky with pleasure.

He looks at you from under his bangs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I don't care about the sofa," he murmurs, pressing a hand on your lower belly to intensify the curl of his fingers.

The added pressure makes you scream, "Please, please!"

Jihoon smirks, his fingers moving faster inside you. "Please what? Tell me what you need," he demands, his voice commanding.

"Please, Jihoon, I need more," you gasp, your body arching against his hand.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "More of what? My fingers? My mouth?" he asks, his tone teasing.

"Both," you whimper, feeling desperate for more of his touch.

Jihoon chuckles, his lips brushing against your ear. "Greedy, aren't you? But I'll give you what you want," he promises, his fingers curling and pressing against your g'spot with relentless precision.

You cry out, your body trembling. "Jihoon, I'm going to—"

"Do it," he whispers, his calm raspy voice making you bite your bottom lip. "Come for me."

Your hands clutch at the couch as Jihoon's head moves from above you to between your legs. The moment his tongue touches your clit, you can't hold back, and you come almost immediately. 

He stops for a moment, just to admire the sight of you arching your back on his couch, his fingers deep inside you, all wet as you roll your hips on them, moaning in his studio, naked. He never thought it would happen, but he isn't complaining.

You discover he's stronger than you thought when he holds your hips down to keep you in place before he devours your pussy. You roll your eyes at the sensitivity and the sight of his fangs tickling your skin, making you giggle between moans. 

The scene is completely sinful. You prop yourself up on one elbow and hold his hair up to see his face, flushed but with closed eyes, all concentrated on giving you pleasure. You find it incredibly cute, and you can't help but praise him.

"Jihoon, you're doing so good," you murmur, your voice trembling. "You're so focused, it's amazing."

In response, he sucks your clit inside his mouth, making you pull his hair a little. He hisses softly, and you quickly apologize. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

He looks up at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "It's okay," he says, his voice slightly rough. "I like it."

You can't help but moan louder as he resumes his attention to your clit. His fingers continue their relentless rhythm inside you, and you feel the pressure building again.

"Jihoon, please," you gasp, your hips bucking against his hold.

You gasp, and Jihoon stops, making your head fall back as you whine, your orgasm interrupted. He kneels on the couch, lowering his sweatpants and underwear to his thighs. You shake your head, saying, "I want you to take it all off."

He smiles, obliged, then comes completely naked over you. You spread your legs for him, wide, and he slides his cock between your folds, eliciting a whine from you. Still supporting yourself on your elbow, you grab his hair, pulling it slightly, earning a moan from him.

As your tongues wrap around each other, his cock slides inside you, and you open your mouth in a silent moan, your back plopping on the couch. He moans at the sensation of your gummy walls wrapping his cock, sucking him in welcomely. He also smiles, finding your reaction endearing.

Jihoon rolls his hips slowly, letting you adjust to the fullness of his cock. The slow stimulation draws moans from your lips, and you gasp, "Not only do you make amazing music, but you fuck so damn good too."

Jihoon lets out a genuine laugh, his breath warm against your skin. He hides his face in the crook of your neck, so shy, and you pull him back, wanting to see his eyes. He glances at you, amusement shining in his gaze.

"You really know how to flatter a guy," he chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You laugh with him, the sound mingling with the intimate atmosphere around you. "It's true," you say, your voice lighter. 

Jihoon shakes his head, still smiling, but the moment of levity shifts as he feels your walls tighten around him. His smile fades into a look of intense pleasure, his face contorts, and he starts to moan, the sound vibrating through you.

"Oh, God," he groans, his hips picking up a rhythm that makes your breath hitch. "You feel so good."

The sounds of skin slapping, your moans, and the low hum from the computer rendering the music become the backdrop to your intense session with Jihoon. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and your hair spreads wildly across the couch. He can feel your wetness around his cock, spreading to his thighs and the couch. You brace yourself with one hand on the couch's arm, your lips plump and sensitive from the kisses and bites.

Jihoon closes his eyes, focusing solely on the sensation of your pussy. If he keeps looking at how much pleasure you're experiencing, he might come too soon. But you can already sense his cock throbbing inside you.

"Open your eyes," you urge him, catching on.

He opens them, sulking a bit, and you give him a devilish smile. You lick your fingers, sliding them down your body to circle your clit, doubling your pleasure and his. His mouth falls open at the sight.

"Fuck, nooo..." he mumbles, watching your every move.

You revel in the sight of his abs flexing, showing that his orgasm is near. Sensing his impending climax, Jihoon pulls out, giving himself a moment to regain control. When he's ready, he slides back in, making you arch your back and curl your toes, triggering your orgasm instead.

You smile at his audacity, and he grins, seeing that his tactic worked. "F-fuck you… I'm cumming, Jihoon," you warn, closing your eyes as the pleasure builds.

He speeds up his hips, making you stop breathing for a second before a deep moan escapes from your chest. You feel yourself clenching and unclenching around him, your body shuddering as you reach your peak. Panting hard, Jihoon pulls out just in time, spilling his cum on your belly as he strokes his cock. His body trembles, and his eyes lock with yours, his bangs falling over his forehead.

Jihoon takes a long look at your spent body, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "How about a nap before dinner?" he suggests softly.

You close your eyes and nod, feeling the exhaustion settling in. "Right..." he murmurs, getting up from the couch.

You miss the warmth of his body immediately and let out a small whine. He chuckles, "I'm coming back," he assures you as he grabs a box of Kleenex and brings some tissues to clean you up. Gently, he wipes your belly and between your legs, his touch tender.

"I'm glad we finished some songs," he teases, his eyes twinkling. "You don't look like you could continue... at least not today."

You scoff, too tired to come up with a witty response. Jihoon starts dressing you, carefully slipping your top back on, your panties, and leaving your jeans off so you can nap comfortably. Once you're settled, he dresses himself quickly.

From the corner of the studio, he fetches a thin blanket draped over a poltrone. He covers you with it and then lays down beside you, pulling you close.

"You really wore me out," you murmur, a hint of amusement in your voice.

He grins, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Likewise," he says. "But it was worth it."

You let out a contented sigh, feeling more relaxed than you had in a long time. "I can't wait to hear how the songs turn out," you confessed, your voice growing dreamier with each passing moment.

Jihoon hummed in agreement, his fingers resuming their soothing motions on your back. "Me too," he murmured. "But for now, let's just enjoy this."

And so you did. Wrapped in each other's arms, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, you snuggle into him, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you towards sleep. 

[smutoperator]

Art of Escape

Kim Minjeong (Winter), Fukutomi Tsuki x Male Reader

Tags: ahegao, boat sex, creampie, cum licking, doggystyle, dream girlfriend, facial, kissing-and-fucking, (a little) lesbian, mating press, passionate sex, (lots of) oral sex, prone bone, public sex, pussy eating, riding, threesome, voyeurism

Word count: 5155.

Hyundai Yacht Seoul Club, May 9th, 2024

It was just a regular morning for a rich dude like you, anchoring your boat at the Hyundai Yacht Club, completely unaware it was about to host an event for a major brand. As you got there, a blonde girl caught your attention.

Once the event was finished, you approached her. "What's your name?" you asked. "I'm Winter," she said. "Are you sure? Because you're hotter than summer," you told her. "You're not the first to tell me this," she said.

Your first attempt seemed to have backfired, but Winter quickly opened herself up. She was very cute and witty, and you two were quickly talking a lot. After a while, you made an invitation to her.

"Want to ride on my boat?" you asked Winter. "Oh, I would love it," she told you. You detached the boat from the pier and set sail on the river, quickly leaving your boat on autopilot to spend time with Winter on the yacht's main deck. You two had just known each other but were already hugging and kissing like longtime lovers.

"It's so beautiful in here," Winter said about the view. "But is it more beautiful than you?" you asked her, making Winter blush. Her pale skin turning red made her look even prettier. Little did you know, she was about to get much bolder.

"Can I take your pants off?" She asked you, who at first hesitated. "Nobody will see it," she said. Indeed, after the yacht had set sail, you two were just a pair of dots that could barely be seen from the river's banks.

"Let me suck that cock," Winter said to you. Who didn't know such a cute girl could be this naughty? Getting a public blowjob wasn't a fantasy you had on the top of your list, but surely it was quickly rising up your rankings as Winter slowly wrapped her lips around your shaft, kissing and licking it while slowly bobbing her head down it. Her very calm pace of sucking your dick made every licking she gave it even better, as she took her time to run her mouth all over your length.

"I love your taste," Winter said as she kissed your tip. You just gave her free reign, amazed at her great cocksucking skills. Her cute smile contrasted with her sexy tongue, which was making killer moves on your pecker. "Oh, my love, you're so good at that," you told her. "Because I want to have it all," Winter replied.

Winter continued to suck your cock in the middle of the river, not caring about the surroundings. As a matter of fact, if a boat spotted both of you, even better. The cute girl turned into a naughty slut when no one was looking. Her mouth was full of cock, just the way she liked it. But little did she know she had company alongside her on the yacht itself.

"You seem to be enjoying it, Minjeong unnie," Tsuki said out of nowhere. She had followed Winter and you to the boat and was watching her sucking your cock for a couple minutes. "Who is she? Also, Minjeong? Didn't you tell me your name was Winter?" you asked. At the event in the yacht club, you were so focused on Winter that you forgot there was another girl beside her at the event. 

"Her name is Tsuki; she was at the Polo event with me. And yeah, my real name is Minjeong; Winter is just the stage name." Winter explained. "So, are you a model? Actress?" you tried to guess. "Well, not quite; we are singers," she continued. "I wish I had seen her there, because she's very cute as well," you told Winter. "So, Tsuki, do you want to join us?" you asked back.

"You didn't even have to ask," Tsuki replied. "Come here and try it," Winter said to her. "Wow!" Tsuki was impressed by the size of your cock. "She's good, isn't she?" Winter asked you. "Very good," you replied.

But more than Tsuki's abilities to suck cock, what impressed you the most were her facial expressions while doing so. They were a treat on their own. The way she rolled her eyes and moved her facial muscles with your cock in her throat was something else. You weren't aware it was what made her famous in the first place, so it was fairly new to you to see a girl sucking cock while making such crazy expressions.

Tsuki, let Winter have your cock again. Even without it in her mouth, she kept doing her crazy moves, especially while licking your shaft to the side. Her and Winter shared a kiss with your tip right in the middle of it, making you go crazy. "That's such a dream," you told them.

After a couple more minutes of cock-sucking, Winter and Tsuki stripped themselves naked and started kissing each other. You watched them before you took your clothes off yourself. "You like that?" Winter asked as Tsuki gave her a big smile. The two kept the kissing going, with Winter now moving her mouth all over Tsuki's neck, which made the Japanese girl pull off another hot facial expression. 

"She's so tall and pretty." Winter praised Tsuki's visuals as she now kissed her bare tits. "So beautiful," she said, massaging Tsuki's boobs further, a move she was very well-versed at after doing it so often to Karina in Aespa's dorm rooms.

"I'm getting so horny massaging her tits," Winter tells you. "Me too," Tsuki says right after. "Me too," you say, but it takes too long, as the girls are back into kissing each other under your watch.

You soon join the fun, surprising Tsuki from behind as you run your hands into her body. "Ready to share her?" Winter asks you before commanding Tsuki to lay down on her back.

Tsuki spreads her legs and lies down, showing off the fat outer lips on her pussy. "Such a pretty pussy," Winter tells you as she bends over. "I wanna taste it," she says, diving down the Japanese girl's folds. Tsuki rolls her eyes and keeps doing her facial expression show. "Let's try it together," Winter kisses you as you take your first dibs into Tsuki's clit.

Winter moves into kissing Tsuki's thighs, letting you take care of her pussy by yourself. Tsuki starts to moan as she now looks like an anime character with their eyes closed. But things get even hotter as a trio of lips now share a kiss: yours, Winter's, and Tsuki's pussy.

You and Winter move your tongues together along Tsuki's folds, paying special attention to her clit. Tsuki just moans as both of you move your tongues up and down her folds, blowing the air from your noses into her insides. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would be kissing such a beautiful girl while licking another's cunt at the same time. This feels like heaven on Earth.

Winter and you trade blows eating Tsuki's pussy. It turns out Winter's oral skills aren't just applicable to cocks; she really knows how to eat a pussy well, feasting all over Tsuki's meaty folds, making them throb and pulse each time she licks them. Winter does it so well that you make sure to kiss her as soon as she is done, trying to taste as much as you can of Tsuki's pussy flavor in her mouth.

Minjeong spreads Tsuki's pussy lips further for you to tongue the Japanese girl even deeper. You two keep teaming up as Tsuki's moans grow louder. "Wow, I've never had my pussy eaten like this before," Tsuki says. Winter is clearly the star of the show; her kissing and tonguing of Tsuki's pussy are otherworldly and drive the Japanese girl wild.

"I think he wants some attention too," Winter says, letting Tsuki stand up to kiss you. Minjeong is truly selfless, putting her partner's pleasure over hers. Tsuki and her team up on your cock once again, but Winter goes straight to your balls, letting Tsuki take your shaft all by herself. Groans come out of your mouth as they prove to be a killer combo, with Winter even trying to match Tsuki's ahegao antics while engulfing your testicles.

"Fuck," you curse for the first time as Tsuki deepthroats you and gives you a big smile, bobbing her head without needing to use her hands to work on your shaft. Down low, Winter is just amazing, heating up your balls perfectly while letting Tsuki lick your shaft like an ice cream.

"I want it too," Winter says in a rare selfish act, snatching your cock away from Tsuki. I can't blame her. That shaft is just too big not to get a good taste of Minjeong's sexy mouth. Winter is really horny, her nipples already fully erected as she fulfills her public sex fantasies staring at the amazing views from the Han River.

Winter clearly brings some extra heat compared to the first time sucking your cock. Tsuki smiles as she watches Minjeong go full slutty for your big dick, kissing you while massaging your balls. Winter stays focused, showing off how well she has perfected the art of oral sex. On and off the stage, Winter is a real ace.

"Wow, she's so hungry," Tsuki says as she takes another turn on your cock. Winter doesn't rest, though, going right back towards more ball-licking. "Oh my God, you two are killing me," you tell them. "Glad you like it," Winter says.

You passionately kiss Winter's cock-flavored mouth. She truly feels like a girl who's from another universe, sent by some mystical creature that wanted to bless you. It doesn't hurt that she has a hot, sexy friend as well.

"Let's take it together," Winter says as Tsuki and her team up to lick your shaft. The girls get their mouths close to each other and lick your snake like a pair of snakes poisoning their prey. Tsuki moves down to your balls while Winter keeps licking that hard pole. Even the birds want to watch them work on your cock as a few land on your yacht, just as the two beautiful girls increase their pace of sucking.

"Suck that cock," Winter tells Tsuki using a soft voice, pushing the Japanese girl's head down that dick before doing it herself. The two keep taking turns getting your cock covered in spit. Until Minjeong finally tells her next move.

"I want it inside me," Winter says to you. "Ohhh, you're really horny today, unnie," Tsuki says right after. "Come to me," you tell Winter, putting her head on Tsuki's belly, who assists you by inserting your cock right at Winter's pussy.

You groan the moment you get inside Minjeong. Her walls are ultra tight and squeeze you right from the beginning. You slowly push it up as Tsuki fingers Winter's pussy. "Get deeper inside me," Winter demands. "Let me see that big cock penetrating my pussy," she continues.

"Put it all in. Fuck me," Winter says. She's so cute giving you those commands; her nipples are fully hard as Tsuki rubs her hands on them. You two quickly develop great chemistry as you passionately fuck Minjeong, as she sexily moans every time your cock bulges under her skinny belly.

"It feels so good," Winter moans as you get deeper inside her tight pussy, picking up the pace as you share kisses with Tsuki before moving down to kiss Winter herself. "I love your cock," Minjeong tells you, who never thought missionary fucking could be this hot.

"I want more; take it deep in my pussy," Winter cutely commands. You happily oblige, as if you were using the keys to open the gates of heaven every time you stretch her out. The clapping noises emanate from her body as you fuck her faster and harder.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah," Winter keeps moaning as you go even deeper. "Yes, fuck me," she moans again as Tsuki rubs her. You get addicted to her pussy. "You like it?" you ask her. "Yes, I love it so much," Minjeong replies. Everything about her is so genuine. 

"Fuck that pussy, ahhhhh," Winter demands. You are amazed at how cute she still looks, even with that long cock deep in her cunt. Winter becomes fully submissive to your cock as you now pound her in a mating press. "Ahhhh, such a big, big cock," she says, emphasizing your size.

"Ahhh, make my pussy cream," Winter orders to you. Her juices can be seen at your shaft every time you pump out of her hole. You take her balls deep as she praises your cock every time you hit it in her cunt. "Ahhhh, you're so deep inside me," she continues.

"Keep going, all the way in," Winter says. You fuck her harder than ever. "Yeah, yeah, just stretch that pussy," she continues. You can't focus on anything except pounding it. Tsuki becomes just an afterthought in the background as your eyes are all on Minjeong. And more than your eyes, your cock is hyperfocused on destroying her tight pink pussy.

Winter's walls squeeze your cock just as you kiss her beautiful lips. You can't resist anymore, and you paint her insides white. It feels like you fucked her for over an hour, but you could barely last for five minutes inside her tight pussy.

But Minjeong isn't done. "I want to cum all over that cock," she tells you, making you put your cock back in her cream-filled pussy and quickly regain your erection. "Make me cum, baby," Winter tells you, who slowly fucks her pussy as a mix of cum and juices coats your shaft, with Winter getting closer to orgasm as Tsuki rubs her perky little tits and kisses Minjeong's moaning mouth.

"Faster, baby," Winter says as her voice gets more and more out of breath. She fingers herself and starts cumming nonstop as you kiss her while burying your big cock deep in her pussy. The warmth of her wet insides filled with your cum is such an amazing feeling that you make sure to enjoy every second of it.

"And now me?" Tsuki asks as you finally pull out of Winter. "My friend can't wait," Minjeong comments. "I'm very horny, just like you," Tsuki says. "Then come here," you tell her, after giving Winter's pussy a final kiss.

Tsuki gets on all fours as you and Winter rub your hands over her body, paying special attention to her cute butt. "Put your dick inside me; I need it," she says. After a little tease, you grant her wish, with just the feeling of your tip inside her cunt making Tsuki moan.

You and Winter share kisses as you slowly thrust inside Tsuki's pussy. Once again, Tsuki pulls off an incredible show with her facial expressions. But Winter's smile as you fuck her friend is just as good. You let Winter have a taste of your cock, now mixed with her juices and Tsuki's. Winter savors it for a good 30 seconds before putting your shaft back inside Tsuki.

Tsuki closes her eyes and moans even harder as Winter puts her tongue in the Japanese girl's asshole. "Fuck my pussy and eat my ass out, ahhhh" is all Tsuki can say in between more and more moans. "You like it?" Winter asks Tsuki. "Yes," she replies, struggling to even say those simple words as you put extra heat in her pussy.

Winter lays down in front of Tsuki, letting her friend finger her perfect pink pussy. "Come here, baby," Tsuki tells her, pushing Winter's body further close as she dives into Minjeong's pussy. Just as she does it, you pick up the pace much further. Tsuki smiles as your cock makes her pussy cream and her mouth makes Winter's do the same.

"That's so fucking good," Tsuki says as you pump her pussy harder and make her tits jiggle. "You look so pretty getting fucked like this," Winter tells her. She buries her face in Winter's pussy even further in response. "Hmmm, you like that big cock inside that pussy, don't you?" Winter asks. Tsuki answers positively, but it gets muffled by her mouth being all over Minjeong's folds.

"She's such a good girl, being the perfect sleeve for that cock," Winter says about Tsuki to you. "Ahhh, fuck," Tsuki moans as Minjeong does it. You rub your hands all over Tsuki's ass, giving it a little tap. "You like to be slapped?" you ask her. "Hmmmm," Tsuki says.

"Make her pussy cream; slap her hard," Winter orders you, who obviously follow. Tsuki's pale skin is built to get slapped; you love how quickly her ass turns heads. "Ouch!" she screams as you tap her sensitive and cute ass. Winter and her share kisses as you pound Tsuki hard and deep.

"I've never done something like this before," Winter tells Tsuki as she massages her tits. "Me too," Tsuki says, already out of breath as you keep fucking her. "Show her who's in control; get on top of her," Winter orders you, ready to get much spicier.

You mount on top of Tsuki while your cock is still deep in her pussy. "Oh, fuck," Tsuki says as she's about to get turned into a submissive cocksleeve. You and Winter kiss each other as she enjoys watching Tsuki get plowed. But no one enjoys it more than the Japanese fucktoy, who smiles and makes a lot of naughty faces as you manhandle her cunt.

"YEAH. OH. OH. OH. OH." Tsuki moans. "Fuck her like she's your bitch," Winter keeps demanding. You hammer Tsuki like a bull while staring at Minjeong's beautiful and lustful eyes. Tsuki just closes her eyes as her pussy gets utterly destroyed. "OH MY GOD," she says as you pound her to submission, looking now at the perfect sight of her body on all fours while Winter licks her chops, wishin she was at Tsuki's place.

"Put it back; I want more," Tsuki asks when you give her a little relief. She rests her head on the boat's floor as you keep plowing her, fingering herself as she approaches her orgasm. "Yes, yes, yes," Tsuki says in a barely audible manner, her mouth fully open like the one of an onahole. 

But you just can't stop fucking that juicy and tight Japanese pussy. Winter gives Tsuki's head a little kiss and then asks her, "Ready to cum?" Tsuki can't even answer as she looks at you, fucking her like a toy and wishing you could do this to her forever. "Keep going like that," she says, but her voice is so weak now that you barely hear it.

"I'm gonna cum," Tsuki whispers, but loud enough for both of you to hear. Winter loves when those words come from her mouth, making a shocked expression of her own. "Make her cum," she just says, smiling as she watches Tsuki close her eyes and open her mouth to the fullest as her pussy creams all over your cock. With it still deep inside her, you give Tsuki short but fast thursts. "HMMM. HMMM. HMMM. HMMM. HMMMM," she moans, reaching her orgasm with your cock hitting all the way into her cervix.

"Oh God," Tsuki says with a big smile on her face as she stares at you. But Winter is quick to give you another kiss as you slow down until you pull out of Tsuki. "Come here to taste it." You stand up and tell both girls as they get on their knees, ready to worship that cock. Winter arrives first on the scene. "Let me taste your pussy," she tells Tsuki, sucking your big cock without using her hands. Tsuki then follows suit as the two sloppily bob their heads on your prick before placing it in between their mouths.

"Stay like this," you tell the girls, who smile at each other. Winter is the happiest one, as she looks behind and sees you getting ready to take her pussy again, this time from behind. You line your cock up against her entrance so perfectly that you don't even need to use your hands to adjust. Minjeong closes her eyes as her pussy gets slowly stretched out.

"Ahhhh," Winter moans with a sexy smile on her face. You take it slow as her moans get more prolonged with each thrust you give her. "Tell me about it," Tsuki asks Minjeong. "It's... so... big," it's all she can say. But it's the truth after all, as she enjoys your nine-inch monster stretching her out in a prone-bone position. "Ok," Tsuki tells her in such a manner that you can tell she's bragging about taking it like a champion just moments ago.

Winter kisses Tsuki as your cock gets deeper and deeper inside her. You're very passionate, not wanting to hurt your beautiful lover. "Even full of dick, you still look so cute, Minjeong unnie," Tsuki says. She's telling the truth. Winter is truly capable of being the cutest girl in the world, no matter what she's doing.

Winter gets surprised when you finally commit to getting into the depths of her cunt. "Ahhhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhh," she lets out successive moans. But you stay deep inside her as Minjeong's walls clench around your cock. "Oh, my God," she says. You don't even need to thrust inside her anymore; your meat and her cunt are perfectly interlocked now. It's like the sword in the stone myth, and whoever manages to pull you out of Minjeong will be crowned king.

"This is so good; you're so tight," you tell Winter. "I'm curious to see how your friend takes it," you continue, moving sideways to take on Tsuki next. "She's ready for you." Winter says this as you two kiss each other again.

Tsuki softly moans, as she's next in line. The slow pumps you give her already make her roll her eyes. Winter smiles as she stares at Tsuki, who's struggling to take your cock deep in her pussy. "Yesss, ahhhhh," Tsuki moans as you start clapping against her cheeks. Winter, as the dream girlfriend, gets all the kisses. Meanwhile, for the slutty Tsuki, all she gets is pounding after pounding from your hard cock.

You quickly increase the speed, brining a lot of heat into Tsuki's pussy, her body getting pressed to the floor at each thurst. Winter never thought of herself as a voyeur before, but she really enjoys watching her friend get plowed. "Ohhh, God, fuck," Tsuki says as you pin her completely to the floor, stretching your hands to grope her perky tits.

"YESSS, AHHHH, AHHHH," Tsuki moans under Winter's watchful eyes. At this point, Minjeong is licking her chops, amazed as she watches both of you engage in a torrid sex session. Tsuki is really the perfect fucktoy to pound against the floor of your boat, as she covers it with the juices leaking out from her pussy. "You're hitting her so deeply; I love it," Winter says. Tsuki can only laugh to hide how she gets increasingly sensitive and throbs harder at each new thrust you give her.

"So deep, I like that," Tsuki says as you get completely on top of her, all while sharing kisses with Winter. Her eyes roll, and her tongue sticks out as you make her cum. "That's so good, oh yeah," Tsuki says, barely able to feel her legs now. You even give her a double massage: your hands press her shoulders up top while your meat presses her cunt down low. Even after she cums, Tsuki wants more. "Go back, please," she tells you, who obliges and gives her a few extra thrusts into her throbbing vagina, kissing her and Winter when you're finally done.

"I want something from you girls now," you tell them. "One of them is riding my cock while the other sits on my face," you say. Tsuki kisses you and quickly offers the pussy you just destroyed for you to savor. Winter dives into your cock and warms it up for the ride of her life. The Japanese girl gets the early pleasure, as you are already licking her folds before Winter can even position herself to get impaled by your monster cock.

Winter starts riding your cock, and you feel blessed. The view. The girls. The sex. This day couldn't have gone more perfect for you. It feels like heaven to have two girls using your body as a way to please themselves to the fullest.

As you tongue Tsuki's pussy harder, Minjeong increases the pace of her ride. Their moans blend with each other, and you can't tell which one is getting the most pleasure. But by the way their folds gush all over your tongue and cock, you can tell they are having a lot of it. Tsuki runs her hands over Winter's pale butt as the snow girl gives you such a hot ride that it could make your cock melt. "You're working on this cock so well," Tsuki says, impressed at Minjeong's riding skills.

Winter spreads her cheeks as she lets you thrust upwards against her tight pussy. Every time you get to hit her cervix, she lets out an out-of-breath moan, and her asshole involuntarily winks. Loud noises come out as the hips of both of you clash against each other. Minjeong doesn't hold back, meeting your thursts full of enthusiasm and moaning the loudest she's done so far.

The riding keeps going on as Minjeong shows no signs of slowing down. Out of all positions, cowgirl might be her favorite. She loves the feeling of taking control and stuffing herself full of cock, and she seems to be easily winning the battle now, bouncing on your pole at full speed and enjoying when Tsuki pushes her further down and impales her to the max against your cock.

More time passes by, and Winter keeps going on with her cock-riding show. You and Tsuki basically forget about anything, taking all your focus away from watching the Queen Minjeong ride spectacle. Winter feels flaunted as all eyes are on her, giving all her effort. She is truly the living proof of the planet getting warmer than ever, because you've never seen a hotter Winter than the one on top of your cock.

Tsuki gets out of your face to take a privileged seat at Winter, making your cock melt. The Japanese girl masturbates herself as watching Minjeong get impaled proves to be a massive turn-on for her. "Ahhhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhh, Oh my God, Oh my God," Winter manages to outdo herself in cuteness once again, coming up with the softest moans you've seen. Tsuki watches all of it, all her fingers now deep in her cunt. Both she and Winter closed their eyes at the same time and even managed to say the same words together:

"I AM. CUMMING.".

Winter's legs get weaker as she rests her body on top of yours, only to be surprised by a gush of squirt coming off Tsuki's pussy. You're so addicted to her pussy you don't pull out at any moment, kissing Minjeong as her face gets within your range and giving her waist and butt a little massage. Winter finally pulls out, staring at Tsuki creaming herself, and then gives the Japanese girl the final command.

"Finish him," Winter tells her, getting your cock wet for one final round of pussy pounding. Her heavenly mouth almost makes Minjeong fulfill her own command by herself, as you have to pinch yourself not to cum. Tsuki saves you at the last second, offering you her tits and mouth for you to kiss. 

Tsuki gets a taste of your cock before she sits on it. Doing so in reverse cowgirl, she tells who the audience of her cock-riding show will be: she wants to do it looking at Minjeong's beautiful face and show her first and foremost her best facial expressions.

Winter pushes Tsuki's hair down to get a better view of her face as the Japanese girl finally takes a sit on your prick. Tsuki rides it as Winter stares at her stretched-out pussy. You two put on a great show for Minjeong to watch as Tsuki runs her hands all over your shaft while bouncing on it. Winter stays with one hand fully attached to her pussy, the other rubbing your thighs to get you even closer to the edge.

You grab Tsuki's waist, trying to tame her, but she barely flinches. Fully committed to the mission Winter gave her, she rides you even harder, massaging your balls to add some extra spice. Winter aides her, licking her chops as she sees some sticky liquids straight out of Tsuki's cunt coating your shaft.

"Fuck him hard, make him cum," Winter keeps ordering as Tsuki gets your cock inside her all the way down to your balls. You start losing control and plow upwards against her pussy, making splashy noises when you hit her deep, as her cunt is extremely wet now. Tsuki opens her mouth to the fullest every time you hit her cervix, her ahegao getting crazier the more cock she takes.

Tsuki turns into a moaning mess as you two fuck like crazy animals. Winter can't believe what she's seeing, making shocked expressions as she watches you stuff Tsuki's cunt. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM," Tsuki says as her legs close and she starts orgasming, expelling your cock out of her pussy. "Put it back, put it back," she demands, her voice completely lost at this point. Tsuki masturbates herself as she creams all over your cock.

"Wow, that's beautiful," Winter says as Tsuki opens her legs back up. Minjeong places her hand over her lips and licks her chops as the intense pounding gets replaced by a passionate fucking, with Tsuki making one final wish.

"I want to see your cum covering all of my face," she tells you. As soon as you pull out, you start jerking off to Winter and Tsuki faces side by side. It doesn't take long before blasts of semen come out of your dick and paint Tsuki's face white as she sticks her tongue out in glee after you grant her wish.

Winter quickly comes up and licks the cum from Tsuki's face as the two swap it in their mouths in front of you. "Thanks; that was amazing," Minjeong kindly says. "I can't wait to rock your boat again," Tsuki completes.

The girls get dressed as you bring them back to where it all started. As they leave your boat at the yacht club, it seems like another typical fashion event for the brand they were endorsing.

But the truth is, in that day, Kim Minjeong and Fukutomi Tsuki mastered the art of escape. 

------------------------------

I'd like to give a shoutout to @haiabd as they wrote a very similarly themed smut also featuring Winter and that boat event from last month. We went with slightly different focuses and partners (I picked Tsuki, they picked Chaewon, their smut features anal, mine doesn't). But every time something like this happens, I mention the other author. In the end, I wholeheartedly agree with them when they started their story saying: "These Winter pics are so good so I had to write about them", so I did the same.

[slut4hee]

I Can Keep A Secret, Can You?

{Paring: Idol Heeseung x Blk Fem! Reader ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

{Genre: smut, nda signing, secret relationship, 18+ so (mdni).

{Synopsis: You joined a fan sign raffle for a chance to speak to the members of Enhypen, but specifically your ult bias Lee Heeseung. You joined for the heck of it, not thinking you would win but to your luck you did. Not only did you get a chance to speak face to face with Heeseung, you got to sign an nda with him…

{Warnings: Softdom heeseung, sub reader, rough sex, unprotected sex, (use protection my lovelies), oral ( f receiving), big dick hee, kissing, titty play, doggystyle, fingering, breeding kink, creampie, cum eating, squirting, dirty talk, pet names.

You screamed to the top of your lungs, as you read the email stating that you won an entry to an in person Enhypen fan signing event, in Seoul South Korea. You couldn’t believe what you were reading right now, you out of all people got selected to meet the Enhypen face to face, in the flesh.

You’ve always been a big fan of Enhypen, being that you’ve been supporting them since I-land, and you literally own every single one of their albums and posters. You loved all the members of Enhypen, but there was one particular member you loved a little bit more.

Lee Heeseung, he was your ult bias and you were so in love with him. You’ve been biasing Heeseung since the beginning, and you have all of his photo cards, as well as his pictures and posters all over your wall. The fact that you will get to meet and speak with Heeseung in person, has all types of butterflies erupting in your stomach and so many emotions going through your head all at once.

You quickly started searching for flights to Korea, and browsing many hotels and airbnbs. Finally after hours of looking for the perfect hotel and the appropriate flight, you booked them both squealing in excitement as you jumped up and down on your bed. You got ready for bed, but you knew sleep wouldn’t come so easily for you, because of how excited and shocked you were, you couldn’t wait for the day to come.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

Fast forward, it’s now been a week since you found out you’re going to meet Enhypen in person, to meet Heeseung in person. You are now in Seoul, and you’re currently in your hotel room, doing your makeup and getting ready to head to fan sign. That’s right, today is the day your dreams come true and you couldn’t be more happier. You honestly still can’t believe you won the freaking fan sign, and on top of that you get to visit South Korea, one of your dream destinations.

You finally finished your makeup, going with a natural yet soft pink look. You also wore a cute little light pink crop top, with a denim mini skirt showing off your beautiful curves, and you styled your hair in a slicked back bun, your edges laying nicely. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, admiring your beauty loving how your makeup and hair turned out, you hoped Heeseung would think the same.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

You’re now standing in line, waiting to enter the building. Your nerves are all over the place and your heart is racing in anticipation as you wait to go inside. It’s really fucking happening, you thought to yourself as reality sets in that you’re about to be face to face with 7 Korean men you’ve only seen on tv, and in concert.

Finally after what felt like eternity, the line moves as the staff starts letting people in, you practiced deep breaths, as you make your way inside the venue, you’re so nervous and anxious you don’t know what to expect. You made it in, and a staff member checks your invitation, before leading you to your seat in the front.

Your heart beats out of your chest, when you realize just how close you are to the stage. Your hands trembled as you held up your phone to snap a picture of the stage. Just as you’re about to take the picture, the crowd of engenes burst into a fit of screams, shouting the members names as they arrived on stage.

You smiled with excitement, waving and screaming for the members as they introduced themselves and bowed to the crowd. Your eyes were on Heeseung the whole time, you couldn’t believe how much more handsome and ethereal he looked in person. Suddenly Heeseung made eye contact with you, his stare lingering a little longer before he turned away smirking to himself.

Did Heeseung just smirk at me, you thought to yourself as you try to process what just happened. Not long after you were being called up for your turn to interact with the members. You started with Jungwon, telling him how much you adored him, and appreciated all his hard work as a leader.

Then it was Sunoo, you expressed how much you enjoyed his vocals and how beautiful he was. Finally after speaking to the rest of the members you then made it to Heeseung. Your palms are sweaty and your knees felt stiff, as you take your seat in front of him. Heeseung gazes at you, studying your facial features.

“Oh my god, Heeseung I love you so much I’m sorry I just don’t know what to I-“ you tripped over your words, feeling nervous from his intense gaze and the fact you are sitting right in front of him, is a bit overwhelming. Heeseung smiled brightly at you, showing off his pearly white teeth, as he reached his hand to hold yours. You were a little taken aback by his sudden move, but you quickly complied, holding his hand with yours.

“Tell me your name princess” he smirked, swaying both of your hands back and forth. You blushed hard at the pet name, not being able to hold eye contact with him. He noticed that, as he titled his head to the side a little as he waited for you to answer his question.

“My name is Y/n, I came all the way from the U.S to meet you Heeseung” you explained with enthusiasm, a wide grin displaying your face. As you both continued to talk, you noticed how Heeseung listened so attentively at what you had to say, and you weren’t so sure, but you would think that Heeseung was into you, by the way he seemed so interested in your day to day life.

Unfortunately it was time to move on to the next fan, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that it went by so quickly. You expressed your love and appreciation towards Heeseung one last time before standing up to take your leave. What you didn’t notice was that Heeseung was watching you the whole entire time as you walked back to your seat, not even noticing that the next fan had sat in front of him.

Heeseung knew he had to have you, you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he couldn’t deny you intrigued him so much, it was just something about you that he couldn’t quite grasp, but he was determined to have you in his bed by the end of the night. So he quickly called over one of the staff members, whispering something in their ear. The staff member nodded in agreement before walking off.

As you’re grabbing your things getting ready to leave, you feel someone tap you on your shoulder catching your attention. You looked up to see a Tall Korean gentleman with a black mask covering his face. You looked at him confused, wondering if you done something wrong.

“Miss if you don’t mind, would you be willing to follow me to the backstage” he asked you politely, you looked at him a little suspiciously, wondering why on earth would he be asking you to come backstage with him.

“I don’t understand, did I do something wrong?” You asked him, feeling nervous and anxious. The man quickly shook his head no, you immediately felt relief wash over you, hoping you didn’t say or do anything to make any of the members feel uncomfortable.

“No miss you’ve done nothing wrong, it’s just” he leaned in closer to whisper in your ear. “One of the members has requested your presence backstage” he replied, you stared at him in a state of shock, trying to process the words that just came out of his mouth. You wondered which one of the members actually asked for you backstage.

“U-Uh okay” you stuttered, feeling a little skeptical and worried, you were just hoping you weren’t being tricked and you’re actually being led to your death. Only one way to find out right? The man nodded, as you followed him backstage.

Finally he stopped at a door, that had a sign on it that said “Staff Only” You swallowed down your nerves, as you prepared yourself for the worst. The gentleman opened the door and behind it was two other Korean gentleman, who were sitting at a desk, one of them holding a stick of papers.

“Please come in and take a seat please” the man with the stack of papers said, as he gestured you towards the seat. You gulped before taking a seat. The man then laid the stack of papers in front of you, as well as a pen. You looked up at him confused, why was he handing you a contract??

“I know this is a bit out of the blue Miss Y/n, but it seems that one of our Artists has taken a liking to you and has requested for a one night stand with you” the man spoke with seriousness in his tone, you stared at him wide eyed, did he just say what you think he just said. You looked down at the paper in front of you, and at the top of it read the words “𝑵𝑫𝑨” in bold letters.

“Umm may I ask which artist has requested for me” you replied, as you shifted in your seat, feeling a little uncertain about this whole situation. The other man then spoke, you recognized him before, you’ve seen him with the members when you saw them at their world tour.

“My apologies, let me introduce myself. My name is Park Sunwoo and I’m the manager for Enhypen. And to answer your question, Lee Heeseung has requested for you Miss Y/n” he nodded. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when he said that, the Lee Heeseung wanted to sign an NDA with you?!

“Before we get started, I do want to let you know that you have every right to decline this offer Miss Y/n. But for me to further explain any more information about this, I would need you to sign your signature on this line right here on the paperwork” he pointed to the line, indicating that you sign your name. You bit your lip nervously, debating whether you should sign it or not.

But when will you ever get the opportunity to have a one night stand with Heeseung, when will you get the chance to do anything like this. You’ve never been the one to do one night stands, or just give up your goodies the first time you meet a guy, but this was so much different. This was Lee Heeseung from Enhypen we’re talking about it, so without any further thought you signed your name on the paper.

“Very well then. Thank you so much for agreeing to the terms Miss Y/n, I will now explain how this whole process works. So you have agreed to signing an NDA, with Artist Lee Heeseung. This means that whatever You and Lee Heeseung decide to do tonight is strictly prohibited from the public eye, do you wish to continue?” He asked, scanning through the pages of the paperwork.

“Yes, I-I do” you responded, fiddling with your fingers. This was just too much to process, you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t a little excited though. He then flipped to the last page of the contract.

“Going forward, we also want to make you aware that failing to comply with the rules of the contract is automatic breach, that goes for both parties. So without further ado, would you please sign your name one last time and we can move forward” Your trembling hands grabbed ahold of the pen, signing your name on the line once again.

“Great, everything has been finalized. We would be contacting you with information regarding your evening plans with Heeseung, once your background check comes back clean. Thank you for your time Miss Y/n” Park Sunwoo stood up to shake your hand. You shook his hand and thanked him before you were led out the back exit.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

As you got back to your hotel, you had been checking your phone nonstop, feeling anxious and impatient. Finally your phone dinged with a notification, and you grabbed your phone so fast, opening your messages.

Unknown Number: Hello, Miss Y/n. Just informing you that your background check came back clean, and I will now be sending over a personal driver to pick you up from your hotel, to bring you to Heeseung’s private accommodation.

You: Oh okay, thank you so much.

Ten minutes later, you received another text from an unknown number, stating that they’re waiting for you down at the lobby. You quickly grabbed your things, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, before heading downstairs. You were now in the back of a Black Mercedes Benz Van, with the windows tinted. Not shorty after, you were pulling into a parking lot of very nice modern style Airbnb.

“We have arrived” the man hopped out of the driver’s seat to open your passenger seat door for you. You thanked him and smiled, and he bowed before getting back into the van and driving off.

You nervously walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. Not long after, none other than Heeseung himself answered the door. You gasp inaudible at the sight of Heeseung clad in a white tank top, gray sweats pants, and his hair damp from the shower you assumed he just finished.

“Come in please” he moved to the side to let you by. You nervously walked into the house, taking in the scenery of the place. It was nice and cozy and looked lived in. It’s like Heeseung read your mind when he said “This is my place actually, I stay here when I’m not out on schedules or on vacations” he nodded and smiled, as he walked closer to you.

“It’s really beautiful Hee, I love it” you blushed shyly, feeling a little hot from the close proximity of your bodies almost touching. “Hee?” He questioned as he smirked and wrapped his arms around your waist. You damn near melted, your knees feeling like they’re going to give out on you any minute now.

“I-I mean Heeseung, sorry it’s like a nickname all of us fans call you” you stuttered, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. Heeseung chuckled, biting his lip, then leaning down to be face level with you because he towers over you. You’d breath hitched, as you feel his lips ghosting over yours.

“Is this okay, do you mind if I kiss you baby girl” he spoke lowly, his voice sounding husky and laced with desire. You whimpered, feeling your arousal starting to leak through your panties.

“God yes, yes you can kiss me plea-“ before you could even finish your sentence, Heeseung’s lips crashed against yours, kissing you with hunger and fervor. You moaned into the kiss, when you felt Heeseung’s hands gripping your ass. You let out a yelp, when Heeseung suddenly picked you up leading you to the bedroom.

“Fuck, you don’t know how bad i want you baby, fucking took everything in me not to pull you into one of the dressing rooms and fuck you stupid” he groaned, laying you on the bed as he got on top of you, attacking your lips once again. You could only moan in response, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Heeseung, please I need you please do something” you begged shamelessly, still not processing that you’re about to fuck Lee Heeseung, someone you thought you would never have the chance to meet, but here you were about to get your brains fucked out by him.

“Shhh, patience baby I’m gonna give you what you want” he smirked, as he started to undress you. He tugged your top off, and unclasp your bra effortlessly starting to suck on your brown nipple, his other hand fondling the other. You arched your back, rubbing your thighs together trying to gain some type of friction.

“God baby, you’re so fucking sexy gotta taste your sweet little cunt now” he growled, tugging your panties off and spreading your legs wide. You whined, when he dragged his long fingers through your wet folds, sliding his finger inside.

“Fuck, this slutty pussy so tight, fuck can’t wait to stuff you full of my cock mama” he hissed, as he watched the way your tight pussy sucked his finger in. He then leaned down to lick a stripe of your pussy, licking and sucking your clit softly.

“Oh my fucking god, shit Hee baby feels so good” you screamed in pleasure, your legs shaking uncontrollably, as you grabbed ahold of his fluffy hair. His wet tongue felt like heaven on your pussy and you couldn’t get enough.

“Shit baby, wet little pussy taste so good, fuck I could eat your sweet cunt forever” he groaned, the vibration sending a shock of pleasure through you, you gripped his locks a little harder, feeling your climax approaching dangerously.

“Ughh, fuck Hee I’m g-gonna cum” you cried out, your legs trembling as the band in your stomach threatens to snap any minute.

“Cum for me, cream on my face pretty little slut” he flicked his tongue faster against your clit, plunging his fingers deep inside your tight pussy. Not long after you were coming undone on his mouth and fingers, squirting your essence everywhere. Heeseung cursed under his breath at the sight of your spent pussy, leaking out your juices.

“Damn sweetheart, that was so hot I’m so hard I need to feel you wrapped around my cock” he whined, as he quickly rid himself of his clothes, showing off his perfectly lean build, and his long hard cock that leaks precum from the tip. You mouth watered at the sight, as you grabbed his dick stroking him slowly.

“Ah-fuck, shit that feels so good Y/n” he whined, his hips buckling up involuntarily. You bit your lip at the way his heavy cock twitched in your hand so desperately. Before he could come undone, he swatted your hand away, earring a whine from you.

“Get on all fours for me baby” his voice sounding strained, as tugged at his hard cock. You quickly, laid your face down in the pillows, and poking your ass out arching your back. Heeseung smacked your ass before aligning his cock up at your hole. He started to push himself inside you, his cock sliding in easily from how wet and turned on you are. He lets you adjust to his size for a minute before setting a rhythm, rocking his hips back and forth.

“Fuuckkk, you’re so fucking tight, god baby sucking me in so good” he lets out deep grunts as he pounds into you from behind. You gripped the sheets roughly, feeling every inch of Heeseung’s cock penetrating your walls.

“Yes yes yes, fuck me harder please harder” you screamed, throwing your ass back at him as you desperately chased after his thrusts. Heeseung threw his head back, showing off his flushed neck. You clenched your pussy tighter around him, earning a whiny moan from him.

“Ahh f-fuck, stop clenching baby or I’m gonna cum” he hissed in pleasure, gripping your waist tighter as he slammed into you roughly. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head, the head of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again.

“Please Daddy, fill me up with your babies, I want your load inside me” you looked back at him, tears gathering in your waterlines, from the intense pleasure you’re feeling. Heeseung’s hips stuttered, as his strokes became sloppy, losing his pace.

“Shit shit shit, I’m about to cum Nghh fuck” he moaned deeply, his thrusts became erratic as he chased his high. Not long after his hips stilled, shooting ropes of thick cum inside you. The feeling of his hot cum, triggered another orgasm out of you, squirting and creaming all over his dick. He pulls his softening cock out, watching the way his cum and your arousal leaks from your spent hole.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. You smiled weakly at him before snuggling your face into his neck.

“Wow baby, that was the best sex I ever had in my life” he chuckled weakly, his breathing still uneven from the intense orgasm he had.

“I can’t believe I just fucked Lee Heeseung” you said in disbelief, as you looked up at him before kissing his lips. He kissed you back, as he rubbed your back softly.

“𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗛𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴”

“𝗜𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼, 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗮 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂?”

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚗𝚍…

A/n: FUCK FUCK FUCK, if I ever get to sign an nda with Heeseung, just know ima fuck the life out of this man🤭 but honestly I’m thinking about making a part two of this where reader and hee possibly start dating secretly 👀. Let me know if you guys want it, hope you guys like it and reblogs are greatly appreciated. ᯓᡣ𐭩

_____________________________________________

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩:

@wave2hoon

[astraystayyh]

An eye for an eye.

assassin!hyunjin x journalist!yn. slow burn. suggestive and angsty at times. she/her pronouns. 7.4k.

it is perhaps the most decisive night of your life. what are the odds that at the same time and place, it happens to be hyunjin’s too?

warnings: mention of alcohol, guns, bruises and injuries. brief talks of grief.

a.n: this is prompted by how hot villain hyunjin looks in the ate era 😭 it was supposed to be a drabble and i didn’t plan on it to be this long.. but i hope you’ll enjoy reading tehee it’s different from anything i’ve ever written so please feedback would be so appreciated,, muah muah 😘❣️

A ruby red lipstick. 

Your first childhood dream was to become a journalist, but not the complacent, obedient kind. You wanted to shed light on uncovered events, dig into the raw truth with your claws, and hold it up for the entire world to witness. You craved justice. You never believed in letting things flow their way, like a current that morphs into a torrent, destroying everything in its path.

No, you were a dam, forcing the water to change its trajectory. After all, you have always believed that all it took for change to happen was a trigger, a single flicker that would in turn burst into flames.

You wished to be it.

It was hard to grow into this specific kind of journalist, though. Not because you lacked drive, passion, or discipline. Especially not because you weren’t curious enough, brave enough. You were Seoul Press’s youngest and brightest reporter, after all.

But in a highly competitive field, you still needed your big story, your breakthrough which would put you on the radar of esteemed awards that all journalists venerate. Though you deemed it much easier to obtain a Pulitzer than to squelch your heart’s quest for truth, justice, and most importantly, in an unpredictable curb that life threw at you— revenge.

Your second childhood dream was to put on ruby red lipstick. Your thirteen-year-old self deemed it the ultimate show of power and confidence, each time you saw your aunt wearing one to her most important meetings. You dreamed of the day you could put it on as well, on your way to uncover the truth. 

And tonight, as you applied your ruby lipstick precisely, gliding the vibrant color across your lips, you felt nerves tighten like thorny vines in your stomach, puncturing your tender skin and leaving you a bloodied mess from within. 

Tonight, in your black gown and your ruby lipstick, in San Heo’s mansion, your country’s most prominent presidential candidate, and the man who ruined your life, it seemed like you were about to achieve both dreams at once.

… 

The clock hand points nine on Hyunjin’s Tank Louis Cartier watch. He throws a fleeting glance at the Victorian watch, before eyeing the people mingling at San Heo’s party. 

He knows all of the guests, memorized their faces and their habits. He knows the school where they drop off their kids and what bar they frequent every Sunday. He memorized their mannerisms and antics, knows what set them off and what did not.

This is the fruit of two years of work, after all.

He knows exactly why everyone is here, tonight particularly. Three politicians’ families and friends gathered as a show of power, to prove that they weren’t afraid of whoever’s been forcing politicians to come clean about their crimes for the past three months.

In the least glamorous manner, at that too, to put it delicately—ten bloodied tapes sent to the country’s most prominent media channels, where ministers and heads of multinationals are bound by ropes to a chair, recalling their most heinous crimes: money laundering and embezzlement for most, theft and murder for some.

The latter is Jung Cho’s case, San’s most successful competitor for the presidency, who has also mysteriously vanished from the police’s grasp since the release of his tape. No one can get a hold of poor Jung Cho anymore. 

Hyunjin smirks lightly to himself. His knuckles seem to have healed well since he last dislocated Jung Cho’s jaw. Well, that was before he shot him through the roof of his mouth.

The golden cuffs of Hyunjin’s Versace blazer reflect the light of the dangling crystal chandeliers, and he runs a weary hand through his black locks. He never chose to gel them back; he wasn’t one for structure, preferring the feeling of his silky strands brushing against his fingers. 

His eyes catch those of San’s across the room, who tips his glass of whiskey towards Hyunjin—a job well done, he reads in San’s stare. Hyunjin raises his red wine back, before settling it across the table once more.

It is a boring half an hour that awaits Hyunjin.

That is until he sees you.

You weren’t here two minutes ago, Hyunjin is sure of this. And, judging by the way you are leisurely sipping your sparkling water, your eyes gliding across the room in search of someone in particular, you had just stepped foot into the party.

Fashionably late, if he were to add.

But that is none of Hyunjin’s concern. What intrigues him the most is that your face isn’t familiar to him. That isn’t normal.

You weren’t supposed to be here, then.

Who are you?

As if hearing his question, your gaze locks onto his. He cocks an eyebrow at you; you mirror the gesture like clockwork.

Thus ensues an intense game of eye contact. You don’t break away from his gaze until two minutes later, a light scoff escaping your lips that he can discern even from afar. You then turn to look at San, your eyes morphing into something fiercer, more determined— a sniper finally locking eyes on its target.

Hyunjin feels a slight headache growing at the base of his temple. He downs his drink, before taking long strides towards you.

It’s official, you’re going to be his nuisance for the night.

27 minutes.

“Care to dance?” Hyunjin inquires as he materializes before you, a hand extended towards your body.

“Pardon?”

“A dance? To the lovely music we are hearing right now?” 

“I know what you mean,” you roll your eyes, leaning your body against the chair right next to you. Hyunjin’s eyes glaze over your legs peeking through the high slit of your dress. Had it been another setting, the sight of your black sheer tights would have made this night turn much differently.

Your voice dispels his thoughts like morning fog. “I mean why are you asking me?”

“Because I’m bored.”

“How flattering,” you grin sarcastically and Hyunjin feels the smallest urge to return your smile, although he knows it isn’t genuine.

“I know. Shall we?”

Your gaze flees to San once again, seemingly debating something in your head before finally sighing.

In the few seconds of scrutiny you consecrate to his boss, Hyunjin’s gaze lingers on your bright red lipstick, and the way you tuck your lip slightly into your mouth as you ponder.

A beautiful nuisance, he corrects himself.

“Fine,” You place your manicured hand in his in response.

“What’s your name?” he asks, as he settles one hand atop your waist. The fabric of your black dress is too thin, he can feel the heat emanating from your body seeping through his palm.

Focus. You need to discover who she is.

“Julia,” your hand settles atop his shoulder, while the other entwines with his. “And you?”

“Sam. What are you doing here?” he quickly inquires.

You shake your head slightly, gliding your hand from the base of his neck to the end of his shoulder.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask you a question?”

Hyunjin tilts his head curiously at you, before smirking slightly— “Yes ma’am.”

“What do you work for?”

“I’m Mr. Heo’s political adviser.”

“You’re quite young, though,” you note.

“I know.”

“And I don’t see you by his side a lot.”

“I work in the background, mostly. I don’t do well with the cameras.” He spins you around, picking up speed as the orchestra picks up the violin. “How do you know Mr. Heo?”

“I’m Kang’s niece, you know, Mr. Heo’s economic adviser? Uncle Kang is ill, and my father is out of the country so both of them chose not to come.”

Hyunjin’s memory faintly brushes off Kang’s single niece, completing her architectural studies in Paris’ Sorbonne. 

“C’est beau à Paris?” Is it beautiful in Paris?

You don’t even blink— “Même magnifique, tu devrais visiter.” Marvelous even, you should visit. 

Checks out.

“I’ll hold you on to that offer,” he says, before spinning you around, your chest settling across his back. Hyunjin ignores how his heart skips a singular beat at your proximity.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asks, his lips tantalizingly close to the shell of your ear. He watches as your chest rises once before your airy voice floods his ear.

“Networking, though you didn’t quite allow me to speak to anyone but you,” you tease slightly.

“I fail to see what an architect has to do with politicians,” he muses, as he sways you gently from left to right.

“I want to oversee the building of Jamsil Sports Complex.”

“So you’re using your father for work connections?” he taunts and you swivel around, placing both your hands on his shoulders before interlinking your fingers behind his neck, caging him within the notes of your perfume.

“Is it a crime?” your voice is airy, too airy, everything you say sounds rehearsed, you don’t seem intimidated by him, by this setting, as opposed to how a newly graduated student, one who grew up away from her father’s world should.

“Depends on your definition,” he counters.

“Do you regard it as such?”

Hyunjin’s gaze flickers all over yours. He senses something urgent in your gaze, as if you are pushing for more, beyond what this simple question entails.

When he remains quiet for a tad too long, you let your hands drop by your body, taking a step away from him.

“I need to go,” you say. He grabs your wrist instantly. “Where to?”

“Bathroom.” And with that, you quickly turn around and walk away, leaving behind notes of your floral perfume and ghosts of your ruby lips.

Hyunjin steals a glance at his clock. 09:13 p.m.

He drags a hand across his forehead wearily. He won’t let you ruin this night.

17 minutes. 

You are washing your hands obsessively in the bathroom, lost in thought as you gaze at your reflection, all blurry from your unfocused eyes. You only turn off the water once your skin starts to sting from the force of your touch. 

The orange-scented soap doesn’t seem to get rid of the stench of blood. 

A week ago. 

“I don't understand your obsession with Mr. Heo,” Christopher Bang calmly removed his glasses, placing them next to the shiny placate reading ‘Editor in Chief of Seoul Press’.

“He is corrupt.”

“As all politicians are,” he spoke matter of factly, and it angered you how unfazed he seemed before your, you admit, far-fetched request. 

“You don’t understand, sir. He’s different.”

“Did he do something to you?” Chris asked, leaning back against his chair. You felt exposed all of a sudden, like a flower left bare without its stem. 

“Would my answer change anything?” You inquired tentatively. 

“It would explain many things, yes actually,” he got up from his chair, before sitting on the one right across from you. “You are a talented journalist, Yn.”

“Thank you—“

“But you are utilizing the company’s resources to conduct your personal investigation on San Heo.” 

He knew. 

“You’ve been working on his case from the day you joined our media. Which was exactly 389 days ago. I know that you’ve managed to uncover quite some dirt, one that would make an explosive case if you get more information. That’s why I turned a blind eye to everything you did because I trust your skills and integrity.” 

You remained silent.

“But now, you’re asking me to completely disregard my deontology by finding a way for you to break into Mr. Heo’s mansion. That is a crime.”

“Not break in. I want an invite to his party, it is the first time he organized one in his home, probably the last time, it is my only chance to—”

“Details,” he waves a hand disinterestedly in the air, cutting you off. “Your intentions aren’t to mingle with politicians, it is to dig in his office and find something of substance. While I admire the lengths of what you want to go through, I must stop you here.” He leveled his eyes with yours. “This can land you in jail, he is the most important man in our country right now.”

“What if I tell you he did something to me, that he ruined my life? Would you help me then?” your voice was hoarse, tears pricked your eyes as you tried your best not to avert your gaze. You hated displays of weakness, despised them even more in professional settings. 

“What did he do?” 

You bristled at the question, ugly memories flashing before your eyes like a blinding light, your body begging you to flee away from this question and the heavy response it entailed.

Still, you spoke. 

Christopher remained silent as you recalled what happened on your doomsday, the night in which your world ceased to spin, and simultaneously, the reason why you joined his company, to begin with. When your sniffles subsided a few minutes later, he gently handed you a napkin, a silent invitation to wipe away the tears that had escaped.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his weary face before finally speaking. 

“I’ll give you the invite tomorrow. Say that you are Kang’s niece, her name is Julia. She went to Paris for architectural studies, and that you are back for a vacation. Kang is ill these days, he won’t attend the party, and his brother is out of the country, no one will question you.”

“How do you know this?” 

“Because I know them,” he toyed with his lower lip lightly before a tiny smile drew upon it. “An eye for an eye, right? I’m Kang’s cousin. I changed my last name because I didn’t wish to deal with them anymore.” 

“So Bhang isn’t your real last name?”

“No.” He ran his thumb across his lower lip, seemingly debating adding something. “San’s office is on the far end of the third floor.” 

You heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t get yourself killed.”

13 minutes. 

It was one thing to stare at photographs of San seared behind your reddened eyelids or to stand at the far end of his press conferences. It was another to step foot into his mansion, to stand amidst powerful people who are capable of ruining your life had they known of your motives. 

But you didn’t have time to dwell on your personal feelings. Fear, nerves, all of those feeble emotions pale before the chance you have today. So, you nod at your reflection in the mirror, count to three in your head, and finally head out of the bathroom. 

“Five minutes, were you crying?” Sam’s bored voice startles you as soon as you set foot outside. He’s leaning on the wall across from the door, hands deep into the pockets of his suit.

Not again. 

“I know that I’m very pretty but don’t you have better things to do than to follow me?” you ask, pausing right in front of him. 

“I’m not following you, I just happen to be particularly fond of the architecture of this corridor,” he jokes and you ignore his words, walking past him with a renowned determination. He pushes himself off the wall, only to grasp your wrist once again, spinning you around until you’re facing him. 

He chuckles softly, tilting his head to the side. His icy blue contacts pierce through your skin like a puncture needle.  “You know, I’m curious, Julia. You seemed very eager to get away from me.”

You take a step forward, closing the distance between you two. “Have you considered that I found your company utterly boring?”

“You wound me,” he places a hand on his heart, any trace of humor absent from his voice. His grip tightens on your wrist for a millisecond. A warning. “I need you to leave.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I’m serious. You shouldn’t be here tonight.”

“And why should I listen to you?” you challenge and his eyes darken further. 

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then let me go,” you mutter, slipping your hand away from his grasp. 

“Julia,” he says sternly, pulling you back till your back is against the wall, his hands rooted on either side of your body. 

It is a dimly lit hallway, and the sound of the orchestra barely reaches you. Your worry intermingles with a new kind of nerves, all orchestrated by his proximity, and the way his gaze brushes against your body like a skilled painter. 

“I’m not joking, leave.” His voice is much softer when he adds, “It’s for your own good. What will happen later doesn’t concern you.”

He knows something that you don’t know, something that, from his tone, none of the guests are aware of. You see something human in his eyes, in the slight crease doting his eyebrows. He seems genuinely worried for the innocent civilian he thinks you are. 

Your eyes turn to look at his hand near your head, only to notice his faintly bruised knuckles, shades of purple and green doting a delicate porcelain skin. They have healed well, then. 

Should you unearth the memory from two weeks ago— pleas for mercy, a deafening gunshot, and an excruciating silence afterward, the quiet after the murder that you remember most? 

Then, another scene rings in your head like bells of an ancient church— a bruised hand brushing against your own in an art gallery from two days ago, raven locks, and familiar, melancholy-tinted eyes. 

Could it be? 

Your voice turns sweet, tender, “should I trust you for the night?” your thumb brushes against the skin underneath his eye, wiping away the concealer you knew you spotted.

There it is, the eye mole you thought he covered. 

It clicks in your mind in an instant, pieces of a puzzle falling into place, there are still a few missing but you manage to grasp the bigger picture.

If he’s not letting you go then he could be of good use. 

What other choice do you have but to gamble with a killer? 

Your sharp nails drag across the nape of his neck, before settling right beneath his jaw. You mimic a gun, his eyes narrow in response.

“Is this how you killed Jung Cho, Hyunjin?” 

You feel a cold barrel instantly press against your stomach. “Police officer?” he asks. 

“No.”

“Journalist ?”

“Yes,” you slowly mutter.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t wish to tell you.” The gun only presses further onto your skin. You feel a cold bead of sweat roll down your exposed spine. 

Breathe. 

“It’s Yn.”

“What do you know?”

“It’d be easier for me to talk if you removed the gun,” you smile lightly and Hyunjin only leans further, a distance as thin as a blade between you both.

“Speak.”

“You killed the only candidate that stood a chance in front of San. You drove him to the empty deposit near Inwangsan Mountain, tortured him for three days, filmed his confessions, and then sent them to many media outlets. Ours included. I know it because I followed you.” 

“Why did you follow me?” he questions. Your eyes flee to the end of the corridor where an impossible staircase sits. You are wasting your time. 

“Because I am investigating San. And through following him I ended up getting to know you. You are different from everyone he meets. Very secretive. So I figured it’d be worth a shot following you too,” you explain as calmly as you can. You’re sure the barrel of the gun will leave a bruise on your skin. 

“And why didn’t you write a piece about me? Everyone is dying to know who I am.”

“I have, I just haven’t released it. If I don’t come back home in an hour my head chef will post the video of you murdering Mr. Cho on every SNS. The public loves you for what you’re doing. But the politicians will come together to kill you. They have a price on your head. You are threatening everything they ever built.” 

Hyunjin drags his gun up your stomach slowly, trails it across your collarbones before it settles on your jaw. 

“I could kill you too, right now.” His tone is cold, evil. Very different from the man who asked you to dance. You know that I can.” 

“My death would only sign yours.”

Hyunjin’s forehead rests on the wall right next to your head. You can hear him inhale deeply, hear the gears turning in his head. “Fuck, you are driving me crazy.”

He drops the gun and takes a step back. “Why didn’t you expose me?”

“You are not the one that matters to me.” 

“What do you want from me then?” 

“Three minutes. Open San’s office, and then I’ll go. No one will ever know of your identity.” 

He remains silent. 

“Hyunjin, please.” 

“Fuck, fine. But whatever happens next you’ll have to trust me, okay?” his hands settle on your shoulder, his eyes leveling with yours, “if you’re not leaving then you’ll have to trust me enough, for tonight.” 

8 minutes. 

“After you,” Hyunjin bows slightly as he opens the door to Heo’s office. You step in first, and he steals a quick glance behind him—no one’s here, for now.

“That saved me the hassle of breaking the door.”

“You know how to do that?” he asks, slightly impressed.

“One of my hobbies,” you shrug before walking directly to the desk. Hyunjin leans against the wall, watching as you lift your dress slightly, revealing a small packet tucked into your garter. The sight drives Hyunjin a little crazy, and he closes his eyes for a second.

He really, really wishes he hadn’t met you here tonight.

You take out a listening device, tapping the bottom of the desk until you find a suitable spot, and then you stick it in place.

“Another one of your hobbies?” he smirks.

You giggle. “Mm, aren’t I the most fun?”

“You are,” his eyes drag across your figure, and he notices a slight falter in your posture, “the most beautiful too.”

You blink, and he’s suddenly in front of you, trapping you between the auburn desk and his toned body. You don’t seem intimidated, placing a palm on his chest as you tilt your head to the side. 

“Aren’t you curious why I’m going after San?”

“No, he angers a lot of people.” His thumb caresses your cheek, a touch so soft in contrast to his next words. “A lot of people fantasize about his death.”

“Are you one of them?” you question, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Right now, all I’m fantasizing about is you.” His voice is husky, and he finds it comes out much easier when he actually likes the person he’s attempting to seduce. 

It takes you a few seconds to speak again. “Is that so?”

“Mm, let’s dance.”

“Didn’t we dance downstairs?”

“That was Sam and Julia dancing,” he says as he entwines his fingers with yours. “You see, Hyunjin is a different kind of dancer.” His hand presses against your back, snaking against your bare skin. “Can I pull you closer?” he asks, and you simply nod, eyes fleeting widely all over his face. 

His chest presses to yours, so close he’s sure your hearts are syncing with one another, his inhales alternating with your exhales. 

“Yn,” he whispers your name, as you look up at him through the curve of your eyelashes.  

“Yes, Hyunjin?” His name sounds soft as it stumbles from your ruby lips, innocent from all the blood that drenches his soul.

“I like the way you say my name.” He glances at his watch above your head. 9:57.

“Hyunjin,” you repeat, as your hand drags up his neck, grabbing a fistful of his hair and gently dragging it backward, exposing his enticing neck to you. “You are always looking at your watch, what are you waiting for?”

He chuckles faintly, grabbing both your hands and spinning you around till his chin rests on the small of your shoulder. “You’re perceptive,” he mutters, as his fingers drag down your bare arms. “But so am I,” he says coldly as he grabs both your hands, bringing them behind your back. “Look, your hands are shaking just from my proximity. I don’t think you have it in you to film me killing Jung Cho. I don’t think you have it in you to watch me torture someone for three days.”

Click. Cold metal wraps around your wrist in an instant, handcuffing you to the leg of the table before which you’re standing. 

“I think you lied to me, Yn. I don’t like being lied to.”

“What are you doing?” you ask disoriented, panic spilling from your being like an overflowing cup.

Hyunjin pays you no mind, taking out his phone and dialing a number. “Boss, we have a problem. I caught a journalist trying to get into your room,” he taps his chin slowly as he looks at you. “No, no need for security. Just come alone. Don’t alarm the guests.”

2 minutes

“Are you serious?” you ask as soon as he hangs up, a prominent lump in your throat. “You told me to trust you.”

“Did I say I was worth that trust?” he pouts, seemingly mocking the vulnerable ordeal you found yourself in. 

A loud chuckle escapes your lips, your head thrown back as if before a hilarious spectacle of sorts. Hyunjin frowns, crossing his arms in front of his chest as your giggles slowly quiet down. 

“You’re a peculiar person, aren’t you Hyunjin? You need to hide your identity but you crave normalcy still, so you open your art gallery. You go to crazy lengths to cover your moles and wear contacts because you wish for people to look at you with admiration in their eyes, kindness. But you don’t deserve it.” There is a fire lit in your eyes, flames latching into his black suit and burning his already scarred skin. “You’ll always be as evil as them.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t respond for a while, his eyes simply softening at your words.

“I know,” he whispers. 

“Who’s this?” San’s voice booms loudly as he sets foot into the office. Hyunjin’s eyes break apart from your figure to look at San, bowing slightly to greet him. 

“Julia, she infiltrated the party,” Hyunjin explains, stealthily locking the door behind San. “She’s been investigating you for quite some time now. And… She knows about the murders.”

“Mm, she’s clever. Should we hire her?” San jokes and Hyunjin smiles politely, dragging his eyes over your face. You simply roll your eyes, seemingly more bored than scared. 

Cute. 

“Anyways,” Heo stares at you for a fleeting second before tapping Hyunjin’s shoulder. “She looks easy to kill. Just get rid of her. But don’t stain my carpet though, it's expensive.”

“Sure thing,” Hyunjin nods, taking out his gun and pointing it at your temple. He steals a final look at his watch— 9:30 p.m. he reads. 

Time’s up. 

“You didn’t think I’d let you go?” Hyunjin mocks, cocking his head at you. In a split second, a bullet ricochets loudly, but not at you. It grazes San’s ear, making him pause near the door, his back towards you both. 

“Right boss?” Hyunjin’s tone is slightly whiny, annoying is the best way to describe it. You can hear police sirens blare loudly outside, see the red and blue hues reflect off the window. Loud shouts erupt downstairs, Hyunjin leisurely reloads his gun, one hand deep into his pocket, San’s posture slightly falters, his fingers digging into the skin of his palm. 

“Do you hear that Heo? Your mansion is surrounded. All your filthy dirt is exposed. The police officers are arresting everyone downstairs right now. And they’re coming for you. The man of the hour.” Hyunjin makes a show of curtsying deeply. You stifle a giggle at his theatrics.

“You dare turn your back on me?” San yells, pivoting around to face Hyunjin’s barrel, the latter simply yawns as if it’s a regular Saturday activity for him. 

“Oh, don’t get emotional on me,” Hyunjin pouts, before his eyes narrow down coldly. “Now kneel. Let’s end this without staining your carpet.”

You see San slowly lowering himself to the ground, Hyunjin’s gaze sets on you for a millisecond, his pupils dilated in apology, in concern, you don’t know, you don't get to decipher his look because San is taking out his gun from his back pocket, aiming it at Hyunjin. “Watch out”— is all you manage to shout, and hyunjin ducks in an instant, propelled by the sound of your voice to the ground.

He could have died, he could have died because he looked at you. 

It all happens so fast, Hyunjin diving into San to take away his gun, both their weapons flinging into the air, San punching Hyunjin’s mouth and the latter retaliating by flinging his fist up against his nose. You’re struggling with your restraints, trying to reach out for the lone gun that fell to your right. 

A bit more, tune out the sirens, tune out the punches, slowly, only a few centimeters left, your wrist is on fire but that is the least of your concern, almost, there, you grab it.

You fire the gun.

It’s quiet once again, for the first time in two years, it is quiet in your head.

It’s over. 

You close your eyes, tilting your head back into the desk. The sound of your mother’s laughter floods your ears, her airy giggles as she brushes your hair and tucks you into her chest, her being a vision of beauty underneath the sun’s caress. 

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin kneels before you, wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks with his bruised knuckles. He is worried, even behind those icy blue contacts, you can still grasp his worry.

You nod, swallowing the sob that is lodged within your throat. Hyunjin is quick to unlock your handcuffs, entwining your fingers with his as he pulls you off the ground. 

You slightly push him aside, your eyes set on San’s bleeding figure. He’s still alive, rugged breaths escaping his chest, his palm pressed to the bullet that punctuated his stomach. 

“I want him dead,” you mutter, grabbing Hyunjin’s forearm to support yourself, “but I want him to rot in prison too.” 

“He will, for all his crimes. I have it all documented. The police have it too,” his palm rubs soothingly against your back, you lean further into his touch.

“He’s a monster.” 

“I know. They all are. That’s why I killed them,” he simply says, before guiding you back to a couch on the right of the office. He shrugs off his suit, draping it over your trembling shoulders. 

“Give me a minute.”

You watch as he grabs the gun you fired off of the ground, before taking a handkerchief out of his pocket. He wipes your fingerprints, making sure to leave his all over the gun. He then walks to the table, taking away your listening device and crushing it to the ground.

He’s calm and collected as he rearranges the scene to his liking, it looks like he has done this a million times before, as if this is the element in which he thrives— a sunflower turning to face the sun, at long last. 

He kneels before your freezing figure one last time, tilting your chin to the side so you’d look at him.

“I fired the gun. You had no idea any of this would happen, you’re just an ambitious journalist who wanted an insider scoop.” He senses you’re somewhere far, pulled by the ropes of memories that had long haunted your dreams. His warm palm presses to your cold cheek, your eyes are glossy as they rest on him. 

“You didn’t do anything. I’m the one who used you as a scapegoat to bring San up here, just like I agreed with the police. Alright? You did nothing.You know nothing.” 

“Alright.”

Hours pass in a cold blur, the weight of time lost on you as three police officers take turns questioning you. You repeat the lines Hyunjin taught you, your voice flat, devoid of emotion. Even as you step out of the police station, with Hyunjin's hand resting gently on your back, you feel nothing. A slight tremor runs through you when he mentions that San survived and will be transferred to prison once he's healed.

You don’t know why you’re disappointed you didn’t become a killer.

You don’t know anything, don’t feel anything as Hyunjin drives you home. You don’t question how he knows your address or the code to your elevator. It’s only when you unlock your door and he starts to pull away that reality snaps back.

Without thinking, you grab his wrist, suddenly aware of the loneliness that awaits you inside, an uninvited guest preying on your vulnerable heart.

“Would you like some tea?” you ask, your voice tinged with hopelessness, knowing just how silly you sound. Why would he stay? He has so many loose ends to thread after his finishing blow, you know he’s part of something far larger than you. 

As if mocking your question, his phone buzzes for the tenth time in the span of five minutes.

But then, to your surprise, he turns it off.

“Yeah,” he says with a soft smile, “I’d like some tea.”

As you bring the water to a boil, Hyunjin rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt, casually wandering around your apartment as if it’s not his first time setting foot in here. He’s always at ease— with a gun pointed at him or while looking at the souvenir magnets on your fridge. 

His calmness helps instill some peace in your heart too. 

“I like your apartment,” he says, accepting the cup of chamomile you hand him. “It’s cozy, feels like a home.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as you sink into the couch, your head hung low. So much has happened in just half an hour, too much for you to fully comprehend and process.

“Let me see,” he says a few sips later, as he gently removes the cup from your clutch, before sliding his thumb across your right wrist. The bruises have already begun to form, the red marks from the handcuffs clear evidence of your struggle to reach the gun.

“I’m sorry I involved you in this,” he murmurs, frowning as he avoids your gaze, staring intently at your wrist as if he could will the blue hues away. “I didn’t plan for you to be at the party.”

“I involved myself,” you chuckle softly. You’re not one for physical touch, but you don’t feel the usual urge to pull away from his grasp. His hands are warm, the roughness of his fingertips a stark contrast to the softness of your skin.

“You’re a stubborn journalist,” he says with a small smile, finally meeting your gaze. you suddenly yearn to look into the rich brown of his eyes once more. Was its shade as deep as you remember?

“And you’re an excellent painter,” you retort, eliciting a surprised laugh from him. The sound is unexpectedly endearing, and you’re caught in a whirlwind of contradictions. Is this really the same man you saw taking a life? The same man now holding your wrist as if it were made of porcelain?

“Right, you figured out my identity. What gave me away?” he asks, still smiling.

“I heard about this new gallery where the artist’s only clue to his identity was the name signed on his paintings. So, I decided to see for myself. While everyone else was captivated by the artwork, I noticed you, standing in the corner, observing the reactions of everyone around. You smiled when someone smiled, and your grin grew wider with each compliment. That’s when I started to suspect that the artist was you, all along.”

“I remember it now. I bumped into you as you were leaving,” he says, and you nod.

“What stood out to me were your sad eyes. That’s what I remember most. Well, besides your bruised knuckles.”

“And that’s how you connected the dots.”

“Yes, and your eye mole, too. Even though you tried to conceal it with makeup, it still showed.”

“Very perceptive,” he says with a grin.

“Thank you.”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll expose your identity?” you ask, as his hand gently slides into yours, his fingers resting lightly on top of yours. A simple, innocent touch, yet it stirs something unknown in the pits of your stomach. 

“I trusted you when you said I’m not the one who matters to you.”

“Why would you trust me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I miss putting my faith in someone, even if they end up failing me. Isn’t that the most human trait of all?”

How could an assassin create such heartfelt paintings, overflowing with emotions too hard to explain with words, let alone colors? Perhaps because this isn’t the life he always wanted.

“Did you choose this?” you ask softly, your voice barely a whisper. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from the interrogation, or the near brush with death, or perhaps the relief that this chapter is finally closing for both of you. But something compels you to keep talking, to ask, to hold on to Hyunjin just a little longer.

“Being a killer, you mean?” His voice carries a tenderness that seems at odds with the weight of his words. He’s a walking contradiction, balancing two identities within himself—Hyunjin and Sam. One feels heavier on his bones than the other. 

“I grew up in this world,” he continues. “My parents run a large network of assassins—or vigilantes, depending on how you see it. Some people hire us, and sometimes we act on our own when we see injustice or corruption festering for too long. We conduct thorough background checks. We only kill those who truly deserve it. We always make sure of that.”

“An eye for an eye.”

He nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I always feel good in the midst of a case. One less evil in the world. But after, there’s just this emptiness. Now what? I always wonder. So I try to fill the void with painting.”

“Now what…” you repeat, your voice trembling as a lump forms in your throat. “Now what? What should I do now?” Tears well up and spill over suddenly, streaming down your face in an unstoppable torrent. “San is behind bars, but my mom isn’t coming back. So what now? What was all of this for if I can’t get her back?”

You find yourself burying your head in the crook of Hyunjin’s neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you, holding you close as if he could contain your sadness, preventing it from seeping from your soul and reaching your mother, wherever she may be.

You haven’t allowed anyone to hold you like this in two years, denying yourself any comfort until you could bring your mother’s killer to justice. It was a promise you made to yourself after San drunkenly ran her over and fled the scene, leaving you alone to hug her cold body in that sterile hospital room.

“It drove me crazy,” you sob, your words broken and incoherent. “He bribed everyone—the doctors, the paramedics, the stores nearby. Everyone acted like my mom didn’t d-die because of h-him,” you hiccup, and Hyunjin only holds you tighter, closer, enough to stitch your wounds with time, only if he remains this close to you. If he wishes to, if you allow him to.

“But now he’s behind bars, and I still don’t have my mom. What do I do now that I can’t bury myself in revenge? Hyunjin, what should I do when I miss her so much and I can’t see her?”

Five hours later.

“The article is perfect, no corrections needed,” Chris says, removing his glasses and looking at you with approval. “Excellent work, Yn.” 

“Thank you,” you nod, feeling a mix of relief, but mostly exhaustion. “I stayed up all night working on it.” 

“Goid, it’s only 6 a.m. so we know that no other media outlet has touched this yet. Our article will be the one to shape public opinion. This is a big win for us. It’s a thorough investigation, and I’m confident you’ll get the recognition you deserve,” he writes something down onto his notebook before looking at you once more. “Take a few days off—you’ve earned it. I’ll reach out if anything urgent comes up.”

“Thank you, sir.” You bow slightly before turning to leave the suffocating office. Or maybe it’s your own mind that’s suffocating you. You don’t have time to dwell on the question before Chris speaks again. 

“Oh, Yn?” Chris calls out just as your hand touches the doorknob. “One last thing, did you ever figure out who was behind all those tapes?”

Your grip on the doorknob tightens imperceptibly. “No sir, no clue.” 

One month later. 

It’s a few minutes before the art gallery closes when you walk in. Hyunjin spots you before you see him, your distinctive walk etched in his memory as vividly as if it were only yesterday that he had seen it.

He approaches quietly, stopping behind you as you gaze at the newest addition to his collection.

“Is this us?” you ask, not turning around. Hyunjin’s eyes follow yours to the abstract painting of a couple waltzing in a ballroom, their hands intertwined just like yours were, four Saturdays ago.

“Yes,” he replies softly.

“It seems I left an everlasting impression on you,” you tease, he can hear the smile in your voice without seeing it. 

“You did. You looked beautiful.”

“So did you.”

“I’m glad you came,” he says sincerely. “I missed you.”

“But we only spent a day together,” you giggle quietly, and Hyunjin wishes he could capture your laugh and tuck it away in the veins of his heart.

“Didn’t that day feel like a year, though?” he muses, resting his chin gently on your shoulder. You lean back into him, closing the space between you.

“It did,” you admit before nervously clearing your throat. “Are you free right now? We could grab a drink, if you’d like?”

“Chamomile tea?” he chuckles, and your laughter vibrates through his being.

“No, something stronger this time.”

He hums, hesitating as he despises the words that would stumble out of his mouth. “I have some things to handle tonight. Urgent matters.”

“Ah,” your voice dips slightly, the disappointment clear in your tone. “Well, it’s okay. I’ll see you another time, then,” you say, finally turning to face him. 

He really missed you. 

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

“Okay.”

“Congratulations on your award, by the way,” he says, watching your expression soften, a delicate smile forming on your lips.

“You saw it?”

“I did. I read your piece, too. I’m sure your mom would be proud of you.”

Tears of gratitude well up in your eyes, and you squeeze Hyunjin’s hand tightly as you whisper, “Thank you. Really. Thank you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin’s words linger in your soul, echoing through your mind for the rest of your day, his voice the only sound that seems to fill the silence within you. That is until three loud knocks resonate through your apartment, just minutes before midnight. 

You open the door to find Hyunjin standing there, a fresh bruise marring his jaw, his knuckles freshly scraped and bloodied.

“Let me guess, you had nowhere else to go?” you joke, trying to regain your composure at the sight of him once more.

“No,” he replies, his tone earnest, “I wanted to come to you.”

Your smile falters at the sincerity in his voice. You can’t quite place what it is about Hyunjin that pulls you toward him, how amidst everything that’s happened in the past month, the most vivid memory is how he held you gently as you cried and cried.

“I forgot something,” he says, pulling a tube of cooling cream from his back pocket and offering it to you. “I meant to give this to you for your bruised wrists.”

He’s a month late, you both know your wrists have long since healed.

“I… yeah,” he sighs before your silence, turning to leave, a light blush tinting his cheeks. But before he can, you drop the tube and grab his hand, spinning him back around.

“I forgot something too,” you say quickly before pressing your lips against his.

You don’t fully understand what draws you to Hyunjin, but you know his lips taste as sweet as cherry chapstick, that his hand around your waist feels like water flowing gently over your skin, warm and encompassing. That his brown eyes remind you of sunlight dancing on autumn leaves, that no one has touched your soul as deeply as he has.

You know you wish to make him feel as human as he makes you.

[jiminomenon]

bratty beginnings

pairing: model! yu jimin x assistant! female reader

word count: 851 words

summary: in which, y/n moves to seoul with nothing but hope, only to face rejection after rejection. when she lands a job as the assistant to infamous model yu jimin, she quickly learns that dealing with jimin’s bratty attitude is harder than it seems. but when y/n unexpectedly fights back, everything changes—including jimin.

from my series: the devil wears prada

a/n: ya’ll please send ask/requests for this story, or even thoughts.

the train ride to seoul felt like a dream, the kind that y/n wasn’t sure she wanted to wake up from. the provincial district she had called home for years was now just a blur outside the window, replaced by the towering skyscrapers and neon lights of the city. y/n clutched her suitcase tightly, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear. seoul was big, loud, and overwhelming, and y/n had no friends, no family, and no job waiting for her. just a dream and a whole lot of hope.

the first few days were a blur of job applications and rejections. y/n had applied everywhere—cafes, convenience stores, even a sketchy-looking karaoke bar—but no one wanted someone with no experience. the rejections piled up, and so did the doubt. maybe coming to seoul had been a mistake. maybe she wasn’t cut out for this.

but then, like a lifeline, she saw it: a job posting for an assistant position. no experience required. good pay. it sounded too good to be true, but y/n was desperate. she printed out her resume, put on her best outfit, and headed to the address listed.

the building was sleek and modern, all glass and steel, and the lobby was filled with people who looked like they belonged there. y/n, in her slightly wrinkled blouse and scuffed shoes, felt out of place. the receptionist gave her a once-over before directing her to the 15th floor. the elevator ride felt like an eternity, and y/n’s reflection in the mirrored walls looked as nervous as she felt.

when the doors slid open, chaos greeted her. people rushed back and forth, shouting orders, carrying racks of clothes, and balancing trays of coffee. in the center of it all stood yu jimin—karina. even in the midst of the madness, she was impossible to miss. tall, striking, with an aura that commanded attention. she was arguing with a stylist, her voice sharp and cutting.

“i said no pink! do you not understand basic instructions?”

the stylist stammered an apology, but jimin was already turning away, her eyes landing on y/n. she raised an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over y/n with a mix of curiosity and disdain.

“who are you?” she demanded, her tone making it clear she expected an immediate answer.

“i-i’m here for the assistant position,” y/n stammered, holding up her resume like a shield.

jimin plucked it from her hands, scanning it with a bored expression. “no experience. great. just what i need.” she sighed dramatically, tossing the resume onto a nearby table. “fine. you’re hired. don’t make me regret it.”

y/n blinked, stunned. “just like that?”

“just like that,” jimin said, already walking away. “you start now. keep up.”

the first few hours were a whirlwind. jimin was every bit as demanding and bratty as the rumors suggested, barking orders and criticizing everything y/n did.

“this coffee is too cold,” she snapped, shoving the cup back into y/n’s hands. “fix it.”

“why is this taking so long? are you incompetent?”

“do you even know how to do anything right?”

y/n’s patience was wearing thin. she had taken enough of jimin’s attitude, and something inside her snapped. when jimin threw another insult her way, y/n turned to her, her voice steady but firm.

“you know what? i’m not scared of you. i’ve had enough of your attitude. i get it, you’re a big shot model, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat people like garbage. i’m here to do a job, not be your punching bag. so either start treating me with some respect, or find someone else to boss around!”

the room fell silent. everyone stopped what they were doing, their eyes wide with shock. no one talked back to jimin. no one. the stylist who had been yelled at earlier looked like she was about to faint, and the photographer nervously adjusted his camera, as if preparing to capture the moment jimin exploded.

but jimin didn’t explode. instead, she stared at y/n for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, to everyone’s surprise, she chuckled. it was a low, amused sound, and it sent a shiver down y/n’s spine.

“well, well,” jimin said, a smirk playing on her lips. “looks like you’ve got some fire in you after all.” she stepped closer, her eyes locking with y/n’s. “fine. you’ve got the job. don’t make me regret it.”

and with that, she turned and walked away, leaving y/n and the rest of the room in stunned silence. the stylist let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and the photographer muttered something about needing a drink. y/n, meanwhile, stood there, her heart pounding, unsure whether she had just made the biggest mistake of her life or the best decision.

but as the days turned into weeks, y/n realized that maybe, just maybe, she had found her place in seoul after all. and maybe, just maybe, jimin wasn’t as bad as everyone made her out to be.

[noonecareslol]

˖ ִ ೀ 𝐀 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐏𝐭 𝟐

Hwang In-ho x Fem! Reader

Summary: When the games aren’t in session, and In-ho is lonely, he finds himself in the first row at the ballet. Watching you. After you entered his life, everything changed. His secret is becoming harder to hide, along with his love.

TW: Channeling my love for older men. Age gap (reader is 25 In-ho is 49). Just FLUFF with SMUT! In-ho learning how to love someone again. Quite literally head over heels for you. Size kink if you squint.

WC! 3k Part 1! -> here!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were twelve when you started to dance.

You had been walking with your friend, heading to a convenience store when you saw it.

“Limelight Dance Studio”

However, it wasn’t the sign that caught your attention. Or the big beautiful building that looked like it belonged in a fairytale. What caught your attention was the woman walking into the studio.

Her hair was in a tight, slick bun, and her loose jacket covered her torso. Her pointe shoes were clutched in her hand as she rushed in, pushing past the door as she headed toward her class.

That day you went home and marched straight up to your mother, a flier clutched in your tiny hands. She said no at first, practically shattering your small heart. But without you knowing, she spent that month saving every cent she could, surprising you with a pair of ballet flats and admission to the dance studio.

From then on, your life centered around ballet.

At 17, you finally transitioned to Pointe after years of training. And once you laced the ribbons, you were unstoppable. Every time you were on stage, you were in your element. Glowing with potential.

Dancing is where you thrive. It’s where you belonged.

You studied abroad at Juilliard for four years, becoming the perfect ballerina you had strived to be. And when you returned, the Seoul Ballet Company practically begged you to dance for them.

You accepted the offer calmly, but deep down the little girl who had fallen in love with dance was screaming. You have finally achieved your dream.

You were perfect. Life was perfect. It was fulfilled, and you didn’t need anything more.

Right?

You had your fair share of relationships, but nothing ever serious. Not when your life centered around ballet. Your career was always the main reason your relationships ended, but you couldn't care less.

Men didn't make you happy, dance did.

And you knew that for a relationship to work, you would have to find someone just like you. Busy, determined, focused, perfect.

One night, after many glasses of wine, you realize your standards are extremely unrealistic.

Which, they are.

So you decided to give up on dating.

But often, when it’s late at night, you find yourself lonely. You thought about getting a cat, which you had been excited about. But your bitchy landlord didn’t allow it. So instead, you found comfort in watching old movies.

They came on after dark. The black and white glow illuminating your small living room. You would come home from practice, tossing your bag by the front door before jumping onto the couch. Snacks in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and your eyes glued to the flatscreen. You would stay up late, watching Audrey Hepburn explore Rome or enjoy a breakfast at Tiffany's until you fall asleep.

You’d wake up at 8:00 am, sluggishly getting ready for the gym before chugging your espresso. You’d work out, maybe some pilates or weight training, then grab some lunch. Sometimes you would come home and take a nap, sometimes you would hang out with friends, but often you found yourself lounging by the cafe.

People watching had became your favorite activity.

You’d sit in the uncomfortable metal chair, your chicken salad sandwich sitting untouched on the table in front of you, and you’d watch as people went about their day.

The cafe was placed across the street from a tall building full of luxury apartments, which you bet probably allowed cats. Yes, you were still bitter about that.

One specific day, when you were sitting in the familiar metal chair, you found yourself watching someone intently.

He was quickly walking down the sidewalk, carefully dodging people as he carried a brown bag full of groceries. You gasped as a stranger ran out in front of him abruptly, knocking his belongings to the floor.

You scoffed as the person he’d crashed into walked past, not even offering to help. And your feet almost moved on their own as you walked straight over to help him gather his groceries.

Little words were exchanged, “Thank you.” “You didn’t have to do that.” “Have a nice day.” You assumed he didn’t pay much attention to the interaction.

But you did.

There was something so captivating about him. Something so endearing that captured your attention, something you couldn’t quite describe.

Since then, you often hoped to see him again.

You just didn’t expect to see him in the front row at your ballet.

That was a surprise.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Pspspsps!” You rubbed your fingers together, bending down to the ground, “Come here, Elisabeth. Pspsps!”

The fluffy white cat came around the corner, eying you with skepticism as you motioned her to approach you. She was a sassy girl and didn’t fully trust you yet, but that didn’t bug you.

She was honestly intimidating.

You smile widely as she walks towards you, happy to finally make a connection with her. But as she walked past you without even a glance, you sighed, watching as she planted herself in front of your boyfriend's feet.

You stood up and rested your hands on your hips, "She'll love me one day." You watched as she rubbed against In-ho's legs, a quiet purr causing a small smile to form on your lips.

She is intimidating, but she sure is cute.

In-ho keeps his gaze on you, watching how you slightly pout at Elisabeth's adorable nature. His heart flutters, something that's becoming increasingly common in the last five months of your relationship.

It has been five months since your ankle fracture, which is now completely healed thanks to In-ho's firm instructions to rest. You honestly think he just didn't want you to leave his apartment, but you weren't complaining.

Five months since your shared kiss that ultimately changed both of your lives. You moved in after about three months, which turned out to be a great idea, despite everyone saying it was too soon. When he first brought up the question, you were skeptical. But as soon as he mentioned an in-unit washer and dryer, you took the key.

Your mother was concerned at first, especially about the age gap. But you brushed it off. In-ho was quite literally perfect for you, as were you for him. Age didn't matter to you when you both completed each other's heart.

The first thing you did when you moved in was decorate. Not his entire apartment, obviously, but you did go to Home Depot and buy a few plants.

Cat-safe, of course.

Once your ankle healed, you went back to dancing. And, just like before, every Friday In-ho would watch you practice. Though he doesn't sit in the back anymore, he sits front and center.

After your practice, he always gives you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, tulips. He would take your bag with his arm around yours, and you would walk to your apartment together.

Life was, simply put, perfect.

It was bliss. A happiness that was only obtained when you brought down your walls and let a stranger in. A stranger who captured your heart, mind, and everything in between.

When you first discovered his collection of old films and music, you could've sworn you fell in love with him just then. You knew you were perfect for each other already, but the shared interest solidified that.

Nights aren't lonely anymore. Not when your bed is shared by the man who you adore, and a fluffy white cat who is determined to sleep with you.

His arms are wrapped around you, your back pressed to his chest as he holds you tight. His head nuzzled into the back of your neck as he snores, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as you dream.

Your legs are tangled, intertwined under the covers as your hearts beat the same rhythm. Your hands are wrapped on top of his, the feeling of being in his arms familiar and comfortable. It would be impossible to sleep without each other, you both knew that.

So when In-ho sits you down on a warm June night and explains he has to leave for a work trip, you cry. I know, it's dramatic. But you had spent the last five months in each other's presence. Holding each other, kissing each other, making love on the very bed you sleep in together. Where you went, he followed. Where he traveled, you joined.

You needed him. He was the air that filled your lungs, giving you breath. He was the blood that flowed through your veins and pumped your heart, giving you life. He was your soul, your mind. He had you wrapped around his finger, and you knew it.

Vice versa, you were his whole being. He based every decision around you, around your future together. He's made sacrifices you couldn't even imagine. He went from letting the games be the center of his life, to you being the center of his universe.

You were all he could think about.

Important business meeting about the upcoming games? Forget it. In-ho is at home making Kimchi with you, having forgotten all about it.

Meeting with the V.I.P's? What meeting. In-ho is too busy indulging in his desire with his tongue deep in your core, a hand clamped around your throat.

You were his sole purpose on this earth. Where you walked, flowers bloomed behind you. Wherever you went, the sun would shine. In-ho felt he didn't deserve you. No, he knew he didn't deserve you.

He never told you that though. Of course, if he did, you would smack him upside the head, "Seven days? Where are they making you go?" You cried into his shoulder, your body resting on his lap as he sat back on the plush couch.

His heart breaks a little at the sound of your cries, his thumb brushing away the tears that fell, "I just have to host this private game. I'll be back so soon, I promise." Your cries didn't change, his shirt dampening as you snuggled deeper into his chest, "I will call you every chance I can. I promise."

You looked up at him, giving a pathetic sniffle as you spoke, "When do you leave?" You sit up fully now, straightening your top. He rubs his big hand over your arm, watching as goosebumps trail behind.

He looks up at you, a hand fiddling with your exposed bra strap, "Tomorrow morning." He sighs as he watches a pout form on your pretty mouth, his thumb brushing over your lips.

"What do I do while you're gone?" You pull his hand from your face, holding it in your own as you play with his fingers.

In-ho hasn't failed to notice how his pants tightened since you've been sitting innocently on his lap, your hips slowly rocking as you sobbed into his shoulder moments ago. You knew it too. The second he played with your bra strap, the emotion in the air changed from angst to lust.

And if he was going to be gone for seven days, might as well enjoy the night, "Come here." His voice was low and demanding as he took his hand from your grasp, taking a hold of your side.

Your mouth parted as his hand moved down, softly caressing every curve of your perfect body. Though his eyes stayed peering into your own, watching your reaction to every touch.

He smirked as you gave a breathless gasp, his hand pinching your hip as you slowly grind your hips down. His hard cock rubbing against your desire raises an all-too-familiar feeling in the deep of your stomach.

Wordlessly, his hand comes behind you, laying you down on the couch as he stands up. Towering over your body as he unbuttoned his shirt, your eyes trail across every inch of exposed skin.

He moves between your legs, his hands coming to your face as he pulls you into a needy kiss. Your hands find his back, your fingers rubbing, digging into his skin as he fucks your mouth with his tongue.

He pulls away, breathlessly moving his hands down to the hem of your shirt. You watch with lustful eyes as he tugs your top up and over your head with one swift motion. His hands find your bare skin, pinching and squeezing your sides with hunger in his dark eyes.

Heat pools between your thighs, your hand sneaking under your panties as In-ho unhooks your bra swiftly. He leans back, taking you in awe as he trails his eyes over your body.

He gives a small laugh at the sight of your hand slowly fucking yourself, "Tsk, as much as I love seeing you do that, you will have seven days to do it. Tonight, you don't have to do a thing."

Your eyes snap open as he dips his hand under your panties and over your own, moving your hand up to your parted mouth. He pushes your hand towards your lips, a smirk evident on his own as he puts your delicate fingers inside your pretty mouth.

He sighs as you taste yourself, the heat becoming unbearable between your goose-bumped legs, "See how sweet you taste? Do you see why im starved all the time?" He kisses your jaw between his words, his hands slipping off your bottoms, your panties gone with it.

He stands again, tossing your clothes into a pile, his bottoms going with it. He towers over the couch, intimidating you like he did all those months ago.

You sit up, your small hands delicately reaching up and leaving tiny bolts of electricity on his abs as you trace down. You take your thumb, wiping the precum from his sensitive tip. His head falls back just from that touch alone, and as desperate as he is to see your lips swollen and wrapped around him, he remembers his promise.

You lean down, your lips centimeters away from his length when his strong hand pulls your chin up, "You aren't doing a thing, remember?" You whine, his strong arms laying you back down on the couch.

He comes between your legs again, lifting your hips up as he traces his cock between your pussy. The sound of your slick fills his ears, and a small "fuck" falls from his lips. It takes everything in you not to buck your hips, the need becoming irresistible as he lines himself up with your core.

He takes a hand and lifts your face, desperate to see your pretty eyes as he fucks into you. As he sinks in, the familiar feeling of ecstasy overtakes him as he stretches you.

He sets a rhythm, fucking you as he stares into your eyes, your eyebrows raised and mouth agape as your hips meet with a slap. His free hand comes behind your waist, supporting your legs as you meet his thrusts.

In-ho didnt fuck.

He made love.

And that shit was passionate as fuck.

His eyes never left yours. Not once. Not even when he places a hand on your stomach, feeling the bulge of his cock deep in your womb. You, on the other hand, writhed beneath him. Your moans filling your shared apartment, mixing with the pornographic sounds from In-ho,.

Your head sank back into the couch, your hand coming to hold his own as he quickened his thrusts. His other hand that supported you moved to your clit, pressing and rubbing perfectly over your sensitive bud.

If there was one thing about In-ho, it's that he's determined to make you cum with him.

Every. Single. Time.

So when his hand reaches your clit, you know he's close, "In-ho, please- god. Please don't stop." You didn't yell or scream. Your voice was sultry, full of desire.

He throws a head back at your words, his warmth spilling deep into your womb with one final deep thrust as you clench around him. You meet him, finding your own ethereal as you reach your climax.

He whines with his thrusts as he slows down, emptying into your tight core, "When... when I'm gone." You furrow your eyebrows, catching your breath as he pulls out of you, "This next week, when I'm gone."

He lays with you on the couch, pulling you to lay on his chest, "Whenever you need me, I want you to use your pretty little fingers and fuck yourself while you think about this moment." You blushed, despite just taking his cock only a moment ago.

He brings his hand to your face, his thumb parting your lips, "Can you promise me that?" Your eyes slightly water, remembering why you were even crying in the first place.

"I promise." Your voice was a whisper, smiling up at In-ho as he kissed your forehead. You take a deep breath, realizing just how much he means to you. Just how much you need him.

If only you knew.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

An: I actually wrote most of this during my mom's colonoscopy LMFAO. Also, guys imma be so fr with you, I'm so tired lmao. But here! The long-awaited part 2 which is basically just fluff to smut lmao. I've never been one to really write part twos (I hate feeling like I HAVE to write because then it turns into a chore) BUT I actually enjoyed writing this one. Im gonna work through my requests and also please join my taglist! Love you guys!

@sxmmerchxldblog @bohemiandelilah @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen  @menabuser16 @speedymagazinewhispers @nellabear  @marymun @orihime188 @nanascupid @fnl9zer @chasinghxran @crystalizia @auspicious-lilana @machipyun @cdej6 @namelesslosers @lovelymindescape @macnbriee @rosegracewood09@gurjxxpp11 @shadow-tumbler @veiledsaint @rosyflowerss

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ white mustang ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x single!mother!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ you were a single mother raising a four-year-old daughter in the bustling, unforgiving city of seoul. life had not unfolded as you once fantasized it might, instead, it had cornered you into a relentless cycle of poverty and struggle. you had married young, filled with hope and naivety, but those dreams were shattered when your husband abandoned you shortly after you announced your pregnancy. unable to bear the duties of fatherhood, he not only left but also cast you out of the home you once shared, leaving you to fend for yourself and your unborn child.

˚ ༘♡ your own family, steeped in tradition and pride, turned their backs on you as well. they viewed your divorce as a mark of shame, a stain on their honor. the fact that you would raise a child without a father was, in their eyes, an unforgivable disgrace. they refused to take you in, forcing you to seek refuge in whatever options you could find. eventually, you found work as a sales assistant at a small boutique, where the pay was barely enough to scrape by. minimum wage stretched thin over endless expense, formula, rent, utilities, and it quickly became apparent that even the bare necessities were a luxury. in a moment of sheer desperation, you began taking out loans amounting in tens of thousands of won, well aware you could never repay them. the interest piled up as fast as the bills, but the loans kept your daughter fed and clothed, albeit barely. you hated yourself for it, but there were no other choices that didn’t feel impossible.

˚ ༘♡ your home, if it could be called that, was on the less fortunate side of a narrow street lined with aging apartments and cracked sidewalks. the peeling paint and broken railings were a daily reminder of your circumstances. yet, even amidst your despair, you couldn’t help but notice the contrast a few blocks over, a wealthier stretch of the same neighborhood, where sleek cars parked outside magnificent homes and prosperity seemed to flourish. it was during one of your daily walks to the bus stop, your daughter’s tiny hand clutching yours, that you first noticed him.

˚ ༘♡ cho sang-woo. a man who seemed completely out of place in your reality but belonged so effortlessly to the better half of the neighborhood. his polished suits, sharp gaze, and air of quiet confidence spoke of success and power. you didn’t know much about him, only the whispered details you overheard at the local convenience store. he was a former student of seoul university, where he graduated at the top of his class, and he now worked at joy investments, one of the most prestigious firms in the city. he lived in the nicer part of the street, a place that might as well have been a world apart from yours.

˚ ༘♡ for weeks, your paths crossed without words. you would see him on the way to work, his brisk stride purposeful and somehow detached. you’d clutch your daughter’s hand tightly as she skipped beside you, her laughter a rare mirthful mark in your otherwise gray days. sometimes, you wondered if he noticed you at all, or if to him, you were just another melancholic face in the crowd. but there was something in the way his eyes briefly wandered to yours, a swift, barely noticeable moment of acknowledgment, almost imperceptible but not absent.

˚ ༘♡ a month passed without much change. you worked long hours at the boutique, came home to your daughter’s laughter echoing in the small apartment, and fell asleep each night with exhaustion pressing against your chest. spring had arrived, softening the chill in the air and filling the streets with blossoms and a sense of renewal you couldn’t quite feel for yourself. still, you tried to give your daughter a taste of joy, taking her for walks when time allowed, letting her skip along the sidewalks as if the world weren’t so cynical.

˚ ༘♡ one bright afternoon, the kind that made the city’s grime seem almost picturesque, you saw him again. cho sang-woo stood ahead, unmistakable in his dark business suit. the clean lines of his attire and the polished leather of his shoes seemed to set him apart from the bustling, chaotic world around him. his square-rimmed glasses caught the sunlight, and his expression, though composed, held a trace of warmth when he noticed you approaching. he lifted a hand in a brief wave and nodded. “good morning,” he greeted, his tone polite but personable.

˚ ༘♡ you returned his nod with a soft smile, your daughter tugging lightly at your hand. “good morning to you as well, sir,” you replied, your voice calm, though you felt a twinge of surprise that he’d acknowledged you.

˚ ༘♡ your daughter, far less reserved, beamed up at him, her youthful cheer impossible to contain. “hello, sir!” she exclaimed with a giggle, her small voice cutting through the hum of the city.

˚ ༘♡ he stopped in his tracks, the corners of his mouth lifting in a genuine grin. “how old is she?” he asked, his gaze shifting to your daughter, who looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

˚ ༘♡ “four years old as of last month,” you replied, brushing a hand over her dark hair with a hint of pride you didn’t bother hiding.

˚ ༘♡ he adjusted his glasses, the gesture quick and practiced, before replying, “she’s a clever child. you’re blessed to have her.”

˚ ༘♡ his words, spoken so simply yet with unmistakable sincerity, stirred something in you. “i tell myself that every day,” you said quietly, your fingers tightening gently around your daughter’s small hand.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t seem rushed to leave, lingering as though the conversation mattered more than wherever he was headed. his questions were unintrusive, small talk about the weather, the flowers blooming along the street, and whether you’d been in the neighborhood long. you answered politely, aware of the contrast between his world and yours yet struck by how easily he spoke to you.

˚ ༘♡ after a few minutes, he glanced at his watch, a subtle flare of responsibility returning to his expression. “i’d better get going,” he said, though there was no impatience in his tone. “it was nice talking to you.”

˚ ༘♡ “and to you,” you replied, dipping your head slightly.

˚ ༘♡ he offered your daughter one last smile before walking away, his pace measured, his presence lingering even as he disappeared down the street. you watched him for a moment, then turned back to your daughter, who was already pulling you toward the park.

˚ ༘♡ from that day on, whenever your paths crossed, he made a point to stop and speak with you. at first, the exchanges were brief, a polite inquiry about your day or a comment on how quickly your daughter was growing. but as the weeks passed, the conversations stretched longer, even when his crisp attire and leather briefcase suggested a packed schedule. he would pause, leaning slightly toward you as he spoke, his words carrying a kind of attentiveness you hadn’t encountered in a long time. those encounters, swift as they were, began to carve a small space of solace into the otherwise monotonous routine of your days.

˚ ༘♡ one quiet afternoon, as you were tidying up after a long day, the phone rang. you glanced at the screen and saw sang-woo’s name flashing. you hesitated for a moment, unsure why he was calling, but you picked up. his voice on the other end was casual yet warm. “would you like to grab dinner tonight? nothing fancy, something simple,” he said, his tone friendly enough to put you at ease.

˚ ༘♡ you smiled softly, though he couldn’t see it. “i’d like to, but i can’t leave my daughter home alone,” you replied, your words tinged with regret. her well-being was always your priority, and you weren’t in a position to make exceptions.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t hesitate to reply. “then bring her along,” he insisted without hesitation. “it’ll be fun for all of us, and i couldn’t think of leaving her out.”

˚ ༘♡ his sincerity made it hard to say no. after a brief pause, you agreed, telling him you’d meet him shortly. your daughter, wide-eyed and excited, picked the dinner, a feast of fried chicken and tteokbokki. it wasn’t what you considered a balanced meal, but sang-woo laughed softly when you voiced your concerns. “an occasional indulgence won’t hurt,” he reassured you, his tone effortlessly convincing. “besides, it’s my treat tonight.”

˚ ༘♡ when you arrived at the small, bustling eatery, your daughter clung to your hand while her gaze darted around, taking in the brightly colored menus and the sizzling platters on nearby tables. sang-woo was already seated, waving you over with a welcoming smile that made you feel momentarily lighter. he pulled out a chair for you before settling back into his own seat, engaging your daughter with playful questions about her favorite foods and games. her laughter filled the air as he entertained her, his natural charm putting her completely at ease.

˚ ༘♡ as the meal went on, you found yourself relaxing, enjoying the rare treat of good food and pleasant company. when your daughter noticed the arcade machines near the back of the restaurant, her face lit up with excitement. before you could say a word, sang-woo reached into his pocket and handed her a coin, encouraging her to go play while the two of you stayed behind. it was then, as you sat alone with him, that the evening took a turn you hadn’t anticipated.

˚ ༘♡ leaning in slightly, his expression grew more thoughtful. “can i ask you something personal?” he began, his voice measured and quiet. you nodded, unsure where he was going with this. “are you seeing anyone right now?”

˚ ༘♡ the question caught you off guard. you hesitated, but there was no point in pretending. with a quiet sigh, you opened up about your past, your brief, ill-fated marriage, your ex-husband’s abandonment, and the struggles that had followed. sang-woo listened intently, his gaze steady, never betraying judgment or discomfort. when you finished, he offered a small, empathetic smile and reached across the table, his hand brushing yours lightly. “you’ve been through so much, but you’re doing a wonderful job as a mother,” he said, his words sincere. before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, quick and discreet, ensuring your daughter didn’t see.

˚ ༘♡ the gesture left you momentarily speechless, your heart racing in a way it hadn’t in years. cho sang-woo was everything society valued, handsome, intelligent, and successful. yet, you couldn’t ignore the gap between your worlds. a single mother scraping by on meager wages didn’t belong in the same orbit as a man like him, no matter how kind he was. you told yourself he was simply a good friend, someone who offered comfort in a lonely existence. but the truth was harder to dismiss, and the growing fondness you felt for him remained long after that night.

˚ ༘♡ weeks later, the strain of your financial troubles bore down on you more heavily than ever. the debt had spiraled out of control, and every day felt like a losing battle to stay afloat. you were walking home one evening when a sharply dressed man approached you, his presence almost unsettling in its precision. he introduced himself with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and held out two small folded squares of paper. “care for a game of ddakji?” he asked, his tone cheerful but with an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite place. “if you win, you’ll get one hundred thousand won. if you lose, i get to slap you.”

˚ ༘♡ desperation clouded your judgment, and against your better instincts, you agreed. the first few rounds ended in failure, each slap stinging more than the last. but you persisted, driven by the thought of what that money could mean for your daughter. finally, with trembling hands and a burst of determination, you flipped the paper correctly. the man handed you the cash with an unsettling smile and then extended a business card. “call this number if you want to win more,” he said, his words lingering in your mind as you walked away clutching the money.

˚ ༘♡ that night, after tucking your daughter into bed, you stared at the card for what felt like hours. the temptation was overwhelming, and in the end, it won. you called the number, your voice shaking as you gave your name and address. within minutes, a sleek black limousine pulled up in front of your building, its windows tinted so dark you couldn’t see inside. stepping in, you barely had time to settle before a strange chemical filled the air, and the world went dark.

˚ ༘♡ when you awoke, the surroundings were unfamiliar and unnerving. rows of bunk beds stretched endlessly across a vast room, the walls painted a distasteful shade of green. you looked down and saw the plain jumpsuit you now wore, the number 017 stitched onto the fabric. confusion and fear gripped you, but one thought rose above the chaos, your daughter was at home, and you had to survive this for her, to give the life she deserved.

˚ ༘♡ the goal of winning was your aspiration when the first game began. at first glance, it seemed absurd, red light, green light, a relic from childhood memories long buried beneath the weight of adulthood. the vibrant, oversized doll at the far end of the field seemed almost laughable in its stillness, its painted smile eerie but harmless. but that illusion shattered when the first player was eliminated. the sound of the gunshot echoed through the air, followed by the horrifying sight of their lifeless body collapsing onto the dirt. the cheerful voice announcing the rules continued without pause, as though nothing had happened.

˚ ༘♡ panic erupted among the players. shouts of disbelief and terror filled the air as dozens bolted toward the exits, frantic and desperate to escape. one by one, they were struck down, their bodies littering the field as if caught in an invisible storm. the realization hit you like a physical blow, this was no game. this was life and death, and you were standing in its grasp. your knees trembled under the weight of fear, and your breaths came shallow and quick. every instinct screamed at you to run, to flee the nightmare unfolding around you.

˚ ༘♡ “the doll’s eyes are motion sensors. don’t move.”

˚ ༘♡ the voice came from behind, quiet but firm, cutting through the chaos. you turned your head slightly, careful to avoid triggering the sensors. it was cho sang-woo, his expression as composed as ever, though his voice carried an edge you had never heard before. his presence shocked you, why was he here? he had a prestigious job, a beautiful home, a life far removed from the misery that had led you to this place. what could have driven him to join this horrifying spectacle? but there was no time for answers. survival demanded your complete attention.

˚ ༘♡ you fixed your gaze on the doll, its head swiveling unnervingly to scan the players. the melody began again, and with it, the rules of survival. move forward, stop immediately, stay frozen. you forced yourself to take small, deliberate steps, resisting the overwhelming urge to sprint. each time the doll’s head turned, you froze, your body taut with fear, your heart pounding so loudly it seemed deafening. every second stretched into eternity, every step forward a test of willpower.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo crossed the finish line seconds before you, his figure stoic as he turned his back to the field. you pushed onward, your focus unyielding, until you finally crossed the line with seconds to spare. the tension in your body snapped, leaving your legs weak beneath you, but you remained upright, clinging to the knowledge that you had survived, for now. you glanced toward sang-woo, hoping for some acknowledgment, but he avoided your gaze entirely, turning away as if you were a stranger.

˚ ༘♡ once the last player stumbled through, the harsh blare of a horn signaled the end of the game, and the survivors were ushered back into the dormitory. the atmosphere was suffocating, the air thick with tension and fear as the reality of what they had just endured began to sink in. the sight of so many bodies lying lifeless on the field haunted you, but there was no time to grieve, no space to process. the masked guards stood silent and menacing, a constant reminder that you were trapped under their watchful gaze.

˚ ༘♡ as the players murmured among themselves, questions and disbelief rippling through the crowd, one of the masked guards stepped forward. his voice was distorted through the microphone, chilling in its detachment. “to remind you why you are here, we will reveal the amount of debt each of you owes.”

˚ ༘♡ the room fell silent, a collective tension building as a screen lit up on one of the walls. one by one, the players’ faces appeared, alongside staggering amounts of debt. gasps and whispers spread as the numbers grew larger and larger, each amount more crippling than the last. when your face appeared, the sum displayed made your stomach churn, a figure so vast it felt insurmountable, nearly half a billion won, a reflection of every foolish decision you had made to keep your daughter fed and housed.

˚ ༘♡ but the room truly stilled when cho sang-woo’s face appeared on the screen. his debt was six billion won. the air seemed to grow heavier as the number glowed on the screen, an incomprehensible weight tied to the man who had always seemed so polished, so composed, so untouchable. a few players exchanged shocked glances, but sang-woo’s expression didn’t waver. his face remained unreadable, a mask of calm that betrayed none of the turmoil he might have felt.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t stop staring at him. six billion won? how could someone with his education, his prestigious career, have ended up in such a dire position? questions swirled in your mind, but the icy tone of the guard’s voice broke through your thoughts. “this is what brought you here. this is what you must fight to overcome.”

˚ ༘♡ as the screen darkened, the room buzzed with subdued murmurs. the revelation had shifted the atmosphere, exposing the cracks in the carefully guarded facades of those around you. it was a stark reminder that no one here was truly secure, no matter how confident or composed they appeared.

˚ ༘♡ murmurs of confusion and disbelief filled the air. then, to your astonishment, sang-woo stepped forward and initiated a vote to end the game. the announcement caused a ripple of hope, and soon the vote began. by the narrowest margin, the majority chose to leave. the thought of returning to your daughter filled you with relief, even as unease lingered in your mind.

˚ ༘♡ back in the outside world, you clung to the brief sense of normalcy that returning home provided. your daughter’s laughter was a salve to your frayed nerves, but the relief was fleeting. the reality of your situation hit like a tidal wave when you opened the door to find loan sharks waiting, their demands sharper and more insistent than before. a stack of bills sat ominously on your table, a chilling reminder that leaving the game hadn’t erased your debts. it had only delayed the inevitable.

˚ ༘♡ when the sleek black limousine returned, you didn’t hesitate. you kissed your daughter’s forehead, returned her to the care of your elderly neighbor, and climbed into the car, your resolve hardening. the gas filled the air once again, and the world faded into unconsciousness. when you awoke, you were back in the same vast dormitory, the green jumpsuit hanging from your frame like a prison uniform.

˚ ༘♡ to your surprise, and perhaps dismay, sang-woo had returned as well. he stood apart from the crowd, his expression carefully neutral, as though he had already resigned himself to whatever horrors lay ahead. you couldn’t help but feel a pang of curiosity and frustration. what could have brought him back to this nightmare? but his presence, as unsettling as it was, also brought a sliver of comfort. at least one person here wasn’t a complete stranger. whether he acknowledged you or not, the fact that he was there, breathing the same air, enduring the same fate, made the unbearable feel slightly less isolating.

˚ ༘♡ as you climbed through the maze of brightly colored block structures on your way to the second game, the oppressive silence among the players was broken only by the occasional scrape of shoes against the smooth surfaces. the atmosphere was suffocating, each person wrapped in their own thoughts of survival. as you reached the next passageway, you caught sight of sang-woo walking a few steps ahead, his broad shoulders unmistakable even in the dull green jumpsuit. you quickened your pace, weaving around other players until you came up beside him.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo?” you called out hesitantly, unsure if he even wanted to be acknowledged. “it’s good to see you.”

˚ ༘♡ he turned to face you, his expression weary, his sharp features softened by exhaustion. his glasses were gone, leaving his face bare in a way that felt unfamiliar. the hollowness in his eyes made your heart ache, a stark contrast to the composed man you once knew. “it’s good to see you as well,” he said quietly, though his tone carried an undercurrent of shame. his gaze drifted downward, as though he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes for long.

˚ ༘♡ you hesitated, unsure whether to press him further, but the words poured out before you could stop them. “sang-woo, i had no idea you were in so much debt. i thought…” you faltered, the unfinished sentence hanging heavily in the air. you couldn’t bring yourself to say it aloud, the claims you’d heard about client embezzlement and loans swirling in your mind. surely, he wouldn’t have stolen money from his workplace? the man you thought you knew wouldn’t sink to such levels, or so you hoped.

˚ ༘♡ his lips pressed into a thin line, his expression tightening. “we can talk later, alright?” his voice was calm, but the subtle edge warned you not to push further. he looked away, focusing on the corridor ahead, his discomfort palpable.

˚ ༘♡ before you could respond, the masked guards appeared, their presence commanding immediate attention. one of them stepped forward, his voice cold and distorted as he barked instructions. “players, form a line in front of the four doors, triangle, circle, star, and umbrella.” the straightforward simplicity of the directive only heightened your unease. no explanation was given, and the purpose of the shapes remained a mystery.

˚ ༘♡ you watched as sang-woo leaned toward the group of players he had been speaking with, his voice low but audible. “we should split up,” he suggested. “i’ll take the triangle.” his tone was measured, but there was something deliberate in the way he spoke, as though he knew more than he was letting on.

˚ ༘♡ you stepped closer, offering him a faint smile. “i’ll take the star,” you said, trying to inject a bit of optimism into the tension-filled space.

˚ ༘♡ his jaw tightened visibly, and he shook his head, the motion slow and deliberate. “no,” he said, his voice firm. his friends had already dispersed, blending into the lines forming at the other doors, but he didn’t move. his gaze locked onto yours, unflinching.

˚ ༘♡ “why not?” you asked, confused by his sudden insistence.

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated, the pause stretching long enough to feel significant. “i think you should stick with me,” he said finally. “for a woman, the next game could be dangerous, and you might need protection. choose triangle with me.”

˚ ༘♡ there was something in his tone, persuasive as it could be, that made it impossible to refuse. though his reasoning unsettled you, you nodded, falling into line behind him as the players shuffled forward. your eyes scanned the room anxiously, searching for any clue as to what lay ahead.

˚ ༘♡ when the game was finally revealed, your stomach sank. the guards handed each player a thin tin containing a piece of dalgona candy. the shape on the door you had chosen corresponded to the delicate imprint in the sugar, triangle for you and sang-woo. the instructions were chillingly simple, extract the shape from the brittle candy without breaking it. failure meant elimination.

˚ ༘♡ as you stared down at the candy in your hands, your breath hitched. the triangle, though angular and sharp, was mercifully the easiest of the shapes. your fingers trembled as you picked up the needle provided, its point glinting under the harsh overhead lights. you glanced at sang-woo, who was already at work on his candy, his face an unreadable mask. you offered him a small, grateful smile, relieved that his advice had spared you a more complicated shape. he acknowledged it with a weak nod but didn’t look up from his task.

˚ ༘♡ the room was filled with the sound of quiet scraping, interspersed with the occasional crack of breaking candy and the deafening gunshots that followed. each failure sent a ripple of fear through the players, the stakes of the game becoming all too real. your hands shook uncontrollably as you traced the edges of the triangle, the needle’s tip scraping against the delicate surface. beads of sweat formed on your forehead, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

˚ ༘♡ finally, with painstaking caution, you lifted the triangle free from the candy, the edges intact. relief flooded through you, though your hands continued to tremble as you approached one of the masked guards. holding up the completed shape, you waited for his acknowledgment. “player 218, player 017, pass,” the voice from the speaker announced, devoid of emotion.

˚ ༘♡ as you and sang-woo stepped into the expansive player quarters, the dim lighting and echo of murmured conversations created an atmosphere that felt dreadful yet oddly subdued. the space was filled with rows of bunks stacked high, each one occupied by players whose expressions ranged from numb exhaustion to quiet fear. you glanced around briefly before turning your attention to him, your gratitude bubbling to the surface.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo, you saved my life,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. the words carried a weight you couldn’t ignore. “i wouldn’t have had the precision or patience to cut out the star. thank you for convincing me to choose triangle.”

˚ ༘♡ he paused mid-step, his shoulders tensing ever so slightly as he turned to look at you. his expression was calm, but there was something unreadable in his gaze, a flicker of thought he didn’t voice. you tilted your head, your curiosity piqued as a question formed in your mind. “did you know it was going to be dalgona?” your voice held both curiosity and suspicion. he was intelligent, brilliant, in fact. it wouldn’t have surprised you if he had pieced together clues that no one else had noticed. but then again, if he had known, wouldn’t he have told his friends?

˚ ༘♡ his lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he looked almost reluctant to answer. “i didn’t,” he said finally, his tone measured and deliberate. “it was a lucky guess, i suppose.” but there was something about the way he said it that left you unconvinced. his words felt too crafted, too careful, as if he were guarding a truth he wasn’t ready to share.

˚ ༘♡ before you could probe further, he shifted the conversation, his gaze tender as he looked at you. “come on,” he said, his voice quieter now. “you look like you’re about to collapse, and i can hardly stay upright myself after how draining that game was. let’s try and relax our nerves.”

˚ ༘♡ you nodded, the tension in your body loosening slightly as his words pulled you away from your thoughts. together, you made your way to an unoccupied bunk in one of the quieter corners of the dormitory. as you sat down, the fatigue of the day hit you like a wave, the adrenaline that had kept you going during the game now fully drained from your system.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo leaned against the metal frame of the bunk, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. his face was pale under the fluorescent lights, and the dark circles under his eyes betrayed how much the game had taken out of him. for a moment, the silence between you felt almost comfortable, a reprieve from the chaos that had defined the day.

˚ ༘♡ “you know,” you said after a while, your voice barely above a whisper, “i don’t know how you stayed so calm out there. i felt like i was going to fall apart the entire time.”

˚ ༘♡ he let out a low breath, not quite a sigh, as his eyes shifted to the floor. “i wasn’t calm,” he admitted. “i was terrified, but fear doesn’t help you survive. you have to focus, no matter what.” his words were matter-of-fact, but there was an edge to them, a glimpse of the pressure he carried that he rarely allowed others to see.

˚ ༘♡ you studied him for a moment, your gratitude mingling with a growing sense of unease. there was so much about him that remained a mystery, layers of calculation and restraint that made it impossible to fully understand what he was thinking. but for now, you were too tired to dwell on it.

˚ ༘♡ “thank you, sang-woo,” you said again, your voice softer this time. you meant it, not simply for his advice during the game, but for the quiet sense of stability he brought in a world that felt increasingly unmoored.

˚ ༘♡ he gave a faint nod, his lips curving into the barest hint of a smile. “get some rest,” he said, his tone gentle but steadfast. “tomorrow will probably be worse.”

a/n: can you all tell my favorite character is cho sang-woo? don’t worry, part two of the hwang in-ho x wife series will be out soon! let me know your thoughts! 🤍

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer!Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 1]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism] Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 2.6k

Authors Note: I have this listed as "part one", because I may want to continue it in the future! This is just an idea that I've had floating around in my head, and I really haven't been inspired to write more of my other story lately, so why not put this out? If you'd like more of this story, please let me know and I can possibly continue it, if it's something y'all are interested in!

(It got another part)

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

New York City is always bustling on a Monday morning. Crowds of people piling onto the sprawling connection of subway, buses and sidewalks on their way for another week of hard work. Jung Kook was among them, wearing a discounted, freshly pressed suit, and a fresh cup of Starbucks coffee in his hand. AirPods in his ear, he let the newest pop playlist cover up the sound of the crowded street on his way to his new office. There was a little, barely noticeable pep in his step, hinting at his excitement for his first day. 

His office building was rather large, even by his own metrics. Coming from Seoul, Jung Kook was no stranger to towering buildings, but this fresh law office had something glistening about its structure. As he entered through the front rotating tour, scanning the pass in his lanyard to be let in, any seasoned attorney would quickly recognize the wide-eyed young man as an ambitious rookie. 

“Jung Kook!” A voice called out from across the lobby. Jung Kook stopped walking and looked up, scanning the room to see Mr. Kim Namjoon, one of the best defense attorneys he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting, greeting him with a dimpled smile. 

“Good morning, Mr. Kim!” Jung Kook responded, quickly making his way over to greet him. 

“Aish, Jung Kook. Call me Namjoon.” He smiled shyly. “We’ll be working together as partners, I won’t be just a mentor to you anymore. I want you to feel comfortable around me.” 

“Right, of course.” Jung Kook grinned. “Thank you for bringing me here, I’m really excited.” 

“That’s great to hear.” Namjoon’s voice was warm and sincere. “I wasn’t sure how’d willing you’d be to leave Korea, but I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Yeah, it um…” Jung Kook pauses, thinking to himself for a moment for the right words to say. “It was a move that was for the best.” 

Namjoon kept a smile on his face, but furrowed his brows just briefly as he read into the younger man’s explanation. Not wanting to press too much, he motioned Jung Kook to follow him to the elevator. They walked together with comfortable conversation, questions about Jung Kook’s move to the city and his commute. As the elevator took them high above the rest of the city, Jung Kook’s finger absentmindedly tapped on the coffee cup he held, jitters taking over. 

“We had a case come in that I think you’ll be perfect to help me with.” Namjoon said, leading Jung Kook to his new office overlooking the city. There was an unorganized set of case files already on the desk. “You can put your stuff here, please make this space your own. The case is centering a Korean family, actually, so I thought maybe the two of us could connect with them on that level. Wealthy family, they’ve been doing business in the States a long time. But the son of the founder just recently inherited the company, and he’s being accused of defrauding investors. I need you to look over the case, and tell me what you think.” 

Jung Kook nodded as he took his seat at his desk, opening up the file to read the defendant’s name, Park Jimin. The name sounded oddly familiar to him, but he brushed it aside as he read the details of the case. 

“…Coaxed into investments using fraudulent and misleading data and projections…” Jung Kook read out loud, under his breath, before looking up at Namjoon. “So, he allegedly massaged the numbers into looking bigger than they are, leading to an increase of investments.” 

“Hm.” Namjoon hummed, leaning against the door frame. “Then when the actual numbers came in, and they were nowhere close to what he had projected, he didn’t have the money to pay out. Now it’s our problem.” 

“Yeah, ok.” Jung Kook nodded. “I have some ideas but I’d like to ask him some questions.” 

“Perfect. I’ll give you his contact info, but he should be flying into the city tomorrow. He wants to meet with us anyways, he just needed a little time.” 

“For what?” 

“He recently got engaged.” Namjoon responded nonchalantly, scrolling through the contacts in his iPhone. “She comes from a wealthy family from Busan, apparently. Their fathers knew each other, since they’re both from the city..” 

“Oh, they’re both from my city, I knew his name sounded familiar.” Jung Kook acknowledged. “Since her family is wealthy, maybe I’ve heard of them, too. What’s her name?” 

“Aish, I can’t remember…” Namjoon thought for a moment. “Mr. Park mentioned her, and now my mind is blanking.” 

The two startled when Namjoon’s phone rang. Namjoon apologized before stepping out to take the client’s call, leaving Jung Kook with his case files to further review. The rest of the day passed for the new, young lawyer, buried in a mountain of papers and taking notes. Namjoon peeked into his office on occasion to bring him coffee, or chat, or ask him about the case. But it was a slow, calm first day. 

As was the next day, and the day after that. Jung Kook got into a routine as the weeks passed, feeling a growing sense of familiarity with the way that he was able to bury himself in his work. It was a nice way to briefly consume himself and chase away the loneliness of the last two years of his life. 

He slowly made friends at his new firm. Never the extrovert, he was shy at first and afraid to open up. But knowing Namjoon for several years gave him a foot in the door, and allowed him an entry way into conversations that he wouldn’t have had otherwise. They asked about his life back home, and never dug too deep when he gave vague answers. He appreciated that, and his colleagues grew to like the handsome young lawyer. 

Finally, on a Friday, as the week was winding down and Jung Kook was thinking of possible weekend plans, Namjoon quickly walked into his office after a brief warning knock to his door. 

“We have a surprise meeting with Mr. Park.” Namjoon explained. “He just flew in from Seoul with his fiancé, and called me to say they want to meet with us. They’ll be here in a few minutes, so grab your notes and meet me in the conference room.” 

Jung Kook’s eyes widened and he responded with a quick “ok”, before gathering up his collection of papers into a manila folder, and walking to meet Namjoon, stopping momentarily only to grab another quick cup of coffee to make sure he was alert. Being his first client meeting since joining the firm, he wanted to make sure he was at his best. 

Settling into the conference room, Jung Kook looked over his notes, and made sure to have a pen to write down anything he may need later. He could see a light reflection of himself in the wall of windows facing the rest of the office, which he used to make sure his hair and suit looked presentable. He was hoping that with the money he made off of this case, he could buy a new, nicer suit like the one he saw in a shop window that he passed by not long ago. 

His thoughts of a modest suit however were quieted by the presence of what he knew immediately to be his client walking down the office halls, nearing the conference room. Dressed in a luxurious, designer black suit and Louboutin loafers, Park Jimin was striking at first glance. He hid his eyes behind black sunglasses despite being indoors, and his dyed blonde hair complimented his glowing complexion and lush, pink lips. He looked expensive, the textbook definition of an heir. 

The woman by his side looked gorgeous, Jung Kook thought. She was also beautifully dressed, in a sharp, maroon pencil dress and heels, with sunglasses also covering her eyes. Her Chanel bag dangled off her shoulder, her head was down, and her hand was intertwined with Mr. Park’s as they walked.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Park.” Namjoon greeted with a bow as he opened the door for the couple. “How was the flight in?” 

“It was excellent, thank you. Please, call me Jimin.” Jimin responded, taking off his sunglasses, before turning his attention to Jung Kook. “Hello, I’m not sure we’ve met.” 

“Jeon Jung Kook. I’ve just recently been added to look over the case.” Jung Kook smiled, standing up from his chair to bow. “It’s a pleasure.” 

“Park Jimin.” Jimin introduced himself. “And this is my fiancé, Y/N.” 

Y/N. Jung Kook repeated in his head, his eyes widening. It’s not possible. 

You took off your glasses before bowing to Namjoon, and raised to meet Jung Kook’s eyes. Your expression matched his own, recognizing the man instantly. 

“Jung Kook?” You smiled warmly. “Jeon Jung Kook? Oh my God, what a small world!” 

“You two know each other?” Namjoon asked with a raised brow. He looked over at the young lawyer, who was staring at you with large eyes and parted lips. 

“Jung Kook is an old classmate of mine.” You explained to Namjoon and your fiancé. “We went to the same university ages ago, when we were still living in Busan.” 

This was Jung Kook’s worst nightmare unfolding right before his eyes. Here you were. You. Just as warm, beautiful, and personable as ever. Just as clueless as ever. It was amazing how you could be such an angel, but put him through so much pain, and not even know it. 

“How have you been?” You asked with an innocent, bright grin. “I haven’t seen you in so long!” 

“I-I’ve… been good.” Jung Kook stuttered, causing the other men in the room to look at him with growing suspicion. 

“Honey, I don’t know that you’ve ever mentioned a Jung Kook.” Jimin said in a sweet tone directed at you, while his eyes judgmentally looked Jung Kook up and down. Namjoon nervously watched the interaction, waiting to bud in at any opportune time. 

“We just had a couple classes together.” You explained. “Jung Kook, wasn’t it um…” 

“History.” He finished your sentence, quicker and more deadpan in his tone than what he meant to. “And our political science class.” 

“That’s right!” You nodded. “I remember you were always so smart, I guess it makes perfect sense you practice law now.” 

“We’re happy to have him on the team.” Namjoon interjected, walking over to Jung Kook’s side of the table. He noted how Jimin still seemed unsure of Jung Kook’s mannerisms, and wanted to press on with the meeting. “Let’s get started, I’m sure the two of you have plans for the evening.” 

Everyone took their seat, and Jung Kook stared at the blank notepad in front of him. He could feel Jimin’s eyes on him, but pretended not to be bothered. He scribbled down the date on the paper, desperate to not meet the client’s gaze. 

“So, we reviewed the case.” Namjoon began, seeing how Jimin’s death stare didn’t shake from Jung Kook as he spoke. “We think that we have an excellent shot at winning, and to be completely honest, we’re expecting the judge to throw the case out.” 

“That’s great news!” You said excitedly. “Honey, you’ve been so worried about this.” 

Jimin looked at you, his eyes softening and a soft smile appearing. He rested a hand on your thigh, and looked over towards Namjoon. 

“That is great news. Thank you, Mr. Kim.” 

“Jung Kook has been reviewing the case for several days now, and he put together a couple arguments that we’ll present to the court, and have this ordeal finished, so you can move on.” 

“Y-Yeah, so um…” Jung Kook started, the weight of everyone’s stare feeling heavy and thick in the air. He was careful to avoid your eyes in particular, sure that his reaction would be less than professional. “First of all, the numbers allegedly presented to investors were never your numbers, Mr. Park, they were the numbers that your father had supposedly projected. The suit is filed against you, not the company, so we can argue that you cannot be held personably liable for any losses. A-Also, there’s no um… There’s no physical evidence of these exact projections being shown that the plaintiffs presented so um… We could argue insufficient evidence.” 

If Jung Kook were brave, he’d look up from his notes to see the way you grinned at him with the same, beautiful smile he used to see walking across campus every day. If he were brave, he’d tell you how beautiful that smile, and the rest of you, have always been to him. 

If he were brave, he would’ve told you that a long time ago. But Jung Kook has never been brave. Not then, and definitely not now. Not when his client is shooting daggers at him from across the table, and a sparkling 24k gold and diamond on your finger reminds him of the thing he’s always known; you’re too good for someone like him. You deserve more. 

“I think that sounds like an excellent plan.” Jimin said calmly, eyeing the young lawyer up and down, before turning his attention to you. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “I think Mr. Jeon has this whole thing figured out. What do you think, darling?”

“I agree.” You blushed at your fiancé’s uncharacteristic public affection. “He’s always been so smart.” 

“It seems so.” Jimin responded. “In that case, I believe we can wrap up this check-in meeting. I’d like to take my love out to dinner tonight. It’s her first time in New York City.” 

“Is it?” Namjoon’s voice was pleasant but quick as he spoke. “Well, let’s not keep you two waiting. Thank you for coming in, and we’ll be in touch. Please, Mr. Park, don’t be afraid to reach out to either of us if you need anything.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jimin said, getting up from his chair and helping you out of yours before bowing to the lawyers. 

“Jung Kook, it was so nice to see you.” You said, waving at him while Jimin placed a hand on your back to lead you from the room. “Thank you for working on this for us.” 

“O-Of course.” He bowed. “You two have a nice night.” 

With that, Jimin led you away from the room and down the office, and Jung Kook watched as he took your hand in his and caressed your skin with his thumb. It amazed him how even after all this time, seeing you with another man makes his chest ache. 

“So….” Namjoon’s irritable voice said, leaning against the table. “You want to tell me what the fuck that was about?” 

“It’s nothing.” Jung Kook responded quietly, cleaning up his papers to avoid making eye contact. “Just an old classmate.” 

“Nothing?” Namjoon asked with a scoff. “Our client just burned a hole through you with his glare the entire meeting, and you want to call that nothing?” 

“I want to go home.” Jung Kook said with growing frustration. “I promise, it’s nothing. It’s just been a hard first few weeks, ok?” 

Jung Kook was headed out the door quickly, when Namjoon grabbed his arm to make him stop for a moment.

“If something is going on with our client’s fiancé… if there’s a history there or whatever, you need to let me know so we can manage this. We can’t lose Jimin as a client, we’d both be out of a job. He brings in too much money.” 

“What, does he get into this type of shit a lot or something?” 

“What do you think?” Namjoon asks. “It’s part of the job, dealing with rich clients that have more money than sense. They didn’t teach you that in class? Or were you too busy ogling her?” 

“It’s really nothing.” Jung Kook said, this time more calmly through gritted teeth. “I just need to go home.” 

Namjoon sighed as Jung Kook left the room, and cursed his luck with the obvious situation under his breath. 

[burningembers91]

Powder Blue Dress - Cho Hyun-Ju x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: For the first time, Cho Hyun-Ju is living the life she had always wanted. But when you move into her apartment block, will she allow herself to open up?

A/N: This is my first time writing for a transgender character, and I really hope I've done her justice. I adored her character is Squid Game

Warnings: mentions of transphobia, low self-esteem

Cho Hyun-Ju had always known she was different. She couldn’t precisely pinpoint when exactly, but she’d always had an inkling that wasn’t like her family or friends. She’d tried hard to make a life for herself, to pretend that she was happy in a body that felt completely alien to her. She tried to build relationships, shape her career and mould herself into something her family would be proud of. But the more time that passed, the more she realised that she was living a lie. This male body, it didn’t suit her, it wasn’t who she was on the inside. She was tired of looking in the mirror and not recognising the person that stared back, she was tired of people not understanding how uncomfortable she felt in her own skin.

The day she told her family she wanted to transition from male to female was a day she would never forget. There was so much anger, so much shouting. She was ejected from her parent’s house immediately and told in no uncertain terms to never darken their doorway again. She had thought her friends would be a little more understanding, but they too started to distance themselves. They called and texted less, stopped inviting her out with them. She didn’t expect much from her work and wasn’t surprised when they fired her after she told them about her dreams of transitioning into the woman she’d always known she was. she went from being surrounded by a network of family and friends to being utterly alone in the space of three weeks. Hyun-Ju packed up and moved to a small apartment on the other side of the city. She put her past out of her mind and chose to look forward instead. She grew her hair, started experimenting with makeup. She took a job in a warehouse, picking up extra shifts whenever she could to bolster up her savings into order to pay for top surgery and the hormonal medication she needed. It had been tough, and she’d taken out several loans she couldn’t afford, but the debt was worth to finally be able to look in the mirror and recognise the woman she saw smiling back.

Most days were still a challenge; people loved to stare. She understood why though, she was a 6ft female in a dress who still had a six o’clock shadow. Hyun-Ju ignored the stares and the jeers, but life was so lonely now. She found the courage to go and shop in a boutique she’d passed a few times, buying herself a few dresses and a pair of ballet flats. She was desperate to showcase her more feminine look, but where was she supposed to go when everyone was pretending she no longer existed?

She ran into you in the lobby of the apartment block one day, and her world was forever altered. “Cute dress!” you exclaimed, admiring the powder blue cotton with lace details. “It’s absolutely stunning!” Hyun-Ju felt herself blush, and her smile was so wide it made her jaw ache. No one had ever complimented her style, not before or since her transition. She wanted to ask you out for coffee, but something stopped her. Just because a person likes your clothing, it doesn’t mean they like you. But she kept running into you, and every time she did you made her blush and smile all over again. It was you who finally made the first move, inviting her out for cocktails. You were new to Seoul, and the pretty girl in the powder blue dress made your heart sing.

The two of you became inseparable, and Hyun-Ju found herself able to open up to someone for the first time in her life. You were a great listener, and you never once made her feel invalidated or wrong. You made her laugh, and the two of you spent hours together talking about everything and nothing. You were the greatest friend Hyun-Ju had ever known, and she slowly found herself wishing you could be more. But you were the beautiful girl with the sparkle in her eye and the confidence of Beyonce, and she was still scared that you’d turn her down, that she wouldn’t be enough for you.

“You have a beautiful smile,” you told her one evening, after you’d spent the night watching a comedy on Netflix and eating your bodyweight in chocolate. Hyun-Ju didn’t meet your eye as she thanked you, and you wished she could see herself the way you did. She was funny, and kind and so beautiful to you. You wanted to tell her all this, but you were terrified of pushing her away. She’d been so open and honest with you, and you didn’t want her to think you were taking advantage of her.

As she said goodnight to you, and headed back to her own apartment, Hyun-Ju studied her smile in the mirror. She wished she could see what you did, and she wished she could tell you how much you meant to her. But a lifetime of hiding your true feelings had left its mark on her. There was still so much fear and anxiety of opening up. Sure, she’d told you about her past and her transition journey but opening up to someone romantically was something she hadn’t done before. She wasn’t even sure how you felt, and she could have the situation completely wrong.

As she climbed into bed that night, she thought of you. She thought of your melodic laugh, your perfect sense of humour. She thought about the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the way your floral perfume wrapped her in the sweetest of hugs. She wondered how it would feel to kiss you, to have you run your hand through her hair. As she looked up at the stars shining over the city, she had no idea you were thinking of her as well.