#so if you liked this or any in the au series | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ctrlhope · 2 days ago

Text

Chasing Tornados (m)

synopsis: Ever since you were young, you found solstice in the clouds. Found haven in their winding winds, their chilling storms. Monsters of the air meant to destroy became your love— your safety. You know everything about the skies, yet you only want to know more about him. Wish for him to love you just as much as you do him. Your best friend. Your scorpion. Your impossible. Your Yoongi. -> part of the rest, relax, reserve series

m.yoongi x f.reader

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : wc: 21.0k+

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : genre: hybrid au, storm chasers au, soulmate au, friends/coworkers to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : content: scorpion hybrid!yoongi x human!reader, storm chaser!yoongi+reader, angst, semi-public sex (bathroom), fingering, p in v, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, bratty!reader a lil, rough sex, thigh riding, sex under the influence (alcohol), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, one mention of a breeding kink, yoongi has a tail, mates, misunderstandings, fights, jealousy, non-linear storytelling, reader and yoongi are both kinda stupid idk, but also v cute, angst but a happy ending <33

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : notes: heyyyyy it’s ur girl, back with another mc let’s play video!! kidding lol, sorry this took so long to write, life has been really hectic. trust me on this fic lol. but i rlly fell in love with these two nd I hope you do too <33 and i hope u enjoy my attempts at comedy! remember!! my requests are always open nd you can always feel free to send asks to characters <33

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

Wind wraps in your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in your ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person.

But you, no. Not you. You live for this. Live for the rain that beats into your skin. Live for the cracks of thunder roaring above your head. Find serenity in the dark clouds that hang overhead, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In the knowledge that it's coming. That it’s coming soon.

The world acts as something greater- something more than yourself. A collective that has not a care for you or the people in it. A system acting for its own desires. A storm that takes and takes and takes until there's nothing left to give.

You love it. Love every second of it.

Even if you should be scared, even if you should be terrified– look for cover just like everyone else. To hide and cower away from the winding beast that destroys homes, takes down power lines. That kills. You can’t. Not when you feel this– this calling deep in your bones. This calling to know more. This calling to conquer a monster.

To chase the impossible.

You have always lived for that very thing. Have constructed your entire life around finding answers for beasts that are beyond reason, to construct something real from what can only be construed as fake. To look the storm in the eye, to live within it rather than to be consumed.

And that is exactly why you stand where you find yourself now. Tornado Alley. A storm brewing just in front of you. Warm air meeting cold, finding breath, coming to life.

Maybe you should be scared. Maybe you should let panic set you alight and carry you far, far away from the death spirals. Maybe you should do a lot of things, yet you can't. You can only stare in wonder as rain hits your flesh. As the wind tries to take your clothes, battering them in the breeze. As electricity cracks above your head, light debris flying past your form to entertain the forming tornadoes fury.

Bang, Bang, Bang.

Now that sound isn't from the storm, it can’t be. Sounds too much like metal, like a fist hitting it. Oh right, the car.

“(Y/n) get your ass in here, now!” His voice is loud, forced to so you could hear him above the storm. He would never yell otherwise. Never raise his voice a single decibel against you.

Your body turns to face him, a smile breaking across your cheeks without a second thought. Eyes turning to crescents, rain dripping down your cheeks.

Right, Yoongi.

The impossible.

You don’t know when it happened. It shouldn’t have happened. But you knew it did. Felt the shift in your soul whenever you looked at him, felt your blood pumping just a fraction faster whenever he was close. Felt yourself yearn to smell his signature Yoongi scent whenever you sat in his car, whenever he drove you around on one of your little escapades.

Maybe it was a year ago. Maybe less. Maybe more. You could never be sure– emotions never were your strong suit. But he knew that, and he didn’t care. Never pressured or pried, always just let the two of you be. Act in co-existence in a way you doubt two people could.

Your partner in crime, your solace among the disarray perpetuating every second of your job– your life. The only person you knew crazy enough to chase the storms with you. To risk their life driving you into the eye. Your right hand man. Your friend.

None of it should have happened. But it did anyway. Isn’t that always the way life goes? The same way the storms control the skies, he found himself controlling your heart with no will of his own. No knowledge of the underlying flutter that found its way into your guts the second he looked at you, nor any knowledge of the way your eyes fell into adoration when they fell on him.

Why did you have to fall in love with the storm?

You weren’t sure– never cared to look deeper into the fact. Never cared to think about why you couldn’t fathom a future without him. Never dared to dip into why the scrawny kid from your college has suddenly become a man before you. Never even thought to challenge the pre-disposed ideologies that held your friendship by its core.

No. You would never do anything as stupid as that.

Yes, you were a creature of impulse. Never the type to take into account the consequences your actions disclosed. But you like to chase the impossible. You would never think to actually attempt to change it. Especially when you could lose everything in the process. Lose him.

In more ways than one.

Plus, you know where he stands. Know he could never see you as anything more than a friend– a little sister. The hair ruffles, the slight glares he gives when men talk to you in the bars, the way he puts up with your ‘overly affectionate’ cuddles– as much as you wish the simple actions meant more, you knew they simply didn’t.

A big brother. Unfortunately for you, he knows that’s the role he plays in your life too well.

But he’s not your big brother. He's a man, you’re a woman. It’s not like you ever asked to get caught up in the stringers that tangled you together. Not like you ever asked for this crush to form.

“For fucks sake! (Y/n)!” His voice is louder now, a harsh yell pulling you from the thoughts that sunk you under the waves. His body forcing itself through the wind to get to you, arm raising to shield his face. “We have to fucking go!!”

He would admonish you later for getting too caught up in your own thoughts again– something you knew all too well. But when the storm was raging around you, it was almost easier to think. To get lost in the recesses of your brain until you drew the conclusion you had been looking for all along.

His hand grips your wrist now, dragging you back to the safety of your company truck all while scolding you harshly with words he never actually meant. Just his salt-coated concern peaking through the surface. And well, his concern about getting swallowed up by the storm. Yeah, most people worry about that kind of stuff. At least that’s what you suppose.

“Are you that fucking stupid?” He shouts roughly at you, forcing you to get in the passenger seat. His touch is gentle even if his words are strong. He always has been strong. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

He slams the door closed before you can say anything back– frustrated but not mad. Never mad at you. And for that you can’t help the giddy feeling on your lips. Your eyes watching him as he quickly walks to his side of the car, tail curled close to his back almost as if to protect himself.

Right, his tail. You forget about it a lot of the time– but at the same, you are so very fond of it. Smile whenever it moves in response to his emotions, giggle whenever he forgets about it himself, tripping over the thing.

You often forget Yoongi isn’t a full human. But it’s never played much of a role in your life, in your friendship. So you don’t really see the point to care. Choose to ignore the scorpion blood that runs through his veins and view him as any other person walking the face of the earth. It’s never bothered you.

Most people around you call you a fool anyway, it’s not much to add another reason to it.

“Ah~ Don’t worry, King Yoongi. I don’t plan on getting myself killed anytime soon.” You let out a gentle giggle as he finds his way into the car, pressing on the gas almost immediately and driving as fast as he can away.

His body is so rigid, so stressed. Yet you can’t be further from it. Your legs propped haphazardly on the dashboard, your body sinking deeper into the seat. You trust him. He always gets you out. Something about his special senses, probably. Maybe.

Actually, you don’t know. You should ask him about it later– how he can see in such horrid conditions.

“You will if I just leave you there.” He rolls his eyes, glancing over to you for only a second before managing back to the road, “Don’t think I won’t.”

“You won’t though.” He only scoffs, but you can see the smile at the corner of his mouth. It warms you almost as much as the sound of the rain– or maybe it's hail now, pelting the roof of the car.

“I could and I will.”

“But you won’t.”

“Just put your fucking seat belt on.” He grumbles, his voice getting a fraction louder as he turns the wheel harshly, a last second manoeuvre. A stick flying through the air past your window. A narrow avoidance.

The car bumps harshly as it drives, the roads narrow and in disarray. Swerving to avoid debris that litters the ground and jumping as it dips into potholes. It feels like a race. Makes you feel alive even as you click the belt into place– as he moves his tail across your frame to act as a second one.

You should be scared. Should be terrified of getting caught in the storm. But you trust Yoongi. You know he’ll always protect you.

“Did the other teams drop their equipment on time?” You ask, reaching below your seat and grabbing the computer. He sends you a pointed glance.

“According to the sensors we were the last ones.”

“Well we always are~” You mumble back, a little sing-song in your voice while your head tilts towards your chin. Eyes scanning the array of measurements that pop up on the screen– reading them, taking in their meaning.

It is your job, anyway.

“Who’s fault is that?” His words don’t perfectly cross your ears, never do when you're trying to focus. An input of too much information at once and a computer might explode! Aka your brain, aka he’s known for years you have selective hearing when trying to understand complicated things.

“Mhmm…” You quietly mumble out, fingers moving quickly to type as he finally drags the car out of the storm. Slows down to a more human speed as you type out a few observations, input pieces of code to make your readings more sensible.

You completely miss the small smile he sends your way, the tilt of his head trying to check. “Anything interesting?”

“Mmm… Nothing we haven’t seen before. Got a couple of cool 3D models of the storm your screen, though…” You tilt the laptop in his direction, showing him the model of the storm. Exactly how big it was, how fast it was moving. “Just an E2, but still pretty.”

“Yeah, had to’ve been to almost let it eat you.”

You roll your eyes, shutting the laptop as he pulls over to the side of the road, “Of course, I’d let anything as pretty as that take me out.”

He scoffs, “Anything, really?”

“Yeah, you know that guy on Attack on Titan that's like ‘oh i’d let a pretty female titan eat’-- Wait a second it is not my fault!” You suddenly announce, his words before finally registering in your mind, “You’re always tinkering with the the the bits!! That’s why it takes so long!”

You grump, crossing your arms. A fond smile finding its way to his lips.

“Yeah, cause the ‘bits’ are the real issue, aren’t they? Not you playing out music videos in your head while a tornado is hurrdaling at us?”

“Okay! That was one time! And totally not my fault!” You huff, not in any real annoyance, just simply banter. Yoongi always seemed to like your over-dramatic reactions anyway. “You said we could play Hurrcane!! By my girl Bridget Mendler! You know what that song does to me!”

He can only laugh in response, the gums of his mouth showing as he tilts his head back. Long black hair falling lower against his shoulders. Tail falling lax for the first time in forever. Crests shown in his eyes.

You like giving Yoongi your reactions if it means he can smile like this.

When he looks in your direction for a breef second, you can’t help but puff out your cheeks and stick out your tounge in pestilence. The action only causing him to shake his head, eyes returning to the road a little brighter than before.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. How could I possibly forget.” A thousand words are said behind his tone that you could never pick up on. Never notice. “You get so excited, like a kid. It’s funny.”

Your head jerks to look at him, a pointed glare in your eye, “She makes me feel things you can’t even hope to understand, Min.”

He rolls his own, “Uh huh. I’m sure.”

College. Senior Year. The perfect hell it bestows on all of its captors.

The combined effort of senior thesis’s, grad school searches, advanced level course work, and the unyielding need for money after graduation, as it turns out, is the best possible combination for stress any one person can find! How wonderful. Especially for you, with a stupid gpa you need to upkeep to keep your stupid scholarships, so you can get your stupid degree and get your stupid job–

Well, okay. Now you’re just spiralling.

Annoyed and tired has never been a good combination for everyday dreamers. Especially those that have been working their entire lives for a single goal. To chase their every last dying hope since they were a child. To become the very person they could only wish to be in their youth.

But in all fairness, your ass has been handed to you on a silver platter after your last exam grade was horribly, terribly slid to you face down against the table. A quiet note of “see me after class” listed on the top without reverie. Your thoughts a sudden cyclone vortexing you inward and onward, wishing you could tell the sweet summer child of your adolescence that you had failed her. That you were never going to be able to live inside a tornado as she had wished.

Oh. The monster that you were.

That was, at least, until you did meet with your professor. And, apparently, he wasn’t going to drop you from the class and (somehow) get you removed from the college like you had thought! Even better, he saw how hard you worked– how much you truly care. Deciding to lend a hand rather than pull it back. Giving you a building and a time to meet with a tutor he specifically picked out.

Someone he would apparently trust his life to. Your life– okay, academic career, to as well.

That’s how you found yourself now. Walking through a library that had to be older than your great grandparents– the scent of mildew filling your nose as you moved farther and farther into the recesses of the building.

Why, exactly, you had to meet in the deepest, darkest corner of the library at an absurd hour of the day confuses you even now. Annoys you a little, quite frankly. Leaving your dorm past 8pm feels like a nightmare.

But you trust your professor, you trust that he wouldn’t steer you wrong. Well, hope is probably a better term. One that more accurately portrays your inner conflicts as you make your way to the back conference table nestled deep within walls of encyclopaedias. Dust entrapping the air you sit in– age and memories baked in the walls.

At worst, that’s all you shall make. Memories. Call the whole thing a bust and look online for some tutors or go to a used bookstore and buy a few more outdated textbooks. At best, you’ll pass the class and become one of the best meteorologists the world has seen. No pressure on Mr. Mystery Tutor or anything. Obviously.

None at all.

Your fingers find themselves tapping against the table as you think; seat already taken, items already spread out as you wait. Just your ring finger over and over in a repeated motion– the beat of wind speeds picking up on a desert plane. The bubbling of magma under the surface of the earth. The–

“(Y/n)?” A husk of a voice breaks your almost monotonous silence, your tapping suddenly ceased as a chill travels down your spine. A chill from the tone of someone's voice alone– can you believe that?

Somewhere, once, when you were little, you heard that a chill runs down your spine whenever a serial killer passes by. But this isn't that. No, this is something entirely different. More familiar. More recognizant.

Your eyes shoot pitifully fast up at him, almost tilting your head as you take in the features. Black hair– maybe brown, baggy hoodie, slouched shoulders. One hand supporting the shrap of his bag that hangs over his shoulder.

No, you don’t know him. Maybe a future you does– one where a timeline passes over this exact spot. Where you’re friends already, maybe something more. Something safe. Though, that isn’t a very scientific explanation. One colleagues and professors may make fun of you for. You disregard the notion, only nodding your head to confirm.

He only mirrors the motion in return, seemingly not one for conversation himself. Finding himself pulling out the chair across from yours, setting himself inside of it. Wasting no time in pulling out his own belongings.

Laptop, textbook, notebook.

“The professor said you were having trouble with qualitative analysis of…” His voice trails off, and you can’t help but wonder how someone's voice can almost sound like a well-loved record. A tune that can’t quite find its sink– almost too rigid to hope itself melodic.

You listen to the same voice as it sings out the songs of your lessons. As he goes over the failed exam beat by beat. Explaining the first few questions in such simple terms anyone could understand them. Not in a way that felt condescending, no. Again, it just felt so warm that you couldn’t do anything but listen to him quietly. Absorbing everything without a single interruption.

Well, until question 7 at least. That is when you feel two synapses connecting in your brain reminding you of an ultra-important task that absolutely cannot be forgotten. A handshake. Your small hand cutting him off, reaching across the table without a second thought.

He stares at the pervasive hand as if it is something he’s never seen before. Never been offered in the first place. Something offensive to hurt rather than anything else.

Interesting.

“My dad always said you have to shake hands when you’re meeting someone. Or else it’s bad luck down the road. So…” You explain away simply, like it should be obvious to every person on the Earth. It should, honestly. But you’ve been told you have issues with thinking that way– that things obvious to you should be obvious to everyone else. That everyone else lives within the same bubble you’ve found yourself residing in your whole life.

You know it isn't true– that the bubble you’ve created is something you simply live in alone. Periphery finding itself resident to everyone else. But that’s awfully lonely, isn't it? You choose to think the former.

His shoulders slowly unfurl, defences slowly lowering as he meets your hand in the middle. Rough palm meeting yours, shaking slowly up and down before both sides pull away. A magnet short of attraction of two bodies as you pull away.

“Good.” You nod, pulling your knees up to hover off of the ground. Resting them against the edge of the table instead. “I don’t like bad luck either.”

There's a beat of silence, one that you don’t mind.

“Do you not like black cats then either?” His tone has an edge of pessimism to it. His defences considering a raise.

You, on the other hand, feel immediate offence. How dare he! “What?! Are you crazy! Or course I like them.”

You miss the crook of his lip into a light smirk, defences gone once more, “Well, normally they’re seen as bad luck…”

“That’s just a stereotype!” You instantly defend. Your body leaning over, moving your face closer to his.

He holds his arms up in defence, pencil still wedged between his fingers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. My bad completely.” He lets out a quiet chuckle at the end, you only puff out your cheeks.

“Entirely.” You huff quietly, almost sounding like a petulant child, “I would never judge something just off of how they’re born.” At that, he almost perks an ear.

“Really?” He asks, his eyebrows slowly raising, “Not even hybrids?”

Ah, hybrids. A common discussion other people find themselves having, one that you never really found the purpose of. Arguments on their rights, the ethics of keeping them as pets, on if they should even be classified as intelligent life. You hated all of them. Didn’t understand for a second why people kept themselves concerned with class divisions or keeping others subservient at all.

As far as you care, they’re the same as humans. Think like humans, act like humans. Another creature just as deserving the right to live and exist as all others. You don’t concern yourself with the difference in their existence– seeing them, treating them the same as you would any other person.

You can’t stand that others find different opinions than yourself. Cutting them off entirely for treating another living, breathing creature with the capacity to think for itself as less. Reminding you desperately that you live on the periphery.

“No, why should I care.” You scrunch your nose up at the notion you’d think otherwise. He takes the action differently. “They’re the same as everyone else.”

You surmise your ideologies simply, though you’re never sure if your words construe correctly. His results are inconclusive as well, letting out a quiet grunt. Dropping the subject. Keeping his words from revealing what is true.

“What else is bad luck then?”

You don’t notice the quick subject change, “Walking under ladders, whistling in the woods, doing your laundry on a sunday. …I can’t imagine saying Bloody Mary in a mirror 3 times is much help either.”

He pauses for a second, his eyes just looking at you. They’re sharp things– knives against a grinder maybe. Could even be too sharp to be human, if you cared to look a little closer. Cared to notice the differences between you and him.

But you don’t, nor will you probably ever. Just allow him to shake his head simply, let him return to your test questions without a single other thought leaking into that brain of yours. Only this time, you feel comfortable enough to ask a few more questions. Let him delve more deeply into the work without the threat of your mind wandering off to useless things. Allow the clock to tick later, later, later into the night– moving from your exam, to the most recent concept your class has been working on. Carefully treading the water, staying afloat as you finally begin to understand.

You hate to admit it, you really do for the sake of your pride alone, but he really is a good teacher. He doesn’t seem upset when you ask questions– no matter how stupid you are. He stays calm whenever you start to get frustrated, carefully talking you through it instead of getting upset himself. He seems so peaceful you almost want to hate him for it.

Almost, because between the gentle instructions and messy handwriting as the hours tick late into the night, jokes begin to crack freely between both of your tongues. Gentle jabs that mean nothing, topics construing into obscurity flowing into something more entertaining to discuss.

Though– he did seem to have pause when you told him you don't trust fish. Something about them thinking they’re better than you– of which he agreed. Not that they’re better than you, of course not. But that yeah… they do seem to have that kind of look in their eyes.

He feels the same way about birds, you learned. Interesting.

It isn’t until midnight that he calls it, a time you didn’t even think was plausible. You thought it was 9:30, 10 at the latest! There’s no way midnight could have come so soon! Just the idea of it sounded fake. But then you checked the clock in the library, then your phone, and now you don’t know what to think.

Time has never flown so simply with another person.

“I told you I wasn’t lying.” He has that stupid smirk on his face, the one you’ve decided means he’s feeling cocky and amused.

“You could… you could have changed all of them when I wasn’t looking! To trick me?”

“Yeah.. mhmm.. And what would that do.. For either of us..?”

“. . . I haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Right.” He smiles, a real smile that shows off his gums. You can’t help but reflect a smaller one back at him.

Once again he moves first, standing after he’s collected all his belongings. Tossing his bag over his shoulder while you hurry to catch up. Sliding your laptop inside before making sure your pens know their correct homes in the case–

What was that?

It was something so subtle anyone could have missed it. A mouse scurrying between cases, a piece of trash floating by. Something brown moving quickly in the corner of your eye. Something you neglected to notice. How could you not notice something so obvious?

When you look up at him– finally take the man you’ve spent the night with in his entirety, you see it. You missed it while he was sitting down, obviously trying to keep the thing from view, but now there was no hiding it. It was impossible to hide the thick brown tail that hung behind him in such a relaxed posture you wonder if he forgot about it, too.

You couldn’t help the instant fascination as you took the form of it in. The pretty segments it appeared to be broken into– 5 if you counted them correctly, all stacked neatly upon one another. All leading to a stinger resting at the end, gently curled inward rather than held in defence.

The gentleness of the man himself contrasted so nicely with the firmness of the tail.

So pretty.

It was only then that he must’ve realised his mistake. Must’ve noticed your silence, followed your eye line to see exactly where it was laying. Realised that he let his guard down too quickly– understood too quickly that you didn’t already know about his… condition. His state of existence.

The professor must’ve not told you. Probably thought it was a negligible factor even though it never is. Maybe when he came in you missed it, you didn’t actually look up at him until he sat down anyway. Until his tail was already tucked deep under the chair for protection.

Without realising it, his tail raises. Curing behind his back, the tip looking even sharper than it normally does. Meanwhile his body tenses up entirely. Defence utterly encasing his form.

Fuck, and then your eyebrows are raising– and next you’re gonna start screaming and he’ll have to run so he doesn’t get taken in by hybrid services and–

“Can I touch it?” Your voice brings him back to reality, back from the ‘end-of times’ it found itself careening towards. Now he’s just, he’s just confused. Did you just ask him if you could touch it? Why aren’t you acting like he’s suddenly the scum of the earth? That’s how hybrids are treated anyway.

Even if you said otherwise earlier, that doesn’t mean much to someone who's never experienced otherwise.

“. . . oh… or maybe that’s rude. Forget it. Sorry.” You rush out instead, taking his appearance softly. Honestly, you don’t know much about what could be considered ‘rude’ to hybrids… you don’t have much experience with them at all, actually.

“You’re not…” He fumbles with himself, his tail remaining raised like a predator. He forces himself taller, forces himself to appear more together. More ready to ‘strike’-- figuratively. He clears his throat, “What, you have something you want to say?”

You cock your head back sharply, rising to your feet, “No, why would I?” You feel just as confused as him. Maybe asking to touch a hybrid’s parts is more taboo than you thought…

“Look I didn't mean any offence it was just pretty and–”

“Just fucking run off and report me if you’re going to–”

Both sentences are said at the same time from each party, the response mirroring exactly as well. Both faces twist into that of almost confusion and offence, upset that the other would dare say something like that for entirely different reasons.

“What are you talking about?” Your question comes from annoyance, almost anger that he would think you would do something as nasty as reporting him when he was just trying to live his life.

His comes from the simple word pretty. Why would you think his appendage was anything of the sort? The one thing his entire life that’s set him back– the very blood in his veins betraying him. The reason he can’t be accepted by normal people. The reason he has to take stupid night classes at this university with any professor that is actually willing to accept him. To accept his under the table payments.

The very reason he’ll never get a real job– just hope to be adopted by someone who will let him do what he wants. Just hope that the authorities don’t find him, or that his own landlord won’t turn him in before he can do that.

And you think it’s pretty? No fucking sane person would.

“Why would you think I’d report you?” Your tone is hurt, the pang in his heart hurting just as much. He hates that he feels it, and he hates that he wants to comfort you more than anything else. Stupid fucking scorpion genes.

“What else would you do?” He scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Literally nothing. I would do nothing.” You glare at him slightly, “I don’t care that you’re a hybrid, why would I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” His tone is accusatory, but he doesn’t quite know what else to make it.

“Okay, let’s go down the list, yeah?” The spite in your tone lets the both of you know this night is taking a sour turn, “You can think, you can feel, oh right, you’re your own fucking person.”

You roll your eyes, “I know words don’t mean much, probably, but I view literally every creature as equal.” He still stands firm, your words and his life experiences battling in his mind. You sigh, this isn’t going anywhere. “Listen, I know it probably doesn’t mean much, and like, we both just met so I know it doesn’t hold much value. But I’m really sorry for whatever you’ve gone through in your life. It couldn’t have been easy. But I really, truly don’t care about whatever laws are in place. As far as I’m concerned, you’re equal to me.”

Your tone had gone soft, more gentle. Trying to dispel the hostility that hung fragrant in the air. But it looks like he can’t move. Doesn’t really know how after all of that. You probably wouldn’t either– though you’re not sure, you’ve never been good at putting yourself in other people's shoes. You just hope he believes you… that’s all you can do.

“I’ll head out first. You have my number, text me if you want to meet again.” You start towards the door, the ball left in the other man’s court. You wish you could’ve at least got his name first but.. He never introduced himself. Hmm, maybe you did the handshake too late, that’s why the bad luck kicked in.

“You think it’s pretty?” You almost don’t hear his words, too far away.

You turn your body back to face him, a gentle smile crocheted onto your lips, “Of course I do. Exquisite.”

The two of you stand in silence for a minute longer, trying to navigate the confusing energy moving between both of your forms. It’s only when you turn back around again to leave that he finally speaks. The simple word of his name.

“Yoongi.”

“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Yoongi.” You say softly, tilting your head to look at him once again, “I really do hope we can be friends.”

But that was years ago. Friends came and went; now you want so much more. More than you could ever quite articulate. You know it now as you sit with him, an after-chase ritual in whatever cheap roadside bar you can find. Never finding yourselves regulars, always on the move– save for the presence of each other.

“I don’t think luck is real, you know.” Yoongi drawls into your ear, the scent of alcohol heavy on his tongue. His body leaning against yours in the crowded bar, hair dancing against the side of your neck all while his tail finds itself curled around your back. A simple motion that could only be described as protective, possessive.

“What?!” You dramatically slap your hand against your mouth, an action you picked up from him. Alcohol inhibiting both of your minds only slightly, letting words flow a little easier than they otherwise might. Letting touch feel a little more commonplace.

An afterwork tradition, if you will.

“You’re insane!” You announce, slapping his shoulder playfully, “You’re gonna make bad luck get us Yoongi!! Take it back!”

Your voice is almost a whine, and he wants to fold because of it.

“You say that like you aren’t a stem major!” He laughs, his eyes shining like crescent moons you want to live on. Wait, does that even make sense?

“That doesn’t matter! We're like– the least scienc-y!! Our whole job is practically based on luck! Oh my god!” Now you’re stopping your foot a little, and his tail finds itself pulling you closer.

“Yeah, but you have no idea how many ladder’s I’ve walked under and you still say I have the best luck.” He giggles– fucking giggles!! Can you believe the audacity of this man?!

“Yoongi!! How dare you!! Do you know how many E5s’ you’ve cost us?! Probably like.. Like 20!”

“Mm, maybe yours just keeps it up for the both of us. Huh?” You humph, you fucking humph, and maybe– just maybe, Yoongi feels himself going a little insane. Forgetting himself– what you are meant to be to him.

“That’s the only plausible explanation… obviously…”

He hums, “Obviously.”

There’s a brief moment, a flicker in the air of something indescribable. Something that makes your skin feel a quiet, humble flame strumming under the surface. That makes you feel as if there's electricity pulsing through the space left between your noses. That makes you feel almost invincible as your eyes meet his warm brown tones.

You’ve come to love earthy hues since meeting Yoongi. He’s full of them, after all.

But, the flame of the match is blown out far too quick for you to truly comprehend what that moment was. Why it felt the way it did. Instead, your left sputtering with the absence of Yoongi, the slow withdrawal of his form.

“I’ll go get us more drinks.” His gravelly voice mutters just loud enough to hear over the music. You can only nod along, already missing the security of the tail curled around your back.

At least he isn’t so shy about it’s presence anymore. At least not like he was back then– trying to hide it, trying to make the rest of the world forget about it. You never understood why, no, how could you when you love it so much? Find it just another integral part of Yoongi for you to love.

You can even smile now, thinking back to how cute he got the first time he let you touch it. How he turned red to his ears, the chill that travelled down his spine. The flick of it as it chased after your hand when you retreated. It was too fucking cute back then… mm. Maybe that’s when you first started to grow a crush on the man.

Or maybe it was always how struck he was when you complimented him. Pushed it aside like it meant nothing, yet he always seemed a little out of it for the rest of your time spent together. You suppose Yoongi has always been reticent to your gaze; but then again, he was always aloof when it came to his feelings as it was. Nothing to dwell on, honestly.

You’ve never tried to hide your feelings– have never wanted to, really. You don’t think you even know how. But you’re not going to force them on him either. If he wants to act, the door has always been open. And it will remain open to him, probably forever.

“How’d the chase go this time?” A voice carries you from your head, your feet returning to the solid ground. Jisung, a fellow chaser finds himself in the seat next to yours– the seat Yoongi used to fill. A friend in the industry, you could say. Though, you take to thinking he probably wants more.

“Mmm… ‘bout as good as any other this late into the season…” You hum, taking a sip from your half-full glass, “Never as good around this time of year.”

Your sigh makes a gentle smile grow onto his plush lips, “Really? I thought you fell in love with every storm.” He lets out a quiet snort, swirling his own cup. His eyes seem to remain focused on you, though.

“Of course I do. Everyone is perfect and special!” You declare a smile stretching back, “However, like every caring mother, I do have favourites.”

“I don’t think– that’s not–” He laughs, “Aren’t parents not supposed to have favourites?”

“You really believe that Lie, Sung? Bold of you.”

“Well, do you have favourite pets?”

“Of course not!! How dare– okay, yeah. It’s the goldfish. His name is Guppie and he is my pride and joy. Named after my first love in elementary school~ imagine I let out a dreamy sigh here.”

His laugh makes your own come out as well, “Your first love was a… fish?”

“What, no?”

“They were named Guppie? … Like a fish…”

“Nickname, of course.” You giggle, girlish and cute.

“Do you give nicknames to everyone then?” He moves his face closer in wonder, excitement, “What’s mine? You have to tell me.”

You hum, tapping your chin in contemplation, “I don’t know ‘Sung, nicknames are reserved for extra special people in my life…”

“Ah!” He clutches his chest, looking down before popping his head up. Puppy dog eyes, “I’m not extra special? You wound me (Y/n)! You really do! And I really thought we had something, I can’t believe this.”

You laugh loudly at the dramatic act– emotions on the sleeve are so much more fun to display. You know he probably means none of it, but it’s still adorable. You can’t help but lean in closer, slapping his chest gently.

“Shh! Shh! You’re too loud! Too loud! You’re extra special!” The conversation is easy, just as it always is with Jisung. Though it isn’t the same– you can’t help but notice that fact. It feels easy, smooth… though like there is a wall in the way of true connection. Like there is a way you are meant to act. Just like there always is.

Always is with everyone but Yoongi.

It’s strange. But something you’ve grown attached to. Fond of.

He clears his throat behind you– think of the devil and he shall appear. Or however the saying goes. You’ve never been good with them, anyway. Your strengths and your faults, the simple facts have become all too aware of over time. Not that you mind them, of course. You just accept them as a fact of ‘you’. Just like your bubble, just like your impossible.

“Oh, hey!” Jisung is bright as always, giving a gentle wave to the man behind you.

“Poongie!” You smile, your inebriated mind already attempting to wrap itself around his torso. It’s not your fault you already missed him!

Jisung erupts in a fit of giggles, “Poongie?! That’s his?!”

“Yep! Mixture of Pookie and Yoongi. He loves it.” He certainly does, but he would never admit it. Actually, he feels kind of odd right now. More… stiff than he was before he left. Like something… darker? Is radiating off of him. Though, it’s not actually dark. Just kind of… displeased. You can't seem to find the right word.

“I can tell.” Jisung rolls his eyes, “He looks thrilled.”

That only seems to further upset the man, his tail slowly curling around itself on instinct. Moving to find purchase on your waist. To pull you closer. To claim you. Sober thoughts slipping into a drunk mind, his actions freer than he normally allows them to be.

Jealousy. That’s all he feels. Jealous that you just called someone who’s been openly hitting on you the entire season ‘extra special’. How fucking childish of him. He knows that even now, but he doesn’t want to stop. Everything that normally does feels as though they’ve gone into hibernation at this very moment.

He just wants you.

The next thing the Scorpion knows, he’s setting the drinks on the counter while you gaff away. Lifting you by your hips, sliding his form underneath yours with a grunt. Placing you on his lap and finally, making sure you’re secure to him with a hug of his tail around your midsection.

He almost feels proud at your little squeal of surprise. At the blush on your cheeks. That’s right. He’s the only special one to you. This other man– other predator should know it.

He knows he’ll regret this display in the morning. That he’ll feel utterly embarrassed by the whole thing. But right now Min Yoongi feels on top of the world.

“Yoongi! What are you doing!” You hiccup out in surprise, trying to turn to face him. But he holds you still, holds you secure. Holds you safe just like he always makes sure you are. Gives you a response only by the shrug of his shoulders, his chin finding purchase in the crook of your neck.

“W-well.. Fine then!” You huff, puffing out your cheeks just a little, “I’ll stay, but… just for a little! I’ll stay here for a little…” You grow a little quiet near the end, a little nervous. But you couldn’t feel more warm than in this moment. So heavenly.

Jisung only laughs, what else is he meant to do anyway? A small, petulant part of Yoongi was hoping he’d run for the hills– he would with such aggressive scent marking. But then again, the other man is a human, probably doesn’t know anything about such a thing.

The other part of Yoongi almost wants him to watch. Wants the other man to watch you drown in your own blush, watch as you learn more and more into the firm chest behind you. Feel the connection you two have that–

Oh, you’re laughing again too, what a pretty sound. The conversation picking up once again– Jisung is a conversationalist isn’t he. Yoongi almost wishes he was the same. Jealousy is an ugly emotion. It makes people do drastic things. It makes Yoongi want to do even more drastic things.

If only he was human.

If he was human he'd do so much more. Would have already done so much more. But now, in his current state of being, he couldn’t handle it. He wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection. He knows it. Knows it in the way mother’s comfort their children after one look at his tail, and knows it in the way you look at storms.

Yoongi isn’t a tornado. You would never look at him the same way you look at them. With such love and light in your eyes.

But god he wants you to, he wants you to more than anything. He wants to be an option. He wants to be the center of your universe just like those dumb fuck storms are. He wants to be the wind that plays with your hair, the rain that kisses your skin. He wants to be the very thing that envelopes your entire consciousness just like those storms do.

And maybe, just maybe if he presses himself close enough to you he can. He can pretend with the poison in his blood that you like him. He can be yours, even if it's only for a night.

He would always be yours. You never his’.

And as the night ticks on, venom bubbling up every second that ticks, he feels himself becoming looser. Feels you melting into his grip as pretty drinks and florals fill your mind. Feels your scent starting to overpower his nose as his mind blurs with thoughts of you. Almost feels the tangle of souls joining in the way he’s always wished them to.

“Yoonie..” You hum, fingers coming up loosely to move through his hair in a way they only do when the two of you are alone, “He went to get a drink, can let me go now…seats open.”

He almost feels annoyed at your words, and you can’t help but let the disappointment of them bubble, too. You don’t want him to let you go. In fact, you’d be happy staying like this forever. But you know Yoongi, you know he doesn’t like to be so… affectionate in public. He’s one to show his love quietly, something else you’ve come to find endearing over the years you’ve spent by his side.

Only, you don’t feel relieved movements like you expected to, no. While his arms go lax, his tail almost pulls tighter. The two sides of him fighting, arguing over what to do next. And next, next you feel something so warm. So soft against your neck that you don’t know what to do.

Lips. His lips are against your neck. A gentle press to the side of the column robbing you of your ability to breath, ability to think. Normal affectionate pecks are common, sure, when the two of you have spent too long reaserching and analysing the your brains are working a little slower than they normally do, they might even be seen as common. But this kiss, this kiss was slow. It was languid. It was so much more. Everything you’ve ever wanted.

“Have to?” His words are quiet, gruff. Lips moving against your neck as he talks. Spoken to you alone in the world, emboldened by the alluring mix of jealousy and alcohol.

You shake your head, much emboldened by the same. He never has to let you go.

“Good.” You feel your heart in your ears, ready to explode as he moves his arm back around you, back to your hip to hold you steady, “Mine.”

Neither of you ever expected that single, life altering word to ever leave his lips.

“Y-Yours?” You can’t help yourself, you need to make sure you heard him right. Needed to make sure this whole thing wasn’t a dream. That his lips, slowly kissing along the ridge of your shoulder are real and not a figment of your imagination.

Though he doesn’t say it again, doesn’t will himself to. Instead the sound you hear is something low, one you’ve never heard him use against you. A gentle growl lodged in the back of his throat, confirming it. Confirming everything for your head and your heart to hear.

“Yours…” You try again, tilting your head to the side, giving him more room. He hums in assurance, in want.

You think you could die happy.

The impossible. The impossible is claiming you for himself. Is holding the heart of the love struck college student, the nervous new-hire, the assured scientist all in the palm of his hand. Is confirming your affections. Confirming the fire brewing deep in your belly. The coals that have been slowly and tenderly cared for over time.

Yoongi and the storms– they’re both your impossible, your fate finding reality.

“Y-Yoongi I—” He tilts your chin, cutting you off mid sentence. Passion alight beneath the subtle glow of amber that robs you of your words. Lets you know exactly what you need to. Makes the fire burst into flames as his fingers gently dig into your hip, makes your entire body heat as he rubs in gentle circles.

“I don’t like him.” He grunts, letting his forehead rest against yours, “Keeps you from me.”

“No one can keep me from you.” The reply is instant, your lips barely missing his. “You’re for me.”

God, and at that moment you know that the prettiest noise in the world is Yoongi’s quiet groan. The way his eyes close, the way he practically pulls you down into his lap sends you into overdrive. The way he slowly rolls his own up is enough to send you into a puddle of your former being.

The rest of the world is gone, entirely melted away from reality. Now, now it’s just you and Yoongi. Cornered away from the rest of the bar, out of sight. Out of mind. Just his hands slowly moving your hips to be seated on just one of his thighs, his tail making sure you’re secure. Just your scent driving him crazy.

He can tell how wet you already are. He can tell how much you want him, just as he wants you.

The contact is rough, a little maddening. His jeans pressing up against yours, the thin cotton of your panties not doing much to stop the harsh heat. But you don’t want it to stop. You want him to do whatever he wants.

“You’re wet.” He isn't shy to admit it. Isn’t shy to admit the smell invading his nose. Isn’t shy to let you know exactly what it’s doing to him with the rock of your hips. Letting you feel something hard pressed right against your back.

“Shut up…” You instantly complain, whining as you lean your back against his chest, further into his touch. He cracks a soft smile at your words, rocking you back and forth so slowly, so carefully. Letting you feel every flex of the muscle, every rough movement of the jean against your clit. Savouring every second now that the threat of the other man has dissipated. Taking his time in case all of this is a dream and he will have to give you up tomorrow.

“Why? Not cute when I say it?” He chuckles, jumping his leg slightly off the ground, sending a wave through your body. A shock of pleasure to the system that has a gentle moan tumbling from your lips. That has your hips sending a gentle buck back. That has your brain feeling as though it might become mush.

Yoongi is going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it.

“Hey guys I…” Yoongi’s eyes find Jisung before your own do. Before the flushed expression on your face can quell and certainly before you can find a coherent thought. And suddenly the lazy foreplay in the corner of the bar is gone. Suddenly Yoongi is no more than an animal once again.

“O-Oh! Jisung! S-sorry let me just–” You try, but there isn’t any use. No, Yoongi is pissed you even said his name. Pissed you tried to move away from him. Why would you try to move away from him? A predator with his m– prey being stolen right out from under him. A predator that has everything to gain and everything to lose.

Yoongi isn’t thinking anymore as he stands, just barely keeping you upright as he pulls you away. Grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom, locks the door once you’re both inside.

Sanity is no longer present. Only the jealousy he feels inside. Only annoyance at the other man for trying to take you away from him. You said he was yours, that he was made for you. And the other predator dared try to take you? Take you from him when you were about to share something so sweet?

Yoongi knows he isn’t thinking right. Knows he might regret it in the morning– but he also knows if he doesn’t do something now he’ll regret it even more. For once, for once in his life he wants to be selfish. For once in his life he wants to forget he can’t ever have you because he’s a hybrid. For once he just wants you.

You’d let him have you. Over and over again. For the rest of your lives.

“Yoongi what are you–” He cuts you off with his lips against your own for he doesn’t know the answer. He’s letting himself just exist for once. Exist in the way he wants to without care. And all he wants right now is to kiss you.

You couldn’t want anything more. Have been waiting your entire life to feel the press of his lips against your own. Kiss him back without a second thought– without reprieve. Let your mouth slip open easily for him, let everything get as messy as he wants.

The time for gentle foreplay is over. No, now is the time to consume.

Without a second thought he lifts you by your hips, your hands falling into place against his shoulder. Letting him lead, letting him take control as he fits his body against yours with such perfect harmony. Nobody would doubt you’re two pieces of the same puzzle, ready to fit together for the rest of eternity.

He groans when he feels your hips press against his, as he feels your heat seep through layers of clothing. Cusses when he finally pulls back, sees the saliva collected at the corner of your lips. The hazy look in your eye that tells him you need him just as much as he needs you. That you want him so terribly you can’t help but fall against him for love, for safety.

It’s just the alcohol.

Yoongi practically growls at his own thoughts, his tail rising in defence, in defiance against his own brain. Forcing the thoughts away, forcing everything away other than your body in the room. Other than your desire in the room.

When his mind is no longer clouded he can come to terms with all of this, come to terms with his feelings and shove them so far back down they’ll never see the light of day– but now, right now he needs this. Needs it more than anything.

“Want you.” He grunts, his knees falling onto the dirty bathroom floor. His hands splay against your thighs, feeling them. Worshipping the skin as if it is an altar. As if you’re his religion. “Can I?”

He doesn’t have to ask, he doesn’t need to. He would never have to ask you. Every single time you’d fall for the storm that is Min Yoongi. Over and over again. As if it’s as easy as breathing, as easy as thinking.

The answer is even easier now– as your heart beats in your ears, as arousal pools in your gut. As his blunt fingernails dig themselves ever so slightly into your flesh, begging for entry. Begging for you to just give in. His cheeks a flush, his hair already a wreck. His chest rising and falling and thinking just for you.

He looks like a god.

“W-want you.” Your stutter makes you feel meak, but his groan of approval makes you feel strong. Makes you feel like your bubble has been popped, like the world finally has meaning past tornados and cataclysms.

He takes your approval without any grace. Without a second to even think before he’s pulling your pants down with such hunger, such carnal need. His throat releases a groan of desire as your scent hits him at full force, as you give yourself to him.

He can’t help himself as he presses his face against your panties, his nose right against your clit as he inhales. Takes in all of you for himself. Lets himself be greedy.

“Y-Yoongi!” You squeak in surprise, the noise tapering into a whine. How could he do something so embarrassing! What is wrong with–

You can’t even finish the thought before his fingers pull your panties to the side, his eyes focused directly on your wet, needy cunt. “Smell good.”

If you weren’t entirely red before, you certainly are now. There is no way you couldn’t be. Not with the hunger in his eyes. The fire in your belly.

His tongue darts out, licking your pussy directly without a second thought. Parting your lips, collecting your arousal on his tongue. Tasting you, basking in everything you. Listening to the pretty little moan that comes from your parted lips. Falling apart without a second thought.

And suddenly he’s hungry. Hungrier than he’s ever been in his entire life. Hungry in a way that he’s sure can only be satiated by you. By making you his.

“Fuck, (Y/n)...” He almost sounds more affected than you are, like he could cum from your taste alone. But he can’t, he won’t let himself. He wants, needs to be inside of you more than everything. Needs to fuck you, consume every part of you like he so selfishly craves.

“Gotta get you ready…” He’s talking to himself more than to you as he stands again, trying to keep himself from succumbing to the scorpion screaming at him to just claim you as his. He can only be selfish for tonight. This night. “You gonna be quiet for me? Can’t get caught.”

“Please…” Your voice is practically a whimper, practically begging him to just do something, anything. And who is he to deny you of such simple pleasures? Especially when you whine just for him, moan just for him. Jut your hips out ever so slightly to present yourself just to him.

His thumb finds your clit almost instantly as you call out to him. Rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves with quick, fast precision while another digit presses against your leaking hole. Preparing you, getting you ready for the intrusion.

Your voice is a siren’s song, and Yoongi then knows why pirates used to get lost at sea. Used to become entrapped by the mermaids that sang for them. He feels himself going crazy now, as your head tilts back. As your cunt flutters around nothing, begging him to slide his finger inside just as you both desperately crave.

A buck of your hips is all he needs to fuck the digit inside, trusting it in and out slowly. Making sure it goes as deep as it can before curling and slowly retracting. Increasing pace with the volume of your sounds, with the circle of your clit. Combining sensation, driving you further and further into the clouds with every movement.

It is then you know that his hands are a deadly poison, one you know you will fall apart to. Especially with the gentle sounds of his grunts, with the push of a second finger into your hole. With his heated gaze focused on nothing but how well you’re taking him, how you’re stretching so prettily around his fingers.

You place your hand over your mouth, try to keep your moans to a minimum. Try to suppress every little sound that threatens to spill past your lips. Yet you can’t help it, how could you when he knows exactly where to curl his fingers? When they press right against that little bundle of nerves inside. When they rub against you so perfectly.

“Y-Yoongi!” You accidentally shout, your hips bucking in surprise. The band growing tighter and tighter in your lower abdomen. Your eyes clouding with pleasure as your head feels lighter and lighter.

He only smirks, gentle and sinful. “Found it.”

He thrusts his fingers back in the exact same way, their pace hurried. Concise. Locating that exact same spot over and over again, curling his fingers up just right. Timing the strokes perfectly with a roll of your clit. You feel like you could scream, you’re going to scream.

“Y-You’re so mean!” You whimper, the hand on your clit moving to hold your thighs down. To resist your messy bucking. Resist your adorable begging for more. This other thumb moving to press against your clit instead.

Then you see it, see the pretty brown thing that had you so enamoured to begin with. Remember just how sensitive it was when you touched it first, and just how mean he’s being to you now.

With all the clarity you have left in your little brain you reach for his tail, hold it in your tiny hands. Whimper at how big it is, how strong it feels. How much it protects you. And without a second thought, you wrap your lips around the tip of it and moan. Using it as a gag, using it to stop your cries.

Yoongi suddenly tenses below you, his entire frame shifting as your mouth sucks on the tip. Your eyes closed in concentration, little tears bubbling up in the corners as you whine around him. Fully focused on your pleasure, the feeling of his fingers inside of you– so close to falling apart.

He thinks he could cum at that second. He’s sure of it.

A choked groan leaves his own lips as his fingers resume their pace, his senses going into overdrive. No longer thinking, no longer able to do anything but act. But take and take and give and give until there's nothing left.

And god he wants to burn this picture into his brain. Wants to cement it into the rest of his thoughts, his very being. His movements are messier, faster as he fucks his fingers into your cunt. Doesn’t care about the noise as his tail moves on its own, slowly thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your g-spot battered, you clit burning with pleasure.

Sounds that resemble words fall deaf on your tongue as the band finally breaks, as the world around you spins. As you find euphoria from Yoongi’s fingers. The eye of the storm befalling your very being as electricity moves down your spine as the winds subside.

You’re left panting in front of him, your walls tightening as he slowly coaxes you through it. Helps you feel every ounce of pleasure that you deserve. Kisses your shoulder gently, softly, watching you come down from your high.

You can only whine at the affection, the fog lifting for a brief second as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You feel so empty– too empty. You still want him. You still want so much more.

You try to say his name, try to vocalise but it only sends vibrations down his tail. A groan leaving his lips, heat still heavy in his eyes. You realise his tail is still moving, still slowly moving in and out of your mouth. You know he isn’t finished.

You know you never want him to be.

You raise your leg up, kicking, trying to push his pants down. Begging them to just drop a little lower. To get his cock out so he can fuck you properly. So he can make you feel so much more full of everything him.

He lets out a chuckle of a scoff, his bangs falling in front of his eyes as he shakes his head, “Needy.” He grunts, yet he feels the exact same way. Removing his tail from your mouth, finally letting you speak. Ignoring the way his heart hammers at the sight of your puffy, glossed lips.

“Shut up.” Is the only reply you can muster, hands quickly moving to try and shove his pants down. To try and get him inside of you. He just smiles, the predatory glint never leaving his eyes. The dig of his nails never leaving your thigh.

Finally, with your messy attempts you urge them down, force the annoying material down his thighs, his boxers moving right along with it. And fuck, you can’t help but gawk. Can’t help but whine because shit, you’ve never seen a cock so pretty! What the hell! That isn’t fair! None of this is fair and he hates you!

“You hate me.” You whimper, letting him take the lead once again. Following as he slowly leans you back, manoeuvres your hips in exactly the way he wants. Presents your puffy, fluttering cunt just for him. Messy and aching, desperate for more.

“Maybe.” He smiles, teasing you. He’s teasing you! Can you believe that! You certainly can’t, a whine and a gentle smack to his chest telling him everything he needs to hear. Yet you’re forgetting about it all too quickly as you feel the head of something hard gently press against your lips.

In your hazed stupor, you completely missed the action. The way he gripped his cock in his hands, the languid strokes he’s made up and down the length. The way he flicked his thumb over the head just before he decided to so sinfully trace it along your slit. Teasing himself, tracing around your hole with the head. You think he might kill you.

He thinks much of the same.

“I’m on birth control.” You messily squeak out of the blue, eyes trained between your bodies where he’s so close. So very close to fucking himself inside. Into being exactly where you want him. Snapping that final line you two could never come back from.

His eyes dart up to your face, something dark in the iris. Something neither of you address as he finally lets go of his last bit of reserve. As his lips slam into yours, consuming your very being.

His hand finds your leg, pulling it up, resting it against his hip to draw you closer. In one single thrust drawing all the air out of your lungs, removing all thoughts from your head as he thrusts his entire length inside. Filling you, stretching you in the most perfect way. In a way you never imagined another person could do.

Your cries are drowned by his lips, his own curses lost in the same. The stretch, the burn is subtle, yet you could never want anything less. Anything more than the euphoric feeling of Yoongi feeling your ever being.

“Shit…” He finally lets himself breathe, let himself have a moment to feel you. Feel your plush walls wrapped around his length, feel you fluttering around him so perfectly. You’re going to make him insane.

He pants softly, trying to wait– trying to hold himself back from fucking you so hard you can’t walk. So hard he’ll have to carry you out of this shitty bar. So that everyone will know what the two of you did. Just who you belong to.

You give an experimental wiggle of your hips, a signal to move. A signal to stop holding back. The only signal that he needs.

“Yoongi!” The cry is loud, but he can’t seem to care anymore. The pace he takes is anything but slow. It's fast, hard. Rushed. Like he can’t wait a single second longer. Can’t waist a fucking millisecond doing anything else other than laying claim to your soul.

His hips snap against your own, his cock practically hitting your cervix with every thrust. His cock pressed against that same bundle inside every time he draws back, every time he fills you again and again. It’s messy– messy and so wet. So perfect.

“Fuck, fuck.” He mutters to himself, damp hair falling into his eyes, “Have to be quick, gonna fuck you hard, okay?”

He drawls, scratchy. Rough. Pressing his hips fully against yours, fully feeling your slick heat. The lewd noises bouncing against the walls, filling the space. Sending a symphony into your strumming ears. Into your already worn out frame.

You nod in agreement quickly, almost dumbly as you try to fall into a rhythm. Try to meet his movements the best you can. It feels pointless, all of it does. Trying to do anything feels so pointless when he’s fucking you so relentlessly. Like he’s waited his entire life for this moment and he’d rather die than waste another second.

Fucking you like it means something. Like you mean everything.

“Shit, (Y/n). So fucking wet.” He groans, his head rolling back, no longer able to look at the mess between your legs, “So needy.”

You whine, shaking your head. Trying to gain a semblance of reality when it feels like it has been shattered in the most beautiful way.

“Sh-Shut up!” You whine, your walls clenching around his cock, “A-Am! Am not!”

Your denial sends a wave of something through Yoongi. Something that makes him growl, that makes his sight darken just a bit more.

“You’re not?” He scoffs, his eyes finding your own, reading you like an open book, “Little fucking liar.”

His pace changes, taking shape into a different beast entirely. Something new. His thrusts turn from messy, hurried to sharp and precise– the pace never changing. Every single thrust knocking the wind from your lungs, changing the very shape of your DNA to scream for him and only him.

“Y-Yoongi what the fuck?!” You whine, your head knocking back, hitting the glass behind you. Even more of your brain cells scrambling, trying to stay in reality. Trying not to float off in the great beyond where Yoongi wants you to stay.

“Hmm?” He grunts, his eyes focused back downwards. Right to where your slick coats him, to where a pretty white ring has formed around the base. He won’t last long. Even if he wants to keep fucking you forever, he knows he’s done for. “Thought you weren’t needy.”

You whine, unable to stop the band from pulling tight in your gut once again. Unable to stop the pleasure from coursing through your veins. Already a wreck– your body warm with sweat and your hole fluttering uselessly around him. Trying to draw him back in over and over.

Never get him to leave.

His voice is suddenly in your ear, far closer than you remember him being. Far closer than you can manage him being. Fuck, and now his thumb is pressing against your clit again. You don’t know what you can do, what to do.

“You can cum if you just admit it, human.” You’re going insane. “Tell me how fucking needy you are for me. C’mon, do it. I know you can.”

It’s over for you. You had no clue Yoongi could ever be like this, no clue just how much you’d want it. How much you’d love it. Even as tears bubble in the corners of your eyes from the pleasure, even as your hips buck up weakly to meet his thrusts. As his cock makes you feel like you’re about to enter the pearly gates.

You know you love it.

“Y-Yoongi!” You whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders with so much strength you think they might bruise. Hell, you’re sure he’s bruised your hips. There isn’t much difference. “I-I!”

“Mhmm..” He hums, sounding entirely unaffected on the surface, yet it’s clear he’s falling apart just as much as you. Clear in the way his hips stutter so slightly, losing their pace. Clear in the way he holds you tighter and tighter. The way his tail curls possessively around your leg. “You can do it. Say it, human.”

“I-I’m needy!” You whine, forgetting your volume, “I-I need you, Yoongi!”

Just like that, he’s tumbling off the edge. Your words acting as an anchor, as the very thing he’s wanted to hear for years. His hips stuttering inside of you, filling your cunt with his cum without a second thought.

“Cum, pretty thing.” His voice is guttural. A command as your legs lock around him. His thumb never giving your clit reprise. while he doesn’t stop the movement of his thumb. Your own release finding you the second you feel his cock twitch inside of you, the moment you feel his cum leak inside.

Winds swirl at your very being. Lifting you higher and higher into the clouds as your walls clench around him. Milking him for everything, for all he’s worth. Making sure every drop lands inside, making sure you stay nice and full of him while your head wanders into the clouds. While every bit of your being feels fireworks.

Your legs don’t even let go as the two of you slowly begin to calm down. As your heart rates try to return to normal and air returns to your lungs. As Yoongi’s length slowly begins to soften inside of your cute, worn little cunt.

You don’t want to let go. You never want to let go.

His grip slowly softens on your hip. Thumb working to rub slow, gentle circles in their place. His lips finding the column of your throat once more– gentle, nipping kisses find home over the marks he left while sitting at the bar. Not any real bonding marks like his scorpion may have wanted, but pretty red things that claim your skin in a human way.

Your fingers find his strands, knotting themselves in them. Keeping his head where it belongs. You’ve never felt more loved, more wanted in this moment.

You never want it to end.

“Needy…” He smiles to himself, shaking his head softly. His hair tickles your ear. “Can’t believe you actually said it.”

“Y-you!” You try, realising how severely you’re still out of breath. You hate how quickly he’s bounced back. “You made me! You ass!”

He only smiles, shaking his head. Still in complete and utter disbelief that this is real, “I wanted to hear it. You were cute.”

Your legs finally relax when you whine. They easily fall on either side of him, kicking slightly in petulance as he pulls away from your cunt. Removing himself from you, smiling as his cum starts to collect at your opening.

This still all has to be a dream for him, it has to be.

“You hate me!” You repeat again, warmth coming to your cheeks once more as his hands find your cunt. One thump pulling your lip open, letting him see just how much of a mess he’s made you. Letting him watch as his cum drips from your core.

“Maybe.” He can’t help the fond glow in his eyes as he kisses your cheek. A thought coming to the forefront of his brain that he forces back. Another thought he could never let surface, not even now as you’re stuffed with his cum.

His scorpion still preens all the same, though. Filled with thoughts of kids. Thoughts Yoongi, the human, not the scorpion, would never say aloud. Drunk, tipsy, or sober.

He reaches for the dispenser, grabbing a few paper towels before turning on the sink and running them under. Not the best tool, but it will do.

“Well, I don’t hate you…” You’re blushing as you say the words, almost embarrassed without real reason to be. What you just did, it was so much more than ‘I don’t hate you.’ At least, it wasn’t to you. You hope it wasn’t for him either.

You help him with his pants, reaching your hands down and pulling them up slowly for him, “I don’t hate you either.” He rolls his eyes, gently cleaning the space between your legs.

“Awkward if you did.” You huff, lifting your hips as he moves your underwear back in place. Stay hovering as he slides your jeans back up as well.

He leaves a gentle press against your temple, offering you a hand as you hop off the counter. Hips and legs already entirely too sore, a whine shedding your throat as you let him know the pain. All while he only laughs, patting your butt as he helps you walk.

The picture of domesticity.

Neither of you address the elephant in the room, both for entirely different reasons. For radically different realities. The morning would be better anyway, you surmise. With fluid thoughts and no liquor in your system.

You assume Yoongi feels the same way as you both walk home. Gentle shoulders and banter thrown around as casually as ever. The only solid thing the both of you know: you can never go back to that bar again.

God, your fucking head hurts. Maybe?? Maybe everything hurts? When the hell did the sun get so loud?! Since when did light feel like fucking screaming, man?! This isn’t fair! Nothing is fair and the world hates you! Exclusively you, and no one but you!

No, that’s not true. That’s completely illogical, actually. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. Especially when your head is buzzing and your stomach is already growling for some kind of food.

Oh god, food would be so good right now. Warm steamy pancakes, eggs, some kind of potato with a dash of Yoongi to eat it with like you do every morning.

Suddenly, the other side of the bed feels entirely too cold. Freezing. A void empty where the warmth you felt last night should reside.

He fell asleep there, you're sure of it. You remember the feeling of his arms around you, the soft snores that left his lips after you both stumbled into bed. Barely getting undressed before falling into your bed. You remember everything about last night. So much so that you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks at the memory. The thought of everything done in that dingy bathroom, all the words spoken, the care professed.

Even if you were tipsy, you would never forget it. You would never regret it. Were waiting to wake up in his arms to make everything official– a long overdue conversation that would finally set in motion your lives together.

So where the hell is he?

A pout forms on your lips as you stretch, your body too tight for the morning and even more so for your search. The soreness in your hips, the bruises he left from his grip a brutal reminder of his absence as you sit up, your eyes squinting as you scope the scene.

You don’t think you like what you see– it’s a weird feeling, honestly. His bag is gone, his shoes are gone, his clothes are gone. For the first time in all the years you’ve known him, he feels utterly gone. Not a speck of him in your room, not a single sign he was even on this trip with you.

Does he regret…

The frown pulls deeper as you reach for your phone. You definitely don’t like this feeling. Like he wasn’t even there to begin with after everything that just happened.

“Ah, stop it.” You say to yourself, one of your hands coming up to gently pat your cheek. You hate where your brain is going so quickly. Maybe you’re just a sop that needed more aftercare than he knew about– yeah, that's probably it. He probably just wanted to go back to his own room and shower before you had to work today. See, that makes much more sense, doesn’t it? You nod your head, almost in agreement with your thoughts. Set on your decision, on the most-likely-possible solution.

[9:27am] To: Poongie

> Goodmorning :> I hope you slept well

> Did you wanna go get breakfast at the diner? I think I’m dying and only hashbrowns can fix me unfortunately

You wish you could say you weren’t affected– wish you could say you weren’t sitting there, waiting for a response. Heart beating out of your chest like a schoolgirl in love. It’s silly, isn’t it? What emotions can make you feel inside and out. How they can seem to affect every part of your being without even trying.

You suppose storms are the same way. Suppose all natural forces are– the sun, the moon, the stars. They all have their own cosmic power that distils someone at their very core. Leaving them waiting, abating in agony over a simple text back from the man you like.

You toss your phone to the side, choosing to get ready instead of imagining anymore fantasies. You live in reality, a woman of science. There’s no sense in trying to explain everything you feel, only accepting that you feel it.

Mmm. As you get dressed, you wonder how long you’ll be able to go on like that for.

[10:02] From: Poongie

> gm

> i already ate

Oh. You don’t like that. In fact, you hate it so much you want to start making a powerpoint presentation on how to text just for him. But, you give him the benefit of the doubt once more. Yoongi has never been a good texter, anyway. You’re lucky if you can get more than a two word reply from him. He prefers phone calls.

[10:03] To: Poongie

> So u hate me okay

> Come sit with me tho, I don’t want to look like a loser

> Meet me down there in 5 ;P

You give a soft smile as he reacts to your final text with a thumbs up. It doesn’t leave you feeling the best, but he’s not avoiding you entirely. And he never has been a morning person. Plus, he’s probably hungover too and doesn’t wanna look at his phone screen. You two are fine and last night was amazing. And soon you could make everything official.

Your smile grows. Yeah. Yeah, that all makes perfect sense.

You know what doesn’t? A lot of things, actually. Too many to count, but you try anyway.

One.

Yoongi walking in 10 minutes late acting like nothing happened. Like you didn’t happen. Just sliding into the seat across from yours, the thick plastic of the booth squeaking while he does so. His hands stuffed in his pants, nothing but a nod in your direction to acknowledge your existence. His face utterly blank, entirely neutral.

Never once has Yoongi greeted you with less than a gummy smile. A ruffle of your hair. A jab at your tired appearance. But you ignore it– ignore the sense of unease, of dread already building inside. He must really have a bad hangover, poor guy.

“Goodmorning!” You chirp brightly, a smile of a thousand suns cast in only his direction. Your usual greeting, of course. Maybe just a little extra chipper to balance him out. To try and prepare yourself, maybe to get a little excited for the conversation to come. Pull him out of any awkward tension he may be feeling.

“Goodmorning.” He simply replies back, his eyes following the waitress as she places a cup of coffee, extra sweet, in front of him. His usual order. Something you’d never forget. Something he knows you’d never forget, but the way he stares into the warm liquid says otherwise.

His eyes never stray from the cup, like he's thinking. Like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how. Like he isn’t sure whether to ignore it or bring it to light.

You know that look well, and you don’t want to ignore it.

Two.

He calls the waitress back and orders another coffee. Black.

He hates his coffee black. You know this. Everyone does. He hasn’t had the stuff since before he met you. You opened him to the world of how delicious sweet drinks can be. So why the hell is he planning on pretending to like something he doesn’t? It makes no sense to you– your expression shows it all. Eyebrows quirking together, lips pushing outwards slightly.

“Wow, the great Min Yoongi is changing up his order?” A creature of habit never does, you would know yourself, “Hangover that bad?”

You try to lighten the mood, raise the cloud that hangs above the booth. Or maybe it’s a cloud only you feel, you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway, does it?

“Mmm, you could say that.” He grunts, his chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail curling closer. Almost defensive. Almost.

“God yeah,” The conversation feels stunted, and you hate that even more. “My head has been throbbing since I woke up. I don’t know if I drank too much or not enough.” The banter isn’t flowing as easily, and he curls in on himself even more. Almost like the mere mention of last night rings alarm bells in his mind.

Oh! Okay, yeah. Maybe he’s just nervous about everything that happened, you know? Maybe he’s worried that you don’t remember, or that you’re having different feelings about it. Maybe his brain is playing the same tricks on him that trickled into your consciousness that morning!

Yeah, okay. That makes so much more sense now that you think about it. You have to stop beating around the bush, just come out and say everything you think. Everything you feel and you can talk about it. You’ll just bring it up– he obviously isn’t going to, but then you’ll be in a relationship by the time your pancakes come out! Perfect!

Yet as you look up at him, find his face utterly void of anything, your confidence wanes.

Three.

He’s refusing to look at you. Another thing he never does. You’re always the one to avoid eye contact, never him. You’re always the one to stare out the window, not him. He normally looks at you. Normally basks in you.

You feel your mouth drying, all words becoming lost on your tongue the longer you stare at his disposition. You don’t break it as the silence becomes awkward, as he doesn’t try to do anything to fix it. Simply sips at his coffee. His disgusting coffee.

Drinks it until it empties. Until the pancakes now in front of you remain nearly untouched and cold. Until the world stops spinning and time freezes. As the comet hits and the world ends. As society descends into chaos yet you can’t do anything but look at him.

Okay, maybe you’re exaggerating. But that’s exactly how it feels for some strange reason. How it feels to be unable to reach him.

It isn’t until he grabs his coat, sliding $30 across the table that you finally gain the courage to speak. Finally blurt out the words sitting on the tip of your tongue for the last 20 minutes.

“We should talk about last night.” You didn’t expect to say anything honestly, shocked at the air leaving your lungs.

And finally, finally he looks at you. The diner is still frozen, yes, but now he’s looking at you and for some reason that’s all that matters.

A deep drag of air fills his lungs as he sags his shoulders, rigid disposition weakening in attempt to show signs of aloof. His tail gives everything away. Sharp and pointed. Unnerved.

“What is there to talk about?”

Oh.

“What?” You feel blood leave your face, “Everything. There’s everything to talk about.”

He sighs, his eyes almost rolling at your words. Everything he does is ten times louder. Ten times greater than any storm, any power in the entire universe.

Four.

“Listen, (Y/n). Last night was a mistake, okay?”

Oh.

Is it possible for the Earth to stop rotating around the sun? For the moon to find home in another planet? Is it possible for the rings of Saturn to disband, to crack and shatter, leaving the planet feeling hollow? No more than a gaseous ball floating around an unyielding core forcing it to stay together?

It has to be. Because if it’s possible for Yoongi to say those very words, say the very words that are able to rip your soul from your body, you think anything is.

You feel something in you crack. Something so fragile and innocent that you want to protect it with your everything. Run far and hide. Nurse it alone until it stops kicking and screaming for its unending pain to yield. For it to have rest in a world that only seems to take and take and take.

“What?” You don’t even care that your voice cracks.

He sighs again, his gaze dropping to the table. “I just don’t think there’s anything to talk about, okay?”

“There’s a lot to talk about.” Your eyebrows crinkle, your mouth moving into a frustrated frown. Red isn’t a colour you feel often, but your walls are up. Your bubble now a sphere frozen in time– a place with room for no one but you. Your body curled around that innocent glow. Protecting it. Keeping it warm. “For one, calling it a mistake.”

He’s rigid again too, maybe red glowing around his form as well. But you can’t seem to care. Not right now. Maybe not ever. Not able to sense the danger. The tail pointed in your direction. Venom dripping from his lips.

“Wasn’t it? We’re friends (Y/n). One stupid night shouldn’t change that shit.” It changes fucking everything. Especially with your pining. Especially with your heart on your sleeve. With your affections for him always oh-so-fucking obvious.

“Like hell it–” He cuts you off.

“We’re done with this conversation. Just forget last night ever happened.” He stands, not planning on waiting around anymore. Not waiting for you anymore. “Just act like it never did. Nothing has to change. We’re not talking about this anymore.”

With that he leaves without letting you speak. Without letting you talk. Shutting you down entirely in a way he never has before. In a way he promised he would never do to you. And for the first time since you discovered your crush on him, you feel something negative simmering for Min Yoongi.

Q/Hybrids_Humans

U/YGS_Min • posted 5y ago

Can Hybrids and Humans actually fall in love? -> Advice

> Hi. I’m new to this page so I might get things wrong with this post. Sorry in advance if I do.

> I am a Hybrid and I recently met a girl who I think is my mate. I get all the classic mate feelings someone does when I’m around her. When we first met, a few days ago in the library, I automatically felt a pull towards her. Like I needed to be close to her. Everything in my body, my hybrid side especially, was begging for me to make her my mate right away. She even complimented my tail. Does she even know what that means? What it did to me?

> After that, she gave me her number (I’m helping her with a few things) (we're both ‘in’ college) and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Whenever I open my phone my brain automatically fries and moves to open her contact so I can text or call her. It actually feels a little crazy.

> She said she wants to be friends and I don’t know what my brain is going to do if we actually get closer.

>The issue is that she's human, though. So I already know she doesn’t feel the same way about me. She doesn’t feel the bond or the pull to get closer. And she already knows I’m a hybrid so there’s no way to avoid it.

> I’m also not the most friendly Hybrid, I guess. People don’t like my species. My mom doesn’t even like the way I was born. And I’m lucky enough to get away from where I was before and am living my own life now. Trying to do good things with it. Maybe be human with it, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway.

> Point is, I’ve looked online and while I know legally it is possible to be mates with a human, I haven’t found anything about Human’s with more odd species. And I really just want to know if this could be possible, or if I should give up before things even start. She’s the prettiest person I’ve ever seen. Her mannerisms kill me– I love them. She’s so cute. And she acted like I was just like everyone else.

> I don’t know. I want her to be my mate. But I just want to know other peoples experiences. I know she’d never be able to love me in the way I automatically do her, but if I told her she was my mate would she feel forced into it? Would she feel like I actually care? Could she ever actually care? Should I do anything about it or just pretend that it was never there in the first place?

> I never thought my mate might be human. I never thought I'd find my mate. Any advice would be appreciated. Thanks.

6 am.

Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s slept. He’s not sure he’s ever slept with the exhaustion weighing on his bones. His consciousness. His very being. In fact, all he’s had is his thoughts as the hours have ticked by, unrelenting. Unwavering. As the sun starts to shine through the curtains and the reality of everything that transpired rushes to the surface. Past the alcohol. Past your adorable soft snores.

He had you. He fucked you. For one night, you belonged to him.

The first thing he felt after he held you in bed was peace. Complete and utter satisfaction with life, with you. Everything itching at him, pulling him towards you was, for once, content. He no longer felt the burning in his heart or the pulling at his skin to get you closer. The fuzziness in his brain whenever you smiled. All of it was gone. There was nothing but happiness in his being.

Nothing but the ideas of his dream being true. Of getting to hold you like this every night. Getting you to smile for him, only him. Getting to belong to you in ways humans could never understand.

In ways you could never understand.

Something else starts creeping into his consciousness, then. Something starting in the pit of his stomach, rising until it feels like he's choking. Until not even the scent of your shampoo can calm the race of his heart. Not even the pull of his tail drawing you closer to his body– his hybrid side trying to calm him down in ways it only knows how.

How could Yoongi let himself live in such a sick dream?

You’re a human. He’s a hybrid. You would never actually love him.

Your words were drunk– of course they were. Influenced by the alcohol and the idea of a warm body next to your own. Maybe you didn’t even realise it was him, maybe it could have been anyone and you would have been satisfied.

It’s such an ugly thing, the words he thinks. The ideas that form behind his skull, twisting and turning. Forming an amalgamation of tangles and death defying drops to nothingness. Of the reality of things, his reality that is. One where he’s worthless. One where you are the sun and he is nothing but an asteroid following the orbit of someone else.

Hybrids are never meant to be with humans.

He knows that for a fact. Has read all the history books, looked at all the articles, scoured for any sign that the two of you could be together in a society that hates him only to be left with mockery. Left with anonymous strangers telling him that scorpions are meant to kill. Meant to destroy. How could a human ever care about him when his entire life he’s been told it’s the worst parts of himself? How could you care about him?

Well, he knows that isn’t all true. He knows you care in some ways. But they aren’t mate ways and–

Fuck. Fuck Yoongi, he knows he’s not supposed to think of those things. He’s never allowed to think of you and that word together. He forbade himself of it. Promised himself it couldn’t be true. That he would never admit it to you or anyone else.

You are not his mate.

But you are.

But–

He wishes he could get his head to shut the fuck up for a fucking second so he could think. Think about anything other than those two words together, even if he knew them to be true from the moment he met you in the library. When he agreed to be your tutor. When he fell in love the moment you looked his way.

And even then he thought that maybe, just maybe if you didn’t know he was a hybrid he would have a chance. That if he could keep it hidden for long enough, if you saw him as a human and not a terrifying creature bred only to kill, that you could fall for him. That he could be your mate– boyfriend. That he could be your boyfriend.

But then you saw it. Saw the fucking thing he wishes he never had, wishes he could live without. The very thing he has been hated for his entire life. His genetic abnormality, originally bred to be used for attack, used by the government to kill. The very piece of his being he rejects time and time again to try and just feel a little more normal, a little more human. And you… you said you liked it.

And no, you didn’t have any clue what those words meant at the time. Of course you didn’t. Didn’t know what they implied– didn’t know the true meaning they held. The acceptance of courtship behind their very tone.

A nice tail to a human? Nothing. A nice tail to a scorpion? The very thing used by the hybrid to attract mates? To show their viability and strength as a partner? Everything.

In that moment, you were everything.

But you didn’t know the meaning behind those words. You didn’t love him the way he so implicitly did you. And while you accepted him as a friend, you would never accept him as more. He would never let you.

That night was the night he promised himself you weren’t his mate. Promised himself he had no mate.

Last night was the first time he ever broke it.

Last night he could have killed you.

You had his tail in your mouth. His tail. The tail that carries his venom. The venom bred into his cells meant to kill others. If he let any of it out by accident… if he…

Fuck.

The heaviness that realisation brings is what finally makes him get out of bed. Finally set in motion reality. Stop himself from living in whatever dream he was playing with. Stop playing house with a girl that would never be his. That would probably think the entirety of last night was a mistake.

Who gives a shit what you thought. He could’ve killed you. He could’ve killed his fucking mate.

Societally, he could’ve never had you. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if you had to face the same things he did on the daily. What others thought of you. What they would say about you if they saw you two together. What would happen with your kids. How much hate and fear you would receive by being with him.

He could sacrifice his own life for you a thousand times, but he would never let you do the same for him.

And last night. Last night his venom could’ve been your end.

He doesn’t need to think anymore. He knows what he’s going to do. Even if it hurts him. Even if the grenade is set to go off and destroy his very being, it’s worth it to keep you safe. To keep you content. To keep you away from him.

Best case, you don’t remember last night or don’t bring it up. Worst…

Yoongi knows the ship he’s boarding is bound to sink– that he’s destined to drown. But if it means your happiness, he’d do anything.

The car feels cold. The heat is blasting, but it still feels frozen. Decrepit. All fireplace memories hazing into ice as you ride next to him.

Him.

Fucking him.

Fucking Min Yoongi. The fucking asshole that tore your heart out and stomped on it. The fucking asshole that didn’t even have the decency to talk to you. To explain why the fuck he was being so cold. The fucking asshole that made you feel loved. Like you weren’t alone in the entire universe, only to make you realise you were trapped in a metal box– steaming. Bubbling.

Maybe you aren’t cold. No, you definitely aren’t. You’re steaming. Burning up– ready to explode at the slightest thing. Still a burning blaze because he didn’t fucking let you talk. Just shut you down without a second thought. Without fucking anything.

Not that he owes you anything�� he doesn’t owe you a relationship. He doesn’t owe you love, of course not. You’re not dumb enough to think that. But you do know he owes you an explanation. A chance to speak. Years of friendship tell you that much.

Promises tell you that much.

And you can’t fucking stand broken promises. Can’t stand acting like strangers after years of friendship. After all the time spent together. After all of the memories formed, all the bonds created. You don’t deserve to be treated like nothing.

Hell, he probably wouldn’t have even come with you today if you hadn’t texted him. Probably assumed you’d rather go alone or with one of the other people on the crew. Probably– shut up, you decide in that moment to stop making excuses for him. To stop giving him the benefit of the doubt when he treated you as no less than a one-night-stand. A fuck that meant nothing.

Were fucking years of friendship just for that? Just so he could fuck you? This fucking–

You scoff to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. Shaking your head. An outloud reaction to the continued spiral that started this morning, that will continue to brew until it inevitably boils over. Until the pot filled with too much water gets too hot and just boils over.

You never have been able to keep your opinions in. Open book pages laid out for the world to see. Another reason you’ve always been alone– should have stayed alone in your bubble.

“What?” Oh, he wants to talk to you now?

Your eyes shoot over to his figure from the corner of your eye. You can’t believe that yesterday you were smiling at him. You hate that today a piece of you still frets at the trapping of his fingers against the wheel. At his apparent aloof demeanour is automatically disillusioned by the simple movement indicating his nerves.

He always does that when he knows a big storm is coming– when he’s worried about safety, your safety. When he's concerned about whatever events are going to follow. A tick tick tick, fingers tapping delicately one after the other. Not a harsh grab against the wheel, not an unease of temperament. Yoongi, even when nervous or agitated, has always been gentle.

Well, every time except for this morning.

You roll your eyes.

As much as you hate how self destructive you become in times like these, you hate the bubbling feeling even more. Hate the strong emotion that floods your veins, the same one that makes you feel oh-so weak. The same one that makes you need to be strong. Need to be more.

Maybe you wish you could be more like Yoongi– be entirely unaffected by the strong feelings that permeate your being. Maybe you wish you could act as ‘chill’ as him. To separate how you feel from who you are. To be calm even if you want to be brash.

But you can’t. Not when it's about him. Never when it’s about him. Almost like a piece of you continues and will always pull you towards Min Yoongi.

You turn away from him, back to the laptop resting in your lap. “The PAR says a tornado is forming north-east. Head North so we can drop the doppler in the right position.”

“Mm.” He grunts. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t do anything.

You don’t know what you expect him to do anyway. You didn’t give him anything to work with. Yet it doesn’t seem thinking logically is on the table, and you can’t help but get more mad, more frustrated by the second.

“Are we really not going to talk about this?” You’re quiet, almost vulnerable when you ask the question. So quiet he might not even hear. Hanging on the precipice, two winds twisting against each other in equal strength.

Never have you felt this way about another person before. Dejection and anger weigh equally on the soul. You don’t quite know how to handle it. Don’t know how to combat what you’re feeling inside, just knowing the kettle is set to boil.

He doesn’t answer your question.

It was probably a bad idea to text him. Probably equally bad for him to answer and take you. An even worse idea to let the words slip out of your mouth without holding them back.

“Asshole.” The wind starts to pick up speed around the car, sucking you in. Pulling you deeping into the void. It’ll be no time at all before the tornado hits.

“What?” His head jerks backwards, chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail coiled firmly behind him, acting like it isn’t even there. Trying to pretend he isn't there, maybe.

“I said you’re a fucking asshole.” You can’t help the rumble that forms in your heart, the twisted words that spew from your mouth. The subtle ache from every insult you fling.

Almost like you’re attached to him. Like you’re attempting to sever a chain never meant to come undone.

“What the fuck?” Why he’s acting so scandalised, flinching at every word, leaves you almost confused. Almost. Because he has no reason to be confused, at least not in your eyes. Not in the storm's eyes either.

The rumble of thunder hammers outside, deeper into the freeze. Deeper into ash.

“I thought we were going to move past this, (Y/n). We need to be adults here.” He sighs that stupid fucking sigh that you hate. The same one he used in the diner. The same one he used to brush off your feelings. Your chance to speak.

Maybe later you would reflect on how selfish you’re being. Maybe later you would realise how childish you actually are acting. But right now all you can see is red. Right now all you can feel is a part of yourself trying to rip away.

Maybe later you would find out Yoongi is feeling the exact same thing.

But right now, right now all you see is red. All you hear is the beating of hail against the car roof, the image that it is your own heartbeat set in your own mind. Right now all you know is the soul crushing weight of the only man you ever loved pulling away.

Your soulmate– if such things were real, breaking the bond.

“Are you serious? I’m the one that needs to be the adult here? Me?” You scoff, indignant. “You’re the one playing pretend, acting like nothing happened!”

“I told you that we shouldn’t talk about it.”

“You said it was a mistake.” Your eyes are set firm in a glare pointed at him and no one but him. Petty and Spite are your new best friends. Congratulations! “Just tell me if you fucking regret it Yoongi, just tell me.”

“(Y/n).”

“Was it a drunk accident? Did you think I was someone else? Please! I rather you say fucking something than nothing at all! Please just let me be selfish for once! I’m begging for something! Anything!”

…

“We have a job to do. Focus on it rather than us.” You hate that he paused before he spoke, that it gave you some sort of hope. You hate even more that his tone has not once changed– settling from incredulous to neutral. Almost like he exists as nothing but a robot reciting lines. You hate it. You hate it. You hate it.

He makes you feel like a child throwing a tantrum. He makes it feel like your feelings mean nothing. Like everything you trusted him with was all for naught. Are you not expressing yourself well enough? Are you a complete idiot? What the fuck are you doing wrong?! What's wrong?!

“You’re serious?” The logical side of you says he’s right, your job is more important than anything else. But the piece of you falling apart, pulling away and leaving an empty hole inside feels otherwise. You’re convinced you’ve never felt any emotion other than frustration and annoyance.

The car rolls to a stop as a clearing hits– hail ceasing, wind slowing even if it's just a fraction. A calm before the storm. Where you’re meant to ‘dO yOuR jOb’-- fucking asshole. Does he really think you don’t know that? Does he really think that little of you?

“Fucking joke.” You can’t help the dry laugh that exits your lungs as you step out of the car. Your peace, the time you love to spend most in the world set askew, your feelings anything but. You love your time in the storms, but the tornado brewing inside casts a much larger shadow than the one overhead.

Your hands fumble as they move the DOW out of the trunk– an action you’ve done time and time again feeling entirely foreign. Your body clumsy as it carries it to the front, your mouth spewing annoyed half thoughts all the way.

“What?” Yoongi’s window is rolled down, his head leaning out of the front as he asks.

Your eyes circle your skull again, “Fucking joke!” You call, trying to set up the radar. Your body only half in the moment. Half in the clouds.

“This whole thing is one big joke!” You shout, foot kicking the dirt beneath your feet. The storm beginning to dissipate, a swell of rain forming behind your eyelids instead.

“(Y/n) are you serious?!” You hate that his own frustration feels like a punch to the gut.

“I have been this whole time!” You shout, brain finally working to kick the last pieces of the radar in place. In good time too, the wind is picking up again. The tornado will be coming soon.

“Are you?! Are we seriously not going to talk about this?!” Your voice doesn’t feel like your own. It feels foreign, like something deeper inside is speaking for you– like it’s taking control. “Am I seriously just a cheap fuck to you?! Was I really a mistake, Yoongi?! Please, please just tell me.”

“(Y/n), don’t do this to me…” Don’t do this to him? Don’t do this to him?! Does he realise what he’s doing to you? Does he even fucking care? You told him you want him! That nothing could keep you from him– and he doesn’t even have the decency to reject you properly.

Maybe you're the bad guy– the villain for forcing this. For the path of destruction it might cause. But you truly can’t stand this. And maybe, just for once, the consequences mean as little to you as getting swallowed by the storms you’ve always cared for.

Yoongi is your impossible, remember? “But it’s always been about you! Don’t you get that, Yoongi?! It’s always! Always been about you from the second I met you!” You yell, not holding back your shouts. Letting them echo with the thunder coursing through the skies, coursing through your veins. “I’m not asking you to love me! I’m not asking for any of that shit! I just want a rejection!”

What? What the hell are you saying? Why are you asking him to do that? Why are you asking him to do the one thing he can’t do?

He loves you. He loves you so much it keeps him up at night. That it infests his days like a parasite. You’re not asking him to love you? Are you crazy? Do you not see how he looks at you? Do you not see that you’re the person that’s hung all the stars in the night sky?

He can’t reject you. He can’t. His brain won’t let him form the words– his lips never to curl in the right shape to let them out. He can’t reject you because he doesn’t want to– because it would practically kill him to.

He loves you. You’re his mate.

Why couldn’t you just make this easy? Why couldn’t you reject him? Why did you have to look so broken this morning? Why did you like him back? What does it mean? What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to keep fighting when he knows he could have you for himself, for real?

How is he supposed to protect you from him when it feels like he’s ripping a part of himself out when he tries to? He doesn’t want to hurt you. He never wanted to hurt you. He just wants to keep you safe. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you understand that? Why can’t he just have you?

‘No one can keep me from you. You’re for me.’

Your words from last night ring in his ears. Existing as the only thing he can hear, the only thing that matters. Maybe it is. Maybe he’s wrong, maybe–

A sharp beeping suddenly penetrates his ears, a sound resonating from your laptop. A map laid out of the tornado's path.

It's formed– its body barrelling straight for you.

Yoongi looks scared, nervous. His tail uncurling from behind him. Reaching out the window, reaching out to you. “(Y/n)! Get in the car!”

“Shut up!” You’re not listening to him, not listening to a word he says, “I’m not even worth a rejection?! Our friendship means nothing, huh?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” His breathing is accelerating, his heart rate going crazy. He needs to get to you. He needs to protect you. To get in the car and drive as fast and as far as he can so nothing bad happens. “Get in the car!”

“Why does it even matter if I do or not?!” You yell over the sounds of rushed winds, ignoring debris that begin to fly past. Ignoring everything but the man in front of you, just like you’ve done time and time again. “If I get in, you’re just going to pretend nothing happened! You’re going to– you’re going to–”

Tears begin to clog your vision, your words welling up in your throat. Scratching the inside, making you feel like you can’t breathe. Can’t think. Where you want to be strong, you are weak. And where you want to be weak, you feel strong. It’s a strange sort of feeling.

“I can’t just fucking pretend like nothing happened last night, Yoongi!” A sense of peace washes over you, a complete contrast to the storm surrounding, enveloping the world. Acting as a monster, not caring about your feelings, swallowing everything whole. You finally feel at peace, oddly enough.

“I can’t– I can’t just act like everything’s fine! I’ve always been so fucking shit at that, you know that!” You throw your arms up in defeat, standing right in the path of the storm. Almost ready to watch the tornado come into view, to become the storm yourself. “But it feels like– it feels like you’re killing a part of me! Like you’re, you’re pulling out a piece of my very being and I don’t know why! It doesn’t feel real! And I don’t know if I can live without it!”

What? It feels like– it feels like that for you?

Yoongi steps out of the car, his tail curling almost too pleased at his human side’s actions. If it was anyone else, they would think you’re crazy. They would think you’re just being manipulative without a care in the world– but to Yoongi, to hybrids, he knows exactly what you're talking about. He knows the exact same thing. Has felt it every day of his life since he decided he couldn’t have you.

The mate bond. The soulmate tie that will always lead two halves of a conjoined soul together over and over again.

You feel it. Humans aren’t meant to feel it but you do. You feel the same pull, the same bone crushing heartbreak upon rejection from your mate. The same– the same everything Yoongi feels.

He’s the one that's been hurting you like this, the one hurting himself by acting the same. In his bid for protection, he did the opposite. What kind of fucking mate is he? Why didn’t he just listen to the bond? Why didn’t he just let himself follow his heart?

Everything he’s dealt with in his past no longer carries any point. The comments under his stupid post to that stupid forum mean nothing. The words of his “family” are jack shit. The societal implications of him being less than human mean even less– you never saw him as less. His mate cares. His mate sees him.

This is what having a mate feels like? Yoongi thought he would never know. Never understand. But the warmth that feels him now, the subtle yearning he’s suppressed rises to the surface. His feet carrying him automatically, urging him to find you. To take care of you. To keep his mate safe.

“We have to go!” He rushes, his legs moving quickly to try and meet your form. To try and find you.

“No! No!” You shout, your foot stomping into the Earth. In any other scenario, he’d be shaking his head. Laugh at your antics. But right now, all he cares about is getting you to safety, and working on both of your communication skills. “I need you to tell me I’m a mistake! I need you to say I meant nothing!”

There you stand, arms open. Wind rushing past you, eyes closed yet looking straight ahead. You could never mean nothing, you mean everything. It’s his own stupid fault he ever let you think otherwise.

“I just said what I needed to say!” He shouts, his body finally meeting yours in the open field. His hands land on your shoulders, trying to ground you. Hair blowing around him, sticks flying past but never hitting the two of you. Almost like this needed to happen, like fate was set in stone for this very moment.

Your eyes slowly open, and Yoongi thinks the world freezes around him. Misty watersheds sit in your tearline, your eyebrows forming together in confusion with his words. Your lungs raising and falling quickly, chest panting with effort held back. Emotions yet to be unraveled.

If you feel the bond now, how long have you felt it? How confused you must’ve been. Yoongi feels awful.

“Wh-what?” Your voice cracks, cheeks warm and irises searching for an answer. What is he doing? Why is he saying this now? Why does some part of you feel whole again?

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t quite know how to articulate his words. But his body does. His body does what it’s been begging to do since he met you in that library. That he’s been holding back from every day of his stupid, (Y/n)-lacking life.

He leans in, his lips pressing against yours roughly. Trying to tell you all the words he never said, trying to put everything, all of him into one measly kiss. One that means something. One that tells the story of the two of you.

You, you can’t do anything but listen. Your eyes closing, your body returned whole. The piece of you pulling away settling back into your heart like stone. Warmth flooding your veins, home filling your very being. Making you feel safe, making you feel cared for.

And when he finally pulls away, you hear the words you’ve always longed to know, “I love you and I’m sorry.”

Yoongi feels free upon their utterance. A ball chain holding him back breaking– reality setting the world into motion once again. The earth that needs to keep spinning, that needs to keep the two of you afloat.

You should feel mad, but you can’t feel anything but peace. But feel like your soulmate has returned home from a voyage you would never understand.

Before anything else can be said, Yoongi snaps his head to the left. His eyes going wide as the winds begins to form in front of him. Looking as if they’re not moving. As if nothing is moving. “Fuck, fuck.”

He grabs your hand, pulling you back to the car as it starts to take focus in front of your mind, too. Fuzzy feeling fading, eyes going wide as you scramble from his door into your seat. He follows in quickly after you, not even thinking to buckle before taking off. Driving as if his life depends on it– your life depends on it, too.

Sticks flying past the windshield, hitting against the body. Thunderous roars of the world being consumed outside. A tail pressing against your frame, holding you steady. Keeping you in place.

It’s only when you come to safety that all the words needing to be said finally spill out from both of your mouths. When everything is set ‘right’ again instead of feeling oh-so-wrong. It’s only then that he explains everything. That he explains his logic, that he explains how hybrids have soulmates. Don’t forget the scolding he gave– the promises made to each other that the other would never do something so stupid again.

He knows you meant them.

He’ll never forget the way you smiled at him then. When the heaviness left the air and the freedom surrounding the car became almost overbearing. He wishes he could tattoo the places you playfully slapped into his arm. Where you scolded him for keeping this from you. When you told him you would never have a second thought about rejecting him.

When you told him you could never think of a life where he isn’t your mate.

“...Or boyfriend. Or partner. Whatever you wanna call it.”

You’ll never forget his gummy smile in that moment, when he has a possessive hand on your thigh.

“I don’t care. I just want to be yours.”

Wind wraps at your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself a messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in his ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person.

And Yoongi? He can’t help but think you look like an angel enthralled in the storm. One that came to earth. One that was meant to find him. One that was created just for him.

He can’t help but bask in you– bask in his mate as you live in your freedom, your happiness. Gets to be one of the lucky few finding sanctuary in your world. In your bubble made just for you.

He smiles to himself as he watches. Shakes his head like a stupid boy in stupid love that couldn’t be happier. He’s so happy.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening a familiar app that he once looked to for advice all those years ago. Going to the same post he read the replies to over and over again– convincing himself that his impossible couldn’t be reality. He shakes his head as he reads them now, almost feeling foolish for believing him in the first place. Why should he have asked on a human forum anyway? It’s like he was asking to be let down.

As he scrolls, his thumb comes to a stop above a comment he’s never seen before— a recent one. Posted just a few months ago.

RMB_Joon

> Hey! This post is being talked about a lot on another forum specifically for hybrids! :-) I left the link for you as I think it would be a lot more helpful getting perspectives over there! :-) PM me if you ever want to talk.

Yoongi feels a curl of interest grow in his gut. Other hybrids? Interest in his post? He almost wants to know more. Almost wants to follow the inkling leading him to delve deeper into the world of others.

“Yoongi!!” You shout, waving his attention over to where you stand. And suddenly, he doesn’t care about anything else anymore. How could he when he has the whole world in front of him?

He chuckles to himself, marking his post as ‘resolved’ before tucking the device into his pocket. His legs catching into a jog, joining you at your side. Exactly where he should be. Where he’s meant to be.

⋆𐙚 WAHH THERE IT IS!!! I hope you all enjoyed <\\33 pls let me know any of your thoughts!! this is officially the longest fic I’ve ever written, and I put a lot of myself into this piece so I hope u all love it and it isn’t too skdhsksks yk?? MWAH ily �� all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

234 notes · View notes

hwaslayer · 2 days ago

Text

the space between us three (jyh) | one.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 7k

⇢chapter content/warnings: not much - just a basic intro to yunho x seora, yunho is 31 and seora is 11, cussing, mentions of character death, mentions of a tragic car accident by drunk driving, mentions of casual relationships (not yunho), mentions of distant/unsupportive parents

⇢a/n: it's finally here! i hope you all enjoy this journey and tysm for coming along! i'm not sure what the update schedule will be for this, but i'll try my best to update in between wildfire; this series came to me suddenly so i barely did any prior planning or writing. 😭 anywho, ty again for your support on this! <33

"Seora." Yunho calls her name one last time as he pops in two toaster strudels into the toaster. He lets out a small sigh, pausing when he doesn't hear any movements coming from her room. Just as he finishes getting his coffee together, he turns on his heel to head back down the hallway to check on his 11-year old daughter.

"I'm up." She mumbles, dragging herself across the hallway and into the bathroom. Yunho stands there for a minute, doing a slight head tilt before heading back to the kitchen.

"Well, that was slightly easy today." He finishes packing her lunch [some quickly made spam masubi], making sure she has all her favorite snacks tucked neatly in her lunch box. He nibbles onto some hardboiled eggs he made for himself, plopping Seora's toaster strudels onto a plate. She takes about a good 30 minutes before she's out and dressed in her uniform, hair neatly brushed and pulled back into a low ponytail. "Morning." He hands her the plate after she pours herself some milk. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine, I guess." She sits and takes a bite before looking at her dad, leaning against the counter. "Just wish it was still the weekend." Yunho chuckles.

"Told you to stop sleeping late. Scrolling through TikTok and all that mess."

"Dad. I beg to differ." She says so matter-of-factly. "I get a lot from TikTok. If anything, I'm up late cause I'm learning."

"Please. You could also learn alot from those books you carry into the school I pay heavily for."

"Yes, okay, but I learn other things. Like how to do cute hairstyles for myself. How to cook one pot dishes. What's important in an emergency kit. How to file taxes. Ou, and let's not forget the cool goodies on TikTok shop—"

"Why would you learn filing taxes on there?" Yunho furrows his brows. "It's not even something you need to worry about now."

"It's helping me prepare for the real world." She cocks a brow up and turns slightly. "What if you get too busy and forget to teach me?"

"Like you're not gonna pick up the phone to call me and have me do it for you when you get older." Yunho crosses his arms and leans back against the counter.

"See, no. I'll learn."

"Jeez, times really have changed."

"You're only 31 but you sure sound like you're turning 80." She looks at him with a small teasing smile even though he's squinting his eyes at her.

"I'll just act like you didn't say that." He playfully scoffs.

"Dad, don't you ever go on Instagram or Twitter? Anything?"

"Not like I used to. My Instagram is probably collecting cobwebs." She chuckles. "I just don't find it useful."

"I mean, you can see what your friends are up to. Like Uncle Hwa or Uncle Mingi. They post alot, no?"

"Your uncles don't even do anything fun. They aren't even fun."

"Uncle Mingi travels a lot!" Yunho shrugs and nods in agreement. "Anyway, there's also good resources on there, actually."

"I would have never thought Twitter or Instagram could be categorized as resources."

"Pushing 85 now." He's playfully rolling his eyes now.

"Hurry and eat so we can get you to school on time." He checks his watch. "You have practice today, right?"

"Mhm."

"Are you riding home with Chan-mi?"

"Yup!"

"Sorry, ace. I'll be home a bit after you, okay?" Seora smiles toothlessly at her father when she hears the beloved nickname slip from his lips. It had been a long time coming with that nickname, but Seora loves every bit of it. She knows it's her dad's way of saying he's proud of her in every way; all the good grades she gets, the games she plays, the hard days in and out of practice.

She is his ace, his everything.

"No big." She cleans up her plate and drinks the rest of her milk before washing her dishes.

"Text me what you want for dinner later." She nods, facing him after setting the dishes on the rack.

"Ready." She throws her backpack strap over her shoulder.

"Alright." He grabs his bag and his thermos before handing Seora her lunch bag. He takes one last look around the kitchen to make sure all is good and unplugged before heading out the door to the car. Seora is patiently waiting at the passenger's door, already scrolling away on her phone.

"Goodmorning you two!" Auntie Love, the next door neighbor, calls out. Yunho and Seora have grown a fond, wholesome relationship with their neighbors— they call themselves Auntie Love and Uncle Po. Despite having that relationship, Yunho feels like he doesn't know much about them besides the fact that their kids are grown and off doing their own thing— barely visiting cause of busy lives. At least, he's never seen them visit while he's around. They're sweet, and they always bring over food and check up on Seora when she's home alone while Yunho is still finishing up at work. "Where's my sweet girl?" Auntie Love comes running out in her pajamas just to give Seora a big bear hug. "Yunho, she grows more and more beautiful every day."

"Yeah she does, and the attitude grows, too!" She laughs just as he hops in the driver's seat, waving them off for the day.

"Dad." She buckles her seatbelt at the same time as he father, giving him the green light to drive off.

"That's me." Seora snorts. "What's up?"

"Have you ever met Auntie Love and Uncle Po's kids?"

"Never." Granted, Yunho and Seora just moved to their current spot about a year and a half ago, starting fresh in a smaller house that would be perfect for the two of them. But, he does find it a little odd that he's never even ran into them once. "I know they exist, I just never see them when I'm around. It's also kinda crazy cause Auntie Love said her daughter works at the same hospital as me, but it's such a huge hospital, I don't think we'd ever cross paths."

"That's pretty crazy if you did and you just didn't know it." Seora looks out the window. "I wonder why they don't visit often. They seem like such cool parents."

"People get busy and have their own lives to end to. Plus, the sad thing about parenting is that we prepare our kids to tough it out in the world without us." Yunho playfully pinches her cheeks, making her laugh a bit.

"I'll always need you." Yunho smiles.

"You say that now, but once you find your footing in the world and someone who will take care of you, I'll be a long distant memory."

"Stop. Don't say that. I'll always need you." She repeats, tugging onto his free arm and hugging onto it like a koala. Yunho laughs at her as she continues to tug on his arm, giving it a few more playful tugs before she's letting go. "Dad."

"Yes?"

"Can you take me and my friends shopping this weekend?"

"Oh, so that's why you were being that way?" He pokes fun at her and she laughs.

"No! It's obviously because I love you."

"I love you, too." He smiles. "What're you guys trying to do?"

"I wanna buy more stuff for my scrapbook. Like stickers and stuff. And they just wanna walk around an shop. Do cute girly things." She shimmies a bit in her seat.

"Don't you have a ton of scrapbooking supplies sitting on your desk?" Yunho flawlessly turns down the street, approaching the lot to her school.

"I'm running through them. Plus, I need more highlighters and pens. And there's a new edition of the sticker books I buy." She pouts and pleads. "Please, please, please!"

"Seora." He laughs. "Yeah, cause you could certainly use more." He jokes. "Sure. Just let me know. But!"

"But?" She looks at him.

"As long as I can drag one of your uncles along."

"Duh." She laughs. "You're the best." She mumbles as she types away on her phone, Yunho pulling into a spot to walk her towards the school entrance. He helps her with her backpack, duffle bag and lunch bag, trailing behind his daughter with his hands in his pockets. He greets a few parents and teachers, pausing in his tracks just as they get to the steps. She turns to look at him, a smile on her face. Yunho looks at her and still can't believe his babygirl is already 11, going on 12 soon. She's tall, just like her father. She's got the same eyes and smile, but she definitely has similarities to Eunha. She's become quite the athlete, head deep in her books.

Time sure flies.

"See you later, ace. Have a good day at school and practice, k? Remember, text me when you get home and what you're craving for dinner." She nods, throwing her arms around her dad before they do their little handshake.

"I will. Have a good day too, gramps." He rolls his eyes again and shakes his head as he watches her walk up the steps and disappear into the main lobby of the school.

"Goodmorning Yunho." One of the moms passing by waves and smiles sweetly at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she tries to keep her blushing subtle. He gives her a simple nod of acknowledgement with a tiny smile, slipping into his car to head to work.

Yunho can't really remember the time he went on a real date.

He has met a few women, but super casually. He didn't really feel anything special with anyone, and he's someone who loves to connect with people. Otherwise, he finds it to be a waste of time. He's not sure how people [aka Uncle Mingi and Uncle Seonghwa] slept around without getting attached; he doesn't think he could pull it off the same way.

Plus, he comes with a forever plus one. His Seora, his babygirl, his ace. And he will always put her before anything, anyone.

Maybe Yunho was just numb. Losing Eunha was the hardest thing he's ever had to endure, and he still feels it 'till this day, as if that accident was yesterday. Seora had been shy over 4 years old when she was tragically struck by an oncoming drunk driver, leaving her car to flip off the highway. Seora barely got to live her life with her mother and that's what aches the most for Yunho. He knows she's fine, and he knows he's tried his best all these years to help shape her into who she is today. But, he knows there is a part of her that misses her mother terribly, that yearns for a mother's love even though Yunho has done everything he can to fill the shoes for both.

So, he thinks about that when he goes on dates. He could never replace Eunha, but he also knows him and Seora are good with where they're at. No one else needed to come into the mix to disrupt their flow for now. Although, he yearns for love too, though. He is scared, but he is equally sad that the truest, most raw form of love he's ever experienced was stripped away from him so fast— he barely got to indulge in Eunha being there as his wife. He's not sure if he'll ever move past it, even though Seonghwa and Mingi tell him time and time again that he deserves to experience love despite everything that's happened.

That he's still deserving of it, and that he should try to open his heart up to it.

He isn't sure how Seora would be though, and that's the most important thing for him. Because he just wants his daughter to be happy. He will always put her first.

When he drives off to work, he pulls into the staff garage and flashes his badge to the security guard waiting at the booth. He drives down to the 2nd level before he's able to find a spot and reverses into it flawlessly. He shuts off the car and grabs his backpack, heading straight to the stairs to bring him back up to the ground level and entrance of the main hospital.

The main hospital has 8 floors, with the emergency room off to the side and valet at the front for patient pickup. It's connected to an adjacent building, the older hospital— which has 3 floors and the older emergency room at the back end of the building. The pediatrics hospital is right behind the main hospital but there isn't a bridge connecting the two; staff typically have to take a 5-10 minute walk over if they need anything on that end. Along the ways are food trucks and mobile coffee trucks, with cafeterias and smaller cafés and shops situated inside the buildings itself.

The hospital is huge and could literally float and function as its own island if it wanted to.

"Morning, Yunho!" One of the front desk staff members greets him. Yunho sends them a small salute, before smiling and responding back.

"Goodmorning!" Yunho's dressed in jeans and a thick black sweater, the colder weather slowly making its way in at this time of the year. He heads up to the second floor, his office nestled in the corner of the huge office space dedicated to his IT team and part of the administrative team. He greets everyone goodmorning on the way over, setting his things down before he comes out to chat a bit with his team members.

"Yo." He leans against an empty desk while sipping on his coffee.

"Sup boss." Taehyun swings around in his chair, while his other two coworkers, Kyung-soo and Jihoon plop into their chairs. "How's it going?"

"Alright, not too bad." Yunho chuckles. "How about you?"

"All good, can't complain." His main team is made up of 10 people— Taehyun being the team lead, the others branching into specifics like system administrators, helpdesk techs and cybersecurity. His team alone supports a few departments since the hospital is so huge— other IT teams are spread out to cover other remaining wings; plus, the older hospital and the pediatrics corner. From time to time, they'll hop in and help if needed. Without Taehyun's help triaging and prioritizing certain tasks, Yunho wouldn't be able to focus on the high-level aspects of his job. Of course, their team meshes with so many different departments within the hospital— they're all involved deeply in current ongoing and new developments.

"Didn't seem like we got too many tickets last night? Any urgent action items come up in the last hour or so?" Taehyun shakes his head.

"Not really. We've been sorting through and closing out those tickets. Most have been quick fixes." Yunho nods.

"Sounds good. I gotta work on that new clinical project that's opening up on the fifth floor soon. Might loop some of you guys in to help with the Epic implementation and other tweaks we might need to incorporate for patient ordering."

"Aye! They're finally moving forward with it?" Yunho chuckles.

"Yeah, I guess they've slowly been recruiting patients for their program so they've been moving at a quick pace for the space and everything."

"Sick, that'll be a big project."

"Yup, already starting to feel like it. Thanks for handling those tickets. If we can make sure we stay on top of the queue and help get the AV system going for the board meeting happening in the next hour, that would be great." Yunho goes through a few other priorities he needs his team members to focus on, thanking them for all their hardwork before excusing himself to the office and beginning his own project planning and schedule organization.

He's got a few higher-level meetings to hop into, especially to debrief about the new clinical department opening up and its current timeline. He also needs to set some time aside to brainstorm the data migration request he got a few days ago for another department, along with figuring out how to structure this new department's servers, bandwidth and storage.

It doesn't sound like much, but Yunho definitely has his day cut out for him.

And as he expected, he's barely getting a moment to breathe. Especially when Taehyun pulls him into an urgent server issue that has him thinking on his feet for close to 15 minutes until he realizes the best way to move forward without any major data loss. Then, he's making it to the next meeting but he is already exhausted and hungry. He doesn't get the chance to grab lunch until 1:30pm— Yunho rushing over to the cafeteria to grab today's lunch special before they stop offering hot food.

"Today ended up being a lot busier than expected." Yunho mumbles as he slips into a seat, Taehyun and Jihoon following suit in the spaces in front of him.

"Seriously. Thanks for your help with the servers."

"All good." Yunho chuckles. "Sooner or later, we'll find better ways to tackle those issues. I know we're gonna have to work on upgrades soon."

"Agreed. And it's probably about time." Jihoon chimes in. "I know we were kinda brushing it off for a bit but I'm slowly seeing it crumble." Yunho nods.

"Nah, I agree. I'll think about it over the next few days. Let me know if you guys have any ideas." Yunho sips his water. "I'll also need your help for the clinical project a lot sooner than expected. I'll forward any invites so you two can start attending meetings. It'll be good for you to get involved now so you have a better idea of the setting and the trials taking place in this new department."

"Sounds good! Let me know if you need anything else, we'll be happy to help out." Yunho smiles and cocks his head to the side.

"Thanks. How's everything else been with you guys? I've been going through candidates, but I expect us to interview and wrap up the whole thing by next month. We'll get some extra help."

"Thanks, boss. That's good to hear." Taehyun hums. "And hm, I think everyone's completely fine and taking it day by day. No one seems to be unhappy."

"We've got a good team and good people around us so I can't complain either. Days are busy but wouldn't want it any other way." Jihoon takes a spoonful of food into his mouth and shrugs. "Got a good manager." He points at Yunho.

"Well, least I'm doing something right?" Taehyun laughs and shakes his head.

"Have a little faith, will you?" Taehyun smiles. "The team doesn't go anywhere without you."

"I think it's the other way around for sure."

"Hey." Seonghwa pops in and sits next to Yunho. Taehyun and Jihoon nod at Seonghwa and send their usual greetings, Yunho knitting his brows at how flustered he looks.

"You okay? Should I even ask?" Seonghwa shakes his head.

"Just tired." Seonghwa takes a bite of the sandwich he brought over. "This health fair we've been planning is driving me crazy. Vendors have been too flakey and our deadline to finalize everything is next week. Plus, I gotta get those interviews and articles done for the new department by next week, too." Seonghwa is one of the marketing and communications managers for the hospital. He had been working here for a bit longer than Yunho, and actually introduced him to the hiring manager and IT director when they were in dire need of building a new team to support the growth of the new main hospital. They had both been working there for a couple of years, Seonghwa organically growing from the bottom up since he had started. Yunho respects him alot [besides the fact that he's one of his bestfriends], and admires his work ethic. Seonghwa is probably one of the constants in his life that helps push him to where he needs to be and serves as a reminder that he needs to keep going regardless of what life brings to the table.

"I bet you're hella roped into the fine details for that." Taehyun says.

"Yeah, and it doesn't help that the core faculty members are all crazy busy. They're all psychiatrists and neurosurgeons. I can barely get them to respond about meeting with me to talk about it." Seonghwa sighs. "Anyway, that's all. I just needed to let that out, so thanks." They all chuckle.

"Yeah." Yunho looks at him. "Going to that huge introductory meeting later this week then?"

"Mhm."

"By the way, how's you and Seora?" Taehyun asks.

"My ace!" Seonghwa adds.

"We're as good as we can be." Yunho smiles, eyes looking down at the polaroid on the back of his phone that Seora slipped in. It's a picture of them two at the amusement park, wearing cute headbands per her request.

"That's good. School and basketball still treating her okay?" Yunho nods. "Cool. I'm glad you're doing okay. I just wasn't sure when I could ask since you've been so busy."

"You can always pop into my office." Yunho laughs. "But, thank you. I appreciate you guys for asking and for all your help."

"Does she have a game soon?" Seonghwa cuts in to ask.

"Think so. Pretty sure."

"Let me know. I'll try and make it." Seonghwa's eyes are traveling across the room, situated on a person as they grab their lunch and sit at a table on the opposite end of the room.

"How's that going?" Yunho follows his gaze and lets out a small laugh. Jihoon and Taehyun can't help themselves either, subtly looking over their shoulder to see what has gotten Seonghwa all quiet. It's Yoori, one of the Directors of Space and Planning, and the same girl he had been seeing recently.

"I dunno. It's alright I guess."

"Do you think you'll end up in something serious with her?"

"No." Seonghwa chuckles it off, but internally, he's torn between keeping Yoori as his past-time or his full-time.

"She seems to like you a lot already." Yunho continues to look at Yoori as she talks to her coworkers. She's about 4 years older than them. Was in a long term relationship that ended a few months ago, according to Seonghwa. He thought it was a good opportunity to get to know her and have some fun, assuming she wouldn't be ready for a relationship. He might've been wrong because yeah, she does like him a lot already. She's been hinting at it a lot. It's not that Seonghwa can't see them being something serious— he's just not sure if he's ready to jump into that or take that road right now.

He likes his independence and he likes having fun, he's not gonna lie about it.

"Yeah, but we already talked about where we were at and she agreed on it, so."

"Uh huh.." Yunho responds. "You know, it's okay to want something serious." He chuckles. But, before Seonghwa can respond, he nods towards the aisle ahead.

"Hm." Seonghwa hums. "Speaking of something serious to get into."

"Hey Yunho!" One of the nurses, Ara, passes by with her friends, smiling at him. "Seonghwa, Taehyun, Jihoon." She gives them nods of acknowledgements.

"Sup!" They all say in their own way.

"Hey Ara." He looks up at her.

"Haven't seen you around for awhile?"

"Just been running around is all."

"Locked up in his office actually—" Taehyun says, causing Yunho to press on his foot under the table. "Ouch— yeah, we've all been busy."

"I see." She giggles. "How's Seora?"

"Good!"

"Give her a big hug for me." Ara smiles. "We should definitely grab some dinner one day and hang out. Bring Seora, too!"

"For sure! Sounds fun."

"See you around then, maybe?" She subtly bites onto her bottom lip as her friends giggle away and hurry along to a table.

"Yeah, I'll see you." She waves for one last goodbye before reuniting with her friends. Seonghwa lets out a small snort, while Taehyun and Jihoon quietly poke away at their food with a smirk growing on their lips.

"Um, so." Jihoon laughs when he's the first to break the silence. "She's definitely interested."

"And Yunho definitely should take the opportunity." Seonghwa responds right away, making Yunho shake his head.

"Nah."

"Why not? She's literally opening the door in front of you. Doesn't hurt to try."

"Could be fun. Doesn't have to be serious." Jihoon adds. "She's cute."

"You should see where it takes you. No harm in letting it go if it doesn't pan out as expected." Taehyun also adds his two cents.

"Was not expecting to get lectured by you three during lunch." They laugh.

"Seriously." Seonghwa looks at him. "It's been awhile since you've went on a date. Just see where it goes." Yunho stays silent as he pokes at his food, thinking about the whole thing. It couldn't hurt just to see where it'd take him— and quite frankly, he could use someone new to talk to and hang out with. It doesn't necessarily mean it needs to work out into anything. "I will literally sit at home with Seora and keep her occupied when you take Ara out." Yunho sighs and finally meets his gaze.

"Really now? I'm holding you to it."

"Yes! Not like I haven't before. Could use time to hangout with my ace and bring back the favorite uncle title." Yunho chuckles.

"Yeah, gotta say. Mingi has been taking over." Yunho says just to rile him up even though there's no such thing for Seora; she loves her uncles equally.

"Well, fuck Mingi." Taehyun and Jihoon laugh. "Ask her later. Or tomorrow. Promise me. It doesn't have to turn into anything but at least get out of the house and hang out with a fresh face." Seonghwa turns back to his food. "But for your sake, I hope it does." He mumbles, causing Yunho to nudge him.

"Fine, but no promises on a specific outcome."

"My job here is done." Seonghwa sips on his soda and tosses a crumpled napkin into the sandwich wrapper.

"Shoulda known."

"I was just gonna catch up with you guys, not my fault she happened to walk by at the same time." Seonghwa chuckles and stands. "Gotta get back to my desk and start pressing people for answers. See you guys around." He stands and grabs his trash, making his way to the trash can before walking off out of the cafeteria.

"He's right." Taehyun shrugs. "Gotta try and see where it goes. You deserve to take a break and have some fun. You always work so damn hard."

"And we all know how much Seora means to you and comes first, but you gotta think about yourself, too." Yunho chuckles as he takes his last forkful and sits back in his seat.

"Thanks guys."

"Just looking out for you." Jihoon stretches. "Anyway, time to head back?"

"Yup. I gotta get ready for my next meeting." They all stand and slowly make their way out of the cafeteria, throwing their trash into the appropriate bins.

Yunho's day ends a little after 5:45pm, which is when rush hour hits. He's heading downtown to pick up the food Seora requested, making sure to place the order ahead of time so he can just pick it up and go. As expected, he hits traffic and it takes him an extra 15 minutes to get deep into downtown. It's crazy everywhere, and all Yunho can do is look forward to getting home.

seora: daddy-o i am home

seora: honey-soy glazed fried chicken and kimchi fried rice from chick'n coop pls!

seora: pls pls pls <3333 love youuu

Luckily, he's able to snag a spot in front of the restaurant. It's a 15 minute spot, so he quickly runs in and grabs the food, thanking the friendly staff before running out and getting back into the car. He's not entirely excited about the trek home in all this chaos, but he finds it worth it when he reminds himself of how happy Seora will be when he gets home with her current craving.

So, his usual 30 min drive home ends up being 45 from inner downtown with all the traffic. He parks his car out front before grabbing his things and pulling on his car handle to make sure the doors are locked. When Yunho unlocks the front door, the house is quiet but it doesn't worry him one bit because he knows exactly where Seora is. He kicks off his shoes, setting the bag of food down on the counter before placing his bag down on a dining table chair. He turns down the hallway towards Seora's room, her door slightly ajar. He gives it a few knocks before he's poking his head in, finding her deep in her books at her desk— those huge Bose headphones she asked for last Christmas sitting on her head while she works on her homework.

"Ace." She surprisingly turns her head towards the door, but it's probably because she felt her father's looming figure standing there. She smiles and shoves off her headphones, playfully jumping on her dad while he wraps his arms around her and hugs her tightly.

"You're home!" Yunho laughs as she gently hops off.

"How was school and practice?" She shrugs, walking back to her desk.

"Um, it was okay? The usual."

"Got lots of homework?" She shakes her head.

"Not really. I'm about to finish up!"

"Why don't you wrap it up so we can have dinner and watch our show together?" She chuckles.

"Okay. I'll be out in a sec." Yunho nods, shutting her door before heading out to wash up and get comfy for the evening. He heads to his room and takes a piping hot shower before completing his routine and slipping into a shirt and some flannel pajamas. He heads into the kitchen to unpack dinner, setting out the plates and utensils for him and Seora. He's not usually a stickler about these things— there are days when the two of them sit at the table and talk about everything and anything, then there's days where they'll plop onto the living room floor to eat at the coffee table and watch a show or movie. Any moment spent with Seora is a cherished moment for Yunho, and he'll never take any of it for granted;

Not when she's growing up so damn fast.

Yunho remembers when Seora was born— him and Eunha were shy over 20 years old. Young, dumb and naive; so incredibly unsure of how they'd move forward with having a child so young, how they'd make it without the support they hoped to have. Both their parents didn't think they were ready and tried to force other agendas on them, ones that didn't include being in Seora's life and Eunha was almost convinced it was the better route solely because of all the noise and talk in her ear. But, Yunho didn't want any of it at all. He wanted to be in Seora's life, he wanted to raise her, he wanted to go through life's ups and downs with her— even if that meant their parents wouldn't agree and would cut off ties.

All that mattered was Seora and Eunha.

So, they had her. Yunho and Eunha had the hardest, most challenging time trying to work to get by, all while finishing school over the years. They packed up and moved to different in-laws, renting rooms in random homes until they could afford a tiny studio to build in for awhile. They pushed through no matter how rough it got because they were both on the same page and understood the end goal: providing for Seora and being able to give her a comfortable life. Their parents weren't the happiest; hence, the disconnect between Seora and both her grandparents. When Eunha passed, her parents cut off ties completely because they claimed it was too painful to. Yunho's parents on the other hand, will see their granddaughter once in a blue moon over a quick meal. Otherwise, they send over birthday and holiday cards with extra cash wishing her the best. Yunho doesn't really have a great relationship with them anyway, and when he does manage to have dinner with them, he tries to keep it civil.

Keyword: tries.

Things changed when Seora hit 7 years old and was smart enough to pick up on their cues. She realized her grandparents didn't really wanna be a part of her life like that and that was hurtful for Yunho to see. She'd question why they weren't there to see her exceed during the sports competitions in summer camp, she'd question why they wouldn't go to her little school dance recitals. She'd question why they weren't there when she'd win Student of the Month or when they'd have fall and spring family festivals.

She questioned why they weren't there and Yunho didn't have an answer for her.

But, since they are his parents, he tries to keep that window open out of respect. In the end, he knows it would truly just be them two against the world, and that was completely fine. Yunho made it this far throughout all the trials and tribulations— he's sure he can handle anything else that comes their way.

"Yay!" Seora squeals when she comes out into the living room and plops next to her dad on the floor. "Thank you." She smiles at him and he chuckles.

"You're welcome. Good choice for dinner." She begins to plop some fried rice onto her plate, followed by pieces of the honey-soy glazed chicken wings.

"Been craving it for so long."

"You could've just asked for it." Yunho switches it to their favorite zombie apocalypse show.

"I know, but I know you have long days at work so I feel bad for asking you to stop by."

"I appreciate that." Yunho laughs. "But, I want you to know that I don't mind, okay? Just let me know and I'll make the stop."

"You really are the best." She mutters just as she takes a bite into her chicken.

"You know what we haven't done in awhile?"

"Hm?" Her eyes widen at the scene, and she lets out a small 'oh my god, run!' in between.

"We haven't gone out for our usual father/daughter dates."

"You're right." She takes a spoonful of rice into her mouth. "Can we go next weekend? I think I have a game that Saturday, but in the morning."

"Yeah, what do you wanna do?" She grabs the remote to pause the show.

"Hold on, I need to think about this." She looks up in thought. "I wanna go to the movies to catch Wicked. But, I wanna go to the theater that has the cute suites with the couches inside."

"Okay. But, let me get this straight." Yunho laughs and takes a sip of his beer. "You wanna do that with me and not your friends?"

"They're surprisingly not all that into it. We might later on, but I definitely wanna watch it with you cause I know you'll enjoy it either way." Yunho nods.

"What else? More shopping? More eating out?"

"They opened up that new dog café downtown."

"Let's go then."

"Bbq after it all?"

"Sounds like a good date to me."

"Dad, for the next-next one, we should drive somewhere or do something outdoorsy or active. Like those indoor rock climbing gyms."

"Woah." He laughs loudly. "Yeah, actually. We should. I'll start planning something for a weekend you don't have any games."

"Woohoo! Sick. Now I can beat you at rock climbing and rub it in your face." She claps and gently headbutts her dad's arm before resuming the show.

"Seora." Yunho looks over at her with a fond smile.

"Uh huh? Holy crap—" She responds to the show before quickly glancing over at him, then back to the TV. "Yeah, dad?"

"Love you." He makes it a point to always remind her because he doesn't want her to feel like she's lacking in love anywhere, despite no longer having her mother or her grandparents around. He is hoping he's enough to fill their shoes. "You know that, right?" He gently tickles her and she squeals.

"Yes! Oh my god, don't do that!" He laughs. "I love you too." Yunho sits back against the couch and fully immerses himself in dinner and the show— responding just as animatedly as Seora. They get through about four 50-min episodes, a little bit into the fifth before Seora is beginning to yawn like crazy, almost falling asleep on the opposite end of the couch.

"Ace." Yunho gently shakes her by the shoulder after pausing the show and slowly cleaning up the coffee table.

"I'm definitely not falling asleep." He snorts.

"You sure are. We'll pick this up again tomorrow. You had a long day." She sits up and yawns, stretching before she rubs at her eyes.

"Practice killed me today. Coach had us running suicides up and down the court for warm up."

"That's a good way to start practice." She nods and sleepily begins her walk off to the bathroom to brush her teeth and do her nightly routine.

"I'm off!"

"Goodnight, sleep well. Don't stay up on your phone for too long."

"I won't, I won't. Actually—" She lazily pauses and walks back to give Yunho a hug. "Night dad." He playfully squeezes her before planting a chaste kiss to the top of her head and ruffling her hair.

"Night." He watches her finally walk off to the bathroom before turning his attention to the dishes in the sink. He takes his time washing them thoroughly before wiping down the kitchen counters, the dining table and living room coffee table. He slips the leftovers into Seora's tupperware for lunch tomorrow, prepping snacks for himself and Seora to take as well.

He'll probably head to the cafeteria and buy himself something to eat.

Once he's satisfied with his cleaning, he shuts off the lights and double checks the doors before heading into his room on the opposite side of Seora's. He lets out a sigh, exhaustion fully hitting him at this time. He gets himself ready for bed, brushing his teeth and doing his final round of skincare before plopping onto his bed and turning on his own TV. He lowers the volume slightly, the TV now just giving off soft background noise to fill the void. Before he could really settle in, his phone rings— a call coming in from his other bestfriend.

"What?" Mingi scoffs hearing Yunho's greeting.

"You're such a dick, you know that?" Yunho laughs as Mingi continues to whine. "I called to check on you and that's all I get?"

"Jesus, relax. What's wrong?"

"I'm just saying! You didn't even text me back."

"Sorry, I got caught up. Work was busy today, then I stopped by to grab some food Seora's been craving. We were watching our show all night and just finished up not too long ago." Yunho briefly puts him on speaker phone to check Mingi's text.

mingi: wanna do something this weekend?

"I just asked if you wanted to do something this weekend." Yunho responds anyway, just to give him what he wants.

yunho: no

"Well, okay. It doesn't even matter anymore, why are you responding now?!" Mingi's voice turns up a pitch.

"You wanted me to text you back." Yunho laughs. "No can do anyway. I told Seora I'd take her and the girls shopping. Unless.. you wanna tag along?"

"How sweet. You want me to keep you company?"

"We can go on our own date while they shop." Mingi chuckles.

"Yeah, sure."

"What did you have in mind originally?"

"Just walking around the city or grabbing dinner. Nothing too fancy."

"What's Hwa doing? Saw him earlier but didn't really get a chance to ask."

"Hanging out with that girl he's been talking to for a two weeks and three days. What's her name? Yoori?"

"Mhm. You're oddly specific." Yunho snorts.

"I don't think it'll last, if I'm being honest." Mingi laughs.

"He's having fun."

"As with the others. Anyway. When's ace's next game?"

"The following Saturday. I gotta check the exact time, but it's an early one. Was planning to take her out afterwards."

"No invite to that?"

"No, dude. My time with my daughter." He sighs.

"I want one."

"Then stop fucking around and settle down." Yunho chuckles. "Also not just something you can want like a toy, Mingi. You know it's way more than that."

"No, I know. You and Eunha did well with Seora, seriously. You're like her bestfriend."

"That's my girl." Mingi nods to himself because he does eventually wanna settle down and have a family, but he's mainly proud of the way Yunho has gracefully tackled life despite all the ups and downs. He wasn't afraid to ask for help when he really needed it, leaning on him and Seonghwa when times were incredibly trying. Taking turns babysitting and driving the girl to and from places, helping buy groceries or cook for the two. Sometimes, Seonghwa or Mingi would offer to hang out with her for a day or so just so Yunho could get some time to himself. For the most part though, Yunho and Eunha did their best. Yunho did his best to pick himself up and carry on for the both of them after Eunha passed. He's not sure how he managed, but he did. He commends Yunho cause he isn't sure how he'd do it if he was in his place.

He hopes his bestfriend can be genuinely happy one day. Yunho says he is but Mingi knows he isn't. There's always gonna be that empty space and that void that he'll look past, and he's worried it'll be too much to bear when times get tough again. Yunho feels like he has everything being by Seora's side and Mingi doesn't doubt that at all.

Still, it must get lonely at times.

"Anyway, I'll let you be. Just wanted to check in. Tell ace I said hi and give her a big hug for me. Send me the details of her game when you can and what time you need me to be ready this weekend."

"Yeah, I will."

"Alright, peaaace." Yunho ends the call and sticks his phone onto the charger. On his nightstand is a photo of him, Eunha and Seora when Seora just turned three— they took her up to the snow so she could play around and enjoy herself. He picks up the photo and smiles as he stares at Eunha's face, truly missing her presence until this day.

That's probably the one other thing that stops him when he thinks about seriously dating again and seeing people. He knows he shouldn't compare but he can't help himself when Eunha was ripped away from his life so suddenly; all he knows is Eunha. They were always on the same page. They weren't perfect, and they sure as hell had their ups and downs. But, they both had the end goal of making it together and being the best parents Seora could have. There was that mutual understanding, that same determination and grit to push through regardless of how tough it got.

He doesn't think he could find a partner in crime like that ever again. Maybe, he just isn't destined to.

And for now, that's okay.

It's okay because he has Seora, and she is the biggest reminder, the biggest vessel of love that he needs.

For now, he thinks he's okay.

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies

214 notes · View notes

sound-of-scoups · 2 days ago

Text

Moth To A Flame | JJK & KMG | 02

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female!Reader x Kim Mingyu Genre|tags: Idol!au, series, established relationship, infidelity, lots of angst, lots of drama, smut, fluff. Word count: 10.6k Rating: Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI). Chapter warnings: Mentions of BTS hiatus and the military service (yes, it’s a warning), mentions of reader being older than Jungkook (just a couple of months), domestic af, SMUT, oral (f receiving), fingering, petnames, explicit language. If there's more, please let me know. A/N: Chapter three will probably be released at the end of december. At the moment, I’m focusing on something I think you’ll really enjoy, and I want to finish it as soon as possible, which will leave me with little time to edit chapter three. Anyway, enjoy reading! Tags: @mansaaay, @nbjch05, @nejiiiiiiii, @cherrylovescheol, @ninigyuuu, @roseki, @callmemadhatter, @rosewithlxv17, @amandatrain

Summary: Four years ago, you crossed paths with a charming member of the K-pop group Seventeen during their tour stop in Osaka. The two of you shared three intense, unforgettable days before life took you in different directions. It was painful for both of you, but you knew you couldn’t take things any further and had to say goodbye. Now, back in Seoul for good, you’re in a new relationship with another idol: Jeon Jungkook—whose charm and stability make him everything you thought you wanted. You are very much in love with him, and as your connection deepens, it feels like your life is finally falling into place. That is, until you meet one of your boyfriend’s best friends and are stunned to discover it’s the same man you fell for in Osaka all those years ago. As buried emotions resurface and secrets begin to unravel, you find yourself torn between these two men, caught in a whirlwind of love and conflict, testing the boundaries of loyalty and the choices that could change everything.

← Previous ┆ Series masterlist ┆ Next →

It was early in the morning when you found yourself in Jungkook’s kitchen with Bam at your heels, preparing breakfast for the two of you. From where you stood, you could hear the sound of water running and Jungkook’s voice belting out a perfect high note from the bathroom, filling the entire apartment.

You moved around the kitchen with ease, the familiar surrounding comforting as you scooped rice from the cooker and moved it into two bowls on the counter. Bam, ever the eager assistant, watched you closely, his thin tail wagging as he caught the scent of Jungkook’s mom's kimchi leftovers from last night when you opened the container.

“Are you hungry, Bamie?” you asked playfully, giving him a gentle scratch behind his ears. As if he understood you completely, he responded with an enthusiastic bark, making you laugh. “Just a minute, buddy.”

A whole week had passed since the night you met Jungkook’s friends, and consequently, a whole seven days since you’d last seen Mingyu. Since that night, you simply hadn't allowed yourself to think about it at all, not wanting to waste a single minute reliving his words or his reactions to your presence, or even the way your body had responded to his.

You've filled every second of your day with work and Jungkook, not giving yourself time to process the events of last week. You chose to completely bury the feelings from that night, convincing yourself that staying busy was the best way to cope.

The rush of photoshoots, meetings, and moments like this, preparing meals with Bam at your feet, the routine and domestic life with Jungkook has kept you from overthinking everything—and so far, it has been working perfectly well for you and your anxiety around the subject.

The only times your thoughts drifted back to Mingyu and that night at the restaurant were when you tried to summon the courage to tell Jungkook everything.

On the nights when you were alone in your apartment, lying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, you weighed the idea of coming clean to him, of laying everything out in the open, hoping he’d be able to understand. Yet, each time you got close to letting the truth spill out, the words seemed to vanish from your brain before they managed to escape your lips.

Maybe it was the fear of shattering the world you’d built together, losing him forever, or turning nothing into something. You just knew that whatever it was, the mere thought of losing the peace you had with Jungkook felt like more than either of you could bear. So, you let the conversation slip away and bury it once again.

But every now and then, in your quietest moments, you feared even more that the dam you’d built around your emotions might crack sooner than later. You were so afraid Mingyu would be braver than you and decide it to tell Jungkook everything, the thought simply gnawed at you, knowing you had no control over it.

So far, he has been silent. Very much different from your mind, that was still tangled with questions you didn’t feel ready to confront yet. Although, before you even could allow yourself to find the answers to them, you decided it would be better to push all the thoughts about Mingyu away.

You told yourself that whatever had happened, whatever had flickered to life in that brief moment with Mingyu that night, was insignificant. It was easier this way, to concentrate on Jungkook and your relationship, to keep your world with him simple and untouched by secrets or memories from your past.

Why risk igniting questions or insecurities over something you were convinced had no relevance in your future?

Besides, even after everything that night, you still felt no need to look back or reconsider your relationship with Jungkook. There was no reason to dwell on fleeting moments, feelings or people you had long since moved on from.

Right?

As you were setting the food on the small kitchen dining table, you could hear the gentle hiss of the shower shutting off, signaling that Jungkook was done and would join you in a couple of minutes.

You poured the freshly brewed coffee into your two usual mugs, the aroma mingling with the scent of kimchi and rice, making your stomach rumble. At the same time, Bam let out a soft whine, his eyes flicking from the bowls to you, clearly hoping for a bite.

“You’re so hungry, aren’t you?” you leaned down to kiss the dog’s head, voice shifting to the soft, affectionate baby tone reserved exclusively for him. He licked your face in response. “Yes you are, my baby.”

You got up again and made your way down the length of the pantry toward the cabinets where Bam’s food was stored. He trailed behind you eagerly, his tail wagging when picked up on what you were going to do, his excitement growing with each step you took.

Quietly, you moved around, passing neatly stacked jars and spices until you reached the right cabinet, shaking the package slightly to tease him. Bam's tail wagged furiously, another whine escaping him as he danced around your legs.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, baby,” you chuckled, crouching down to scoop out his breakfast in his bowl. The sound of kibble hitting his bowl was music to his ears, and he immediately dove in, devouring the meal like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

"Is your eomma being mean to you, Bamie?" you heard Jungkook’s voice behind you, sensing his warm presence close by. “Does appa need to punish her?”

Looking over your shoulder, you found him leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest, his abs on full display, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His dark hair was a damp mess, falling into his eyes, and yet he looked absolutely radiant, a perfect blend of boyish charm and irresistible allure. His posture was calm, peaceful, completely different from the tense one he had carried so often these past few days.

So much has been on his shoulders lately. The past few weeks had been a blur of busy days and late nights with BTS latest comeback, and though Jungkook tried his best to keep his energy up, you could sense the weight of the things he was carrying floating in the air between the two of you.

You caught the strain in those brief moments when he thought you weren’t watching, because, not so unfortunately for him, you were always watching, just as he did with you.

You noticed it in the subtle signs he couldn’t quite hide—the sadness lingering in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the rare moments when his smile didn’t quite reach those warm, sparkling doe orbs, the pauses mid-sentence as though he was carefully weighing what he could reveal to you. Everything was there and you could see it perfectly, because you knew him like the back of your hand.

You respected his need for privacy, of course, but it hurted your heart to see him bearing his struggles with the way the media was handling the news of BTS hiatus all on his own. And as if that wasn't enough, there were the on-going conversations about military service and the pressure of his up-coming solo projects.

Everything had left you wishing you could share the weight of his burdens, to let him lean on you the way he so effortlessly allowed you to lean on him.

You’d tried encouraging him to open up, reminding him he didn’t have to go through it alone. But Jungkook had a way of steering the conversation away from his worries, brushing off your concern with a gentle kiss, a reassuring smile, a quick joke, or a change of subject, as if he were trying to convince you that everything would be fine, forgetting that it was actually him who needed that reminder.

You’d never push him; you knew Jungkook well enough to know he would talk when he was ready. So, for now, you decided to keep things positive and light, to be his summer Sun, a respite from everything else in his life.

Which meant not thinking about Mingyu and not thinking about the past.

Watching Jungkook, seeing the effort he put into maintaining his usual brightness lately, you decided that this subject could wait—Jungkook's happiness was more important than anything else.

You watched as Bam, mid-chew, paused to glance between the two of you, his tail wagging in earnest now that both his favorite people were in the same room.

Jungkook walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“You know you’re just jealous because I’m his favorite,” you scoffed at him, looking down at the dog, your tone of voice shifting again. “Right, Bamie? Who’s your favorite?”

Bam barked once and rubbed his head on your legs as if confirming your statement, and Jungkook let out a dramatic groan, throwing his head back.

“Traitor,” he muttered, but you could see the way his eyes crinkled with laughter. “You like pretty girls who give you treats, huh?”

You laughed, leaning back into his embrace. “Well, if you wagged your tail like he does, maybe I’d give you treats too.”

“Careful, I just might,” he whispered into your ear, his voice low and playful. “Good morning, doll.”

“Good morning,” you replied, your smile widening as he nestled you even closer into his warmth, you both walking back to the kitchen like this. “How’d you sleep?”

His fingers slowly started to trace gentle patterns along your hips. "Perfectly, with you here,” he planted a kiss on your shoulder. “How long have you been awake?"

"Not long," you said with a shrug. “My bio clock woke me up earlier than usual, so I took the opportunity to prepare breakfast early.”

Jungkook hummed softly in response, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin as if he couldn’t bear to pull away. “Feeling anxious?”

You pouted, nodding your head. “Just a little bit.”

“How is your day looking?” he asked, brushing your hair to the side so he could rest his head on your shoulder.

"Busy,” you answered with a soft sigh, leaning into his touch. “I’ve got (G)I-DLE’s Yuqi’s photoshoot for Elle’s July issue, lunch with my brother, and later in the afternoon, that meeting with the head of Hybe’s fashion department.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, his thumb brushing lightly against your hip bone. “Wow, look at you, all busy and important,” he said, his voice dripping with playful admiration. “Did they tell you why they contacted you during the phone call?”

“No, they didn’t give much detail,” you explained, turning to face him fully and wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s neck as his immediately founding their way to your hips. “Just said it was urgent and that they’d explain everything in person. Something about a group, but I didn't quite catch it.”

Yesterday, you received a call from Hybe’s fashion department requesting a meeting with you at the company building this afternoon. You were in the middle of changing models outfits for the magazine photoshoot in a spot with poor reception, and you could barely make out what the woman on the other end was saying. All you’d understood was that it was urgent and had something to do with one of their group's demands.

The email wasn’t much more informative, simply stating that you had an interview scheduled for today with Kim Injae, the head of the department, and it left you unsure of what to expect or how to prepare for the meeting.

You watched as Jungkook tilted his head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “A group? What do you think they meant by that?”

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, a small frown forming on your face. “Maybe they want me for a collaboration or a campaign?”

He leaned back slightly, his dark eyes deep in thought. “Could be,” he murmured. Then his face lit up, a grin spreading as if he’d reached a brilliant conclusion. "Do you think they will bring you back to work with us?"

Your eyes widened at Jungkook's suggestion, and you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "Highly doubt it. We both know why I left, and I don’t think they’d want to revisit that."

It wasn't that simple, even though you wish it was. Hybe was a very strict company when it came to the line between personal relationships and professionalism. You being with Jungkook was exactly why you’d stepped away in the first place. You doubted they would give you the position back now that the lines were already blurred.

Jungkook tapped his fingers lightly against your left hip, his thoughtful gaze never leaving yours. Then he raised one hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he stared at you with a knowing look.

“Well, Soobin told me last week that TXT was looking for a new stylist. Maybe you’re it.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the suggestion. The possibility had crossed your mind, but you’d pushed it aside, not wanting to place expectations.

“I don’t know. It’s possible, I guess,” you shrugged. “I hate being left in suspense. It could be something big or it could be nothing at all."

You weren’t much of a fan of suspense, and the lack of information they’d provided was making you anxious. It wasn’t as if this was your first job interview or anything new in your field. Still, an inexplicable sense of premonition crept into your nerves, and you couldn’t quite figure out why.

Trying to shake off the unease that was building in your chest, you let out a slow breath. It didn’t make sense to be so on edge—after all, you’d been in this industry for long enough to know that these things were par for the course.

“All I know is that it’s urgent, since they stressed that they needed to see me today.”

“It’s something big, I’m sure,” Jungkook encouraged you, planting a kiss on your temple and intertwining his fingers with yours. “You’ve been killing it lately, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they wanted to work with you on something major.”

You just loved the way he was your number one fan, always encouraging you no matter what. A smile crept onto your face at his words. “You really think so?”

His expression softened. “I’m sure of it. Whatever it is, you’ve got this. You’ve done this job before, and you’re damn good at it. They’d be lucky to have you back.”

His words made you smile, easing some of the tension in your chest.

“I just wish I knew what to expect.”

“Do you want me to investigate? I'll call Namjoon hyung and—”

You laughed, cutting him off with a shake of your head. “No, absolutely not. You are not calling Namjoon to dig around for me.”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a mischievous grin. “Why not? He owes me for covering for him in the last practice.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “As tempting as that sounds, I think I can handle this on my own. Besides, the last thing I need is for them to think I’m sending you in as my spy.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, untangling your fingers to raise his hands in mock surrender. “But if you change your mind, just say the word. My investigative services are always available for you, free of charge.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You offered him a small smile, pressing your forehead against his. "And I appreciate the vote of confidence. It means a lot knowing you've got my back.”

“Baby, I’ll always be right here to celebrate your wins, no matter how big or small.” His voice was calm but firm. He squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles.

Your heart softened again at his words. "Thanks, Kook," you said quietly, meeting his gaze. "That means a lot."

"Always," he replied simply, his voice steady and sincere.

Sometimes, you wondered if leaving Hybe to preserve your relationship with Jungkook had been a terrible decision. But it was moments like this that reminded you the reason why you didn’t regret it for a single second. He would always be your choice—again and again.

“Oh, man!” he groaned, throwing his head back. “I'm going to have to warn those kids to stay the hell away from you. Yeonjun is a charmer!”

You snorted, shaking your head at Jungkook’s dramatic reaction. “Oh, please. I’ll be there to work, not to be swept off my feet by some gen z heartthrob.”

He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I’m just saying. Yeonjun’s a smooth talker, and if you’re not careful, he might try to charm his way into your good graces. I know how those guys operate. And since when do you think he's a heartthrob?"

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to poke his chest. “Are you jealous, Jeon Jungkook?”

“Me? Jealous?” He scoffed, though his ears turned a suspicious shade of pink. You couldn’t help but smile at the slight whine in his tone. “I’m just being protective. Big difference.”

“Right,” you said, drawing out the word teasingly. “Well, you don’t have to worry. I’m immune to charm when it comes to work. Plus, I already have someone way more charming than Yeonjun could ever hope to be.”

Jungkook tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

You grinned, running your fingers through his still damp hair. “This buff tattooed dude I know.”

He let out a soft laugh, pulling you closer by your waist, the heat of his bare chest warming you through the shirt you were wearing—his shirt.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. Besides, I don’t even like younger guys.”

Jungkook chuckled, eyebrows arching as his gaze sharpened with amusement. Pulling you even closer, he teased, “Oh, really? You do realize I’m four months younger than you, right?”

With a soft laugh, you brushed strands of hair from his forehead, feeling his arms tighten around you.

“The only exception."

A quiet groan escaped him as he leaned into your touch on his face, his shoulders relaxing as your fingers gently threaded through his hair, eyes slowly closing.

“Good. Because I was about to say, I’m pretty sure I’ve already ruined you for anyone else.”

You rolled your eyes again, your laughter filling the kitchen. “Cocky much?”

He smiled genuinely with his lips almost closed, only the upper front teeth showing, his cheeks pushing up and nose wrinkling a bit, making your heart squeeze in love. His eyes stayed closed, but his expression was unmistakably Jungkook, full of fondness and something so inherently him that you couldn’t help but stare, savoring every detail of his face. It was your favorite kind of smile on him.

"Well," his voice low and teasing as he lifted your left leg to hook on his hip, pressing your back to the kitchen island. “I like the idea of being the only one in your life.”

You bit your bottom lip, suppressing a smile, your heart thudding against your ribs as Jungkook’s words sent a thrill through you. His fingers tightened slightly on your thigh, holding your leg firmly against his hip, his body pressing you deeper into the counter.

You shook your head, letting your fingernails trail along his jaw. "Pretty sure you already are, you know, since I’m in love with you and everything."

He peeked at you with one eye, a playful grin tugging at his lips. Then he fully opened his eyes—those soft, doe-like eyes sparkling as his tongue teased his lip ring. His gaze lingered on yours for a moment before dropping to your lips.

“I love hearing that.”

"And you know," you murmured, tilting your head to the side, your voice breathless as your hands traveled up his chest. "I’m already yours."

His eyes darkened, a pleased smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah?” he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Guess I just like reminding you.”

Before you could respond, Jungkook’s hand found the back of your neck, his fingers threading gently through your hair as he closed the little space between you and captured your mouth in a kiss. His lips claimed yours, lifting no room for hesitation, only raw, unfiltered need. You responded instinctively, arms wrapping around his neck again as his tongue slipped between your parted lips, his mouth exploring yours with an intensity that sent heat straight through you.

The way he kissed you—like he was starving, like you were the only thing he ever craved—made your mind spin. You wanted nothing less than to be devoured by him.

Jungkook moved with purpose, hands skimming down your back until they landed on your hips, his fingers gripping with just enough pressure to pull a quiet gasp from you. In one smooth motion, he broke the kiss and lifted you, setting you onto the counter, his body fitting between your legs as if it belonged there. Now at eye level, he looked into your eyes for a heartbeat, his own dark and searching. His hands slipped under the hem of your sleeping shirt and then his mouth was on you again, trailing down your jaw to your neck, leaving a line of warm, open-mouthed kisses that made you shiver.

Your head tilted back, breath hitching as his lips continued their slow exploration down your throat. The way his fingers traced your bare skin sent a shiver through you, your nipples hardening instantly, and you could feel his smile against your neck, clearly amused by the effect he had on you.

His fingers danced just shy of where you desperately craved his touch, teasingly tracing the curve of your breasts without quite making contact. Each barely-there caress sent sparks of desire racing through your veins, and you could feel his growing hardness pressing against you, igniting something primal deep within.

Heat pooled inside you as his hands tightened around your waist, anchoring you against him. You rolled your hips instinctively, drawing a low, guttural groan from him that reverberated between your kisses and sent a throbbing ache straight to your core.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the firm planes under your fingers as you held him close. He let out a low, appreciative hum, your lips meeting again as you draw his lower lip between yours to feel the cool press of his piercing against your mouth. That was all the encouragement he needed to collide your lips completely, holding you steady as he took the kiss deeper.

His hand slid up your thighs, their warmth igniting your skin as they circled your waist before settling possessively on the soft curves of your ass. The sensation sent a thrill through you, and his hand, still resting on your ass, pulled you closer, pressing your clothed clint against the hardness of his crotch and making you moan.

“Kook, fuck…” you cursed against his lips, fingers curling into his hair, wanting him closer, wanting more.

When his fingers started to travel south, you could already feel your panties soaked and sticking to your pussy. The effect Jungkook had on you could probably be studied by experts and still, no humanly explainable answers would be found.

“Are you wet for me, doll?”

Jungkook's voice was low, a teasing edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine. You knew it was a half rhetorical question, because not much later his thumb hooked under the edge of your lacy panties and moved them aside to check it himself.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a whimper, but it only made his smirk grow wider.

“I asked you a question,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Are you wet for me?”

Slowly and deliberately, his fingers parted your slick folds, his touch both teasing and tempting. His thumb hovered over your clit, not quite touching, just lingering there, driving you wild with anticipation.

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck, yes!”

“Good girl,” he said, his tone dark and dripping with satisfaction, starting to rub your clit nice and slow. “Such an obedient little doll. Always so wet for me.”

A shiver coursed through you as his thumb circled your most sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. When his first finger slipped inside you with ease, a soft moan escaped your lips. When he added a second, stretching you just enough to make your head spin, your breath hitched, voice trembling as you moaned his name again.

“God, how are you so tight?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. His voice was low and rough. “So perfect for me. Just for me, yeah?”

Jungkook's dark eyes never left yours, watching your every reaction closely as his fingers worked you with a precision that left you breathless. He wasn’t asking you a question, he was making a statement and you knew it: you’re his and no one else.

His thumb circled your clit again in quick movements, while his fingers curled inside you, hitting just the right spot with each thrust.

“Baby,” you gasped, your voice breaking into a needy cry as he found that perfect spot deep inside you, sending a surge of ecstasy through your trembling body.

“Feels good, doll?”

“So good, Kook. Fuck!”

Your hands gripped his shoulders as ripples of bliss rolled through you. His name fell from your lips like a prayer again and again, each moan driving him further into his focused rhythm. His pace quickened, his movements more insistent as he watched every reaction your body gave him.

Your back arched, and your breath came in short gasps, the tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter, every nerve alight with anticipation. And then he stopped, pulling back just as you teetered on the edge.

A desperate whimper escaped your lips.

“Kook, what—”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing, his breath warm against your skin. “Calm down,” he murmured, his lips curving into a wicked smile. “I want to taste you. Lay down for me, baby.”

Jungkook’s command sent a rush of lust through you, leaving no room for hesitation. You leaned back against the counter, your body already trembling under his intense gaze as he dropped to his knees in front of you. His hands gripped your thighs gently but firmly, spreading them more apart as he trailed kisses along the sensitive skin.

He leaned forward, his breath ghosting over your core and you couldn’t help but gasp. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties, he pulled them down slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. The tension in the air was thick, each second stretching into an eternity as he took in the sight of you laid bare before him.

“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look like this?” he murmured, his voice and eyes thick with desire.

Before you could even respond or shy away under his gaze, his jaw parted, and his pink tongue darted out, licking a bold stripe from your entrance to your clit with deliberate, agonizing precision.

A curse and a moan escaped your lips, your body arching into his touch. Your hands slid under the oversized shirt you wore, desperate to grasp your neglected breasts, fingers tugging at your sensitive peaks.

Your image makes Jungkook’s hands tighten their grip on your thighs, pulling you closer to his eager mouth and you gasped, a surprised yelp escaping when you slid down slightly on the counter beneath you.

A breathless laugh tumbled from your parted lips but melted into a new moan as his own wrapped around your clit, sucking it hard. The cold press of his piercing against your sensitive skin sent a delicious shiver through you.

“Jungkook,” you whimpered, voice trembling. “So good, I–”

Jungkook swirled his tongue, letting you feel the precision of his attention. One of your hands tangled in his dark hair, tugging hard and making him groan, vibrating against your clit. The sensation was so overwhelming that for a moment, your breath escaped you, mind consumed entirely by the pleasure he gave you.

“You taste so sweet,” he declared against your core, his voice rough. “I could have this everyday for breakfast.”

As his finger slowly slid back into your dripping heat, his lips and tongue worked together, lapping at your clit to coax your body into pure relaxation. The pleasure was intoxicating, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rocking your hips against his face and the rhythm of his finger going in and out of you.

When his middle finger joined in, your mind dissolved into pure bliss. Jungkook’s tongue traced a sinful path again, licking you up and down, savoring every drop of your slick. He sucked greedily at your folds before returning to your bundle of nerves, flicking it just enough to make your walls clenched tightly around his fingers, drawing him deeper, your body completely at his mercy.

“Gonna cum, baby. Fuck!"

“Let go for me, doll,” he urged, his voice low and commanding.

The pressure built steadily, your body trembling as the coil in your stomach tightened, ready to snap. Jungkook seemed to sense it, his pace quickening as he focused on the spot that made you cry out, your body writhing beneath him.

His hands slid up to hold your hips in place as your body shook above him, and with one last flick of his tongue, your release finally hit, crashing over you like a wave, consuming every part of you in its intensity.

Your cries echoed through the kitchen as your body shook uncontrollably, every nerve ending alight with sensation. He held you through it, his hands firm and reassuring as he lapped up every bit of your pleasure, savoring you like you were his favorite meal.

When you finally came down from the high, he pulled back, his lips glistening and his eyes dark with satisfaction. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, leaning up to press a kiss to your inner thigh. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

Jungkook began to trail soft kisses up your belly, his lips brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your breath hitch slightly again. Your hands instinctively found their way back to his hair, your fingers threading through the dark strands, combing them carefully as his mouth continued its slow way up.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice gravelly with affection. “I love having you’re here.”

His lips were warm and soft against your skin, lingering at the curve of your waist, breath hot and comforting against your ribs as he nuzzled closer.

“I love being here,” you replied, melting into him once more.

You felt Jungkkok smiling against your skin, his hands slid up your sides, his touch firm but reverent, like he was memorizing every inch of you.

“I love mornings like this and you're so good with Bam. Having you here… it feels right,” His voice held a quiet sincerity, his gaze warm as he looked up at you. “Like this is exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, matching his tender expression. “I know what you mean. Being here feels like being home.”

You closed your eyes, fingers tightened in his hair as he kissed higher, his lips brushing just beneath your collarbone. Junkook smiled again, his hands shifting to cup your cheeks as he leaned in to capture your swollen lips again. The kiss was slow, deep, and filled with a yearning that made your heart ache.

As he pulled back, his thumb traced your jawline, his gaze searching yours. “Let’s make this our thing, every day.”

“What do you mean?”

“Move in with me.”

“Alright everyone, let’s take fifteen!”

Those were the exact words Mingyu needed to hear from Hoshi right now, causing everyone else in the room to let out groans of relief as they immediately dropped to the floor.

Mingyu himself let out a long exhale, running a hand through his damp hair, waking to a corner of the practice room and watching as the mirrors lining the wall reflected his restless expression, sweat glistening on his forehead and neck.

He grabbed a towel and dabbed it against his face, trying to catch his breath as he sat down on the wooden floor, away from the rest of the members. As usual, the room buzzed with casual chatter and the sound of sneakers scuffing against the floor as the others stretched or joked around.

Mingyu, on the other hand, remained silent, leaning against the wall with his gaze fixed on his hands, completely locked in thought. His chest heaved with fatigue, his shoulders sagging slightly.

It wasn’t just the practice that had drained him. No. The physical exhaustion was manageable, something he’d long grown accustomed to.

The problem was that no matter how much he tried to focus on the rehearsals, on the music, the choreography, the shouts of encouragement from his members, in the fact that the first show of the tour was getting closer and closer, his mind kept drifting back to you—to the silence that has been haunting him since that night a week ago.

It was exhausting.

All Mingyu wanted was to talk to you, to make sense of everything that happened since the day you parted ways at Kansai International Airport to the moment you saw each other again in that restaurant. He wanted to understand how you were suddenly back in Korea now and, most important, of all the people in the world, how you ended up becoming Jungkook’s girlfriend.

What kind of sick twisted joke was the universe trying to play on him?

He simply couldn't understand.

Additionally, you had said to him that you would think about talking, but a week had gone by, and nothing.

Seven long, torturous days, and still, his phone remained silent. Every time it buzzed with an unknown number, his heart would lurch, hoping it was you, but it never was. He didn’t even know why he expected you to try to contact him, or how that could possibly happen, since you didn’t exchange numbers.

Yet, despite everything, he still held onto the hope that you would.

So far, all he’d gotten from you was silence and it was killing him, making him absolutely restless. He hated himself for it, hated how he’d become the guy waiting around for a message that would probably never come. It was pathetic, really.

He rubbed a hand over his face, frustration gnawing at him. Part of Mingyu wanted to reach out to you first, to demand an answer, even though he wondered how he could even do that.

He didn't even know if you had told Jungkook yet. Were you planning to tell him? If you already had, how did he react? Was he angry with Mingyu now? Was he angry with you? What did it mean if you hadn’t said anything? Should he have been the one to say something to his friend?

He had so many questions swimming around in his brain and he just wanted to find answers to them.

The other part of him, however, was too afraid of what he might hear.

What if your silence was already the answer?

Mingyu rested his arms on his knees and lowered his head, letting out a bitter, quiet laugh, shaking his head as if he could somehow remove the thoughts from his mind.

Why do I even care? he thought to himself, even though he already knew the answer very well.

Goddammit.

He hated how much power you still held over him, how even now, after all this time, you had the same effect on him as you did four years ago. How he found himself stuck, unable to move past the hope that you’d reach out, that you’d say something—anything—that would prove he hadn’t been a complete fool for waiting for you to show up again all these years.

“Alright, man,” Minghao’s voice cut through his thoughts as the red haired man settled down next to him. “Spill it. What’s up with you today?”

After days of watching Mingyu zone out during practice, Minghao couldn’t hold back any longer. He’d noticed his friend's unusual restlessness during this week’s rehearsals—his gaze darting around the room, his mind clearly elsewhere. Mistake after mistake on his moves, even on the simplest parts of the choreographies, and Hoshi had been scolding him every five minutes to get things right.

It wasn’t like Mingyu to be so distracted; he usually approached every song with relentless focus, always going the extra mile to ensure every move was perfect, especially with a tour just around the corner. So, of course, something was wrong with him; Minghao just couldn’t figure out what it was.

He mimicked Mingyu’s kicked out puppy posture, looking at him with his eyebrows arched.

Mingyu glanced over, his expression caught between irritation and reluctance, but the look quickly softened when he noticed who was sitting next to him.

“What do you mean?” he asked, though his tone was more deflective than curious.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Minghao replied, nudging his friend’s shoulder with his own. “You’ve been off all week. Something’s definitely on your mind. So, what’s going on?”

Mingyu blinked, finally realizing he hadn’t masked his mood as well as he’d thought. He straightened, a faint forced smile appearing on his face as he shrugged it off. "Nothing,” he muttered, but even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. Minghao clearly wasn't buying it either.

"You’ve got that look on your face," Minghao said, waving his hand in front of Mingyu's face. "The one you get when you’re carrying something heavy. Come on, talk to me."

Mingyu let out another sigh, running a hand through his hair and wiping his face with the towel again, leaning his head back against the wall.

“Just a lot on my mind. You know how it is.”

Minghao nodded slowly, his head tilting as he watched his friend carefully. “Yeah, I do. But usually, you’re one of the members keeping the rest of us calm. What got you rattled?”

Looking away and glancing over at his members, laughing and messing around the room, Mingyu hesitated. He wanted to brush it off, to tell Minghao it was just the anxiety pre-tour, or that he was tired. But he knew Minghao better than that. His friend had an irritatingly sharp sense for when things weren't right, and Mingyu didn’t have the energy to lie anymore.

Except that he couldn't tell the truth either.

So instead, he chose to be evasive.

“Just… life stuff,” Mingyu said finally, trying to keep his tone light, though even he knew it sounded forced.

“Family stuff?” Minghao pressed. He shook his head no. “Did you fight with one of the members?”

“No.”

“Girl problems?”

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he let out a slow breath, tossing the towel onto the ground and rubbing the back of his head—why did he suddenly sound like a fifteen-year-old?

“Something like that.”

Minghao’s eyes narrowed the way they always did when he was trying to see straight through Mingyu’s defenses. He tilted his head again, studying him for a small second, then gave a small, knowing smile.

"Oh?" he faked gasped, leaning back on his hands. "You? Having girl problems?"

Pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, Mingyu groaned. “Can we not call it that?” he muttered, but even he couldn’t keep the frustration out of his voice.

Minghao just laughed softly. “Alright, alright. Let’s call it... romantic confusion. Better?”

Mingyu let out a reluctant chuckle, dropping his hands to his knees.

Ironically, it was actually the perfect way to describe his current situation.

“You make it sound like I’m a teenager, but sure, whatever.” He paused, taking a deep breath and hesitating again for just a moment before gathering courage to ask, “Have you ever had someone just… show up again in your life, out of nowhere?”

“Someone important, I’m assuming?” Minghao asked back thoughtfully, a hint of intrigue in his face.

Mingyu nodded but offered nothing more.

Then Minghao decided to venture, an amused gleam in his eyes now. “So… I’m assuming that ‘something like that’ has something to do with a girl from your past that is now back.”

Mingyu stilled, jaw clenched ever so slightly, considering whether he should even respond to it. But he was the one who had allowed the conversation to go this way in the first place, he might as well respond to Minghao's question.

He shrugged, watching his reflection in the mirror as if might offer him a better answer. “Maybe,” he finally admitted. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” Minghao chuckled slightly. “But to answer your question: no, it’s never happened to me.”

There was a pause as they both watched as Seokmin dragged Chan across the room by his legs, the rest of the members laughing to a joke they’re both unaware of. The silence stretched between them until Minghao shifted as if preparing to ask a question he’d been holding back, his curiosity far from satisfied.

Mingyu could feel the shift in Minghao’s posture, the way his friend leaned just a little closer, eyes flickering with that signature curiosity that always meant he was about to dig deeper. The background chaos of the practice room continued—Chan was now flailing dramatically while Dokyeom cackled, and the other members egged them on—but to his surprise, it all felt distant.

“Can I ask you something?” Minghao finally questioned, his tone soft but very probing. “Not related to this.

Mingyu met his gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he sensed something coming. “Go ahead.”

Minghao seemed to hesitate for just a second, his voice dropping a notch. “What really happened to that girl from Osaka? I know you said she was unattainable once, but four years it’s a long time, man.”

Mingyu exhaled, trying to mask his shocked expression, wondering why Minghao was bringing that up now—four whole years later. Though he suspected it was no one’s fault but his own. He hated how he was an open book with his feelings, and hated how easily Minghao could read him. He’d spent years avoiding this question, brushing it off whenever his friends brought it up. But now, with everything coming back so suddenly, it was getting harder to ignore.

He ran a hand through his hair again, his fingers tugging at the roots as if that might somehow pull the words out of him. “Well, for starters, she’s no longer unattainable.”

Minghao’s eyebrow arched in surprise. “Why do I sense a but coming?”

Mingyu let out a humorless laugh. “But she’s now completely off-limits.”

He hadn’t realized how much he’d been carrying until the words left his mouth, how the weight of it all felt like was pressing his chest.

Of all things, he couldn’t help but feel selfish for barely acknowledging, even after these seven days, the full weight of this fact: you were now off-limits because you were with someone he cared deeply about—someone he would never risk hurting.

He watched as Minghao studied his face for a moment, the significance of the confession settling between them. The noise of the practice room seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the tension of their conversation hanging in the air.

“What do you mean, ‘off-limits’?” Minghao asked quietly, his eyes never leaving Mingyu’s. There was a softness there, an understanding. “I thought she had disappeared.”

“She did,” Mingyu's voice was barely a whisper when he answered. “Didn’t think I’d see her again.”

Mighao watched him with a mixture of surprise and sympathy. “But now she’s back?”

Mingyu nodded, his jaw clenched.

“It’s her, isn’t it? The someone importante who’s back in your life?” When Mingyu didn’t say anything, Minghao pressed on. “What’s stopping you now?”

Mingyu swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. “She’s... she’s with someone else now. Someone who... well, let’s just say it’s not exactly someone I can compete with.”

Minghao stayed serious for a few seconds, staring at Mingyu with a contemplative expression. Then, suddenly, he burst out laughing, as if Mingyu had just told the funniest joke in the world.

“You’re bullshiting me. If anything, this someone else is the one he can’t compete with you.”

“It’s not just about competing with someone else,” Mingyu said, his voice tinged with frustration and defeat. “It’s about competing with someone I care about deeply. Someone I would never hurt. Ever.”

Someone he couldn’t hate even if he wanted to, he taught.

Minghao’s eyes widened slightly as he leaned back, his lips quirking up into a faint smile, though there was no humor in it.

“Ah,” he said simply, the weight of Mingyu’s words sinking in.

Mingyu had spent hours, days, months, and years imagining what it might be like to see you again—to touch you, hold you, kiss you, and finally ask the question that had haunted him since the day you vanished from his life. Every single one of these scenarios painted in his mind with a romanticized curiosity.

And yet, no amount of daydreaming could have prepared him for the cold, harsh nightmare of reality. When the moment finally came, it felt like he was the butt of the world’s cruelest joke. Everything he’d built up in his mind crumbled in an instant, the weight of shattered expectations burying him beneath the wreckage.

Jungkook was one of his closest friends—hell, one of his best. Their bond had been forged through years of trust and loyalty, long before the day he saw you. To Mingyu, Jungkook was more than a friend; he was practically family.

But he still couldn’t help but think that it was unfair; he had seen you first.

“Well,” Minghao’s voice broke his thoughts again. “I just don’t think you can sit there and pretend you haven’t spent the last four years waiting to see her again.”

Mingyu took a deep breath, turning his gaze away to watch the other members across the room as they bantered and laughed, feeling as though he’d just been punched in the stomach. Minghao’s words carried an honesty he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

The worst part was that there was no way you didn’t hear his friends laughing and joking at how he had spent the last four years waiting for you to come back.

And even then, a week has gone by with you in complete silence.

It was like he had been transported back to the moment he realized that no matter how much effort he put in, finding you wouldn’t be as easy as he had hoped.

He exhaled through his nose, his voice low and bitter when he finally spoke. “What good would that do, Myungho?” he muttered, his eyes still fixed on the scene in front of him but not really seeing it. “Waiting doesn’t mean anything if the outcome’s already decided.”

“Maybe not. But waiting says a lot about how much she matters to you.”

Mingyu let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head.

“And what does that matter now? She’s with someone else. End of story.” His voice cracked just slightly on the word someone, and he cursed himself for it.

Minghao’s expression softened, but there was still a sharp edge to his words. “If it were really the end of the story, you wouldn’t still be sitting here, torturing yourself over it.”

It was because, for him, it wasn’t. Not really.

Since that night in the restaurant, memories kept flooding back—flashes of laughter, stolen glances across the hotel bar, long and late night conversations in the quiet of the hotel room. He’d spent three days with you, but those moments had burned deeper than some entire relationships he had before. And then… nothing. You were gone, and he’d convinced himself he could just move on.

His silence spoke volumes to Minghao.

“So… answer my first question. What happened between you two, really? Why’d it end in the first place?”

“That's the worst part; I don’t even know, man," he started, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "She told me she was moving here and we decided we would give it a try once she was settled. But on the last day, she disappeared."

Minghao nodded slowly, waiting for more, his silence encouraging without being pushy.

Mingyu continued, his voice growing softer. “After looking for her everywhere I could, I thought... if I let her go, it’d be easier. For both of us. I mean… maybe she disappeared by her own choice, you know? I even asked Daeho hyung for help to find her at the time, isn't that ridiculous?”

He could still remember how stupid he felt when he asked their former manager for help. He felt even more embarrassed when he was scolded for focusing on things he shouldn’t have—distractions, as Daeho liked to call them—rather than focusing solely on Seventeen’s career.

Stopping for a second and closing his eyes, Mingyu let out a shaky breath, as if releasing the weight of the memory.

“But as you know, I couldn’t let it go, no matter how much I told myself to,” he laughed, but it came out hollow. “Every time I thought I was moving on, something would remind me of her. It’s pathetic, really.”

Minghao frowned, his gaze steady but kind. “It’s not pathetic, man.” He leaned forward slightly, his tone serious but gentle. “It looks like you never got any closure.”

“I didn’t. And now that she’s back…” He paused, his jaw clenching as he fought to steady his emotions. “It’s like everything I tried to bury is crashing down on me all at once.” Mingyu shook his head, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. “And the worst part? I can’t even hate her for leaving. Not when I don’t know the whole story.”

“Maybe that’s what you need, then…” Minghao said, his expression thoughtful. “ to find closure.”

Mingyu looked at him, his shoulders tense, the vulnerability in his eyes raw and unguarded. “And what if the closure doesn’t change anything? What if it just... makes it worse?”

“Then at least you’ll know. At least you’ll have an answer. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll finally be able to move forward.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” But even as he said it, the uncertainty lingered, heavy and unresolved.

His gaze swept across the room, taking in the other members, until it landed on someone he had almost overlooked: Vernon, sitting in a corner, fidgeting and lost in his own thoughts.

Mingyu already knew what was on his mind; it had been the topic of discussions all week—the possibility that his girlfriend, the latest, and now former, Seventeen main stylist, might be fired for having a personal relationship with someone she worked for.

They had been accidentally discovered by the company’s fashion department supervisor last week. Since then, the group’s stylist position had remained vacant, with only a few days left before their tour began. Vernon was just as restless as Mingyu, haunted by guilt over what had happened while the company discussed under the covers his girlfriend’s future.

Mingyu wanted to help him, but his own muddled thoughts left him incapable of offering any support.

“Look, Gyu, I know it’s a tough situation,” Minghao said gently. “But be honest with yourself. You don’t have to rush into anything, but if she really matters to you, don’t let fear, or anything else, stop you.”

For a moment, Mingyu just stared at Minghao, his friend's words hanging in the air between them. He hated how Minghao always had a way of cutting through the noise and getting straight to the heart of things.

"You don’t have to figure it out all at once, man. But don’t lie to yourself about how you feel. She’s already here, right? That’s gotta mean something.”

With that, Minghao stood up and made his way across the room, heading toward Vernon, leaving Mingyu to process alone the weight of his words in the quiet that followed.

You smoothed the fabric of your blouse again, trying to calm your nerves as you stood in the sleek conference room. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed a breathtaking view of the city, but it did little to settle your anxiety. The weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, and the buzz of your thoughts traveling back to the events of this morning only grew louder with every passing second.

You had been waiting for a few minutes, and the girl sitting at the table outside the room had already come in three times to offer you coffee. Finally, you politely accepted, hoping it would stop her from coming in and looking at you nervously.

Not that you wanted to be alone. The last thing you needed right now was to be alone with your thoughts, replaying Jungkook’s gaze when you left the kitchen this morning. But at the same time, if she wasn’t planning to start a conversation that could distract you, you didn’t want to be faced with that glazed look that would only make you anxious.

When the door clicked open again, a tall, sharp-suited woman stepped in this time, clipboard in hand. She offered you a polite smile and you immediately stood up, offering a slight bow to the woman as you returned her warm smile.

“Thank you so much for joining us on such short notice, Miss Kang,” she said as she approached you, extending her hand. “I’m Kim Injae, the head of the department.”

You shook her hand, her grip firm but not overpowering, the kind that transmitted confidence without arrogance. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kim. Thank you for having me.”

“Oh, honey, please, drop the formalities and call me Injae,” she said warmly as the two of you took your seats acroos from each other by the glass-top table. Her tone softened slightly, though her professional edge remained. “I’m sure you’re wondering why we called you here today.”

You offered another smile, folding your hands in your lap.

“The thought did cross my mind, yes,” you admitted, keeping your tone light despite the undercurrent of curiosity—and, admittedly, nervousness—that you felt.

Injae leaned forward slightly, her well-manicured hands resting elegantly on the table, as she opened the folder she brought with her. If there was one way to describe her, it would be like staring at a brunette, Korean version of Donatella Versace—elegant, sharp, and undeniably commanding.

“Well, we’ve been following your work for some time, Y/N. When Hyejin brought you in last year to work with the Bangtan Boys, we were really impressed with you,” she paused, her sharp gaze meeting yours. “We would have liked to keep you with them as their lead stylist, but given the personal circumstances between you and one of their members, we couldn’t.

Your stomach dropped slightly at her words, though you kept your expression neutral. Have you been called here to respond to a disciplinary lawsuit?

It couldn't be. Two months ago, when you deliberately decided to quit your job here so you could stay with Jungkook without having to hide your relationship, it was still a secret. The two of you only came clean when you were no longer associated with the company or BTS in an employment capacity.

And luckily for you, it was right at the time when Elle Magazine Korea offered you the position as their editorial stylist, so everything ended up working out perfectly.

Deep down, you knew that you loved working as a tour stylist and designer more than anything else, second only to your dream of designing your own clothing brand. Which is why the decision wasn’t as easy as you made it seem at the time.

“I understand,” you replied carefully, maintaining your professionalism. “It was an incredible experience, and I’m grateful for the opportunity I had.”

Injae nodded, her expression unreadable as she leafed through the pages carefully. “It’s unfortunate when personal and professional lines blur,” Then she stopped for a second, looking back at you with a smile. “But the heart wants what it wants, right?”

Her words lingered in the air, a delicate balance between acknowledgment and understanding. You felt your cheeks warm slightly but maintained your composure, offering her a polite smile in return.

"I guess so," you admitted cautiously, unsure of how much to reveal.

“That being said, I do recognize talent when I see it,” Injae said, keeping her tone steady. “and you, Y/N, are undeniably talented. Which is why we’re sitting here today.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you processed Injae's words, feeling yourself relax in the chair now that you knew you weren't being prosecuted or punished. She had a way of being direct yet warm, and her casual remark made your stomach flutter with hope.

Still, you held your composure, giving her just an appreciative smile. “I’m honored to hear that, honestly.”

“You study at Central Saint Martins, right?” she asked, fixing her glasses on the tip of the nose. You simply nodded and she continued. “That’s amazing. And not only that, I’ve gone through your resume before and I must say, your experience is impressive.”

Injae’s words washed over you, her tone carrying a mixture of admiration and curiosity that made you sit a little straighter, your head held high with humble pride. You knew exactly what your accomplishments in your chosen profession were, and no one was prouder of them than you. Still, it wasn’t every day someone showered you with compliments like this, listing them off with such genuine admiration.

So you managed another polite smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you nodded once again and she carried on, leaned forward and resting her elbows on the table.

“It’s amazing that at such a young age, you already managed to work with multiple international artists and you were even responsible for making the big brand ambassadors.”

Her words made another flush of pride rise in your chest, though you maintained your professional demeanor. “Thank you so much, Injae. I’ve been fortunate to work with some incredible teams and artists.”

“Fortunate, yes,” she agreed, “but talent and hard work don’t go unnoticed, and yours is evident.”

Injae’s sharp gaze softened just slightly, and she tapped a perfectly manicured finger on the glass table.

You inclined your head slightly in gratitude. “I’ve always believed in pushing boundaries and challenging myself. Fashion is constantly evolving, and I love being part of that evolution, creating pieces that not only reflect it but provide it to others.”

“Precisely,” Injae said, her approval evident. ”It’s why I believe you’re the perfect fit for the spot that recently appeared in our department.”

“I’m honored that you think so,” you said earnestly.

Her lips curved into a small smile, and she leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “For obvious reasons, you can't work with BTS. Which I assume you already know.”

“Yes,” you answered, almost whispering, remembering yourself to take a deep breath each time you were reminded of the consequences of your choices and the reasons you had made them in the first place.

Injae’s smile widened just a fraction, the glint of intrigue in her eyes. “But, that doesn't mean you can't work with any other group in the company.”

Your heart skipped a beat for a second, anticipation swirling inside you as her words hung in the air like a hopeful promise. You straightened in your seat once again, your fingers lightly grazing the edge of the polished table to hold yourself together from bursting with excitement over something she hadn’t even said yet.

“One of our groups recently lost their lead stylist,” she began, her tone now practical. “And we need someone with experience, creativity, and adaptability. Someone who can handle the intensity of a global tour while elevating their image and branding. In short, we want you to fill the spot.”

Your heart raced against your ribcage as her words echoed in your mind, leaving no room for doubts. The implications were clear: this could be your chance to step back into a role you’d thought you’d left behind—a role that allowed you to do what you loved most. This wasn’t just a job, it was a massive opportunity.

“Oh, wow,” you said, overwhelmed, carefully trying to keep your tone steady and not squeaky. “It means a lot to me, being recognized like this.”

Injae smiled warmly, her sharpness softening just a fraction. “You’ll be the lead stylist, which means that you’ll also be the one setting the tone, overseeing an entire team of stylists, designing the group tour outfits and getting brands to collaborate with the artists,” she explained. “It’s a leadership role, and it’ll test your ability to balance artistry with management.”

You nodded again, the gravity of her words settled over you, the enormity of this opportunity both thrilling and daunting. This was more than anything you had ever done or dreamed before.

“Their tour starts in two weeks,” she said, continuing her explanation, looking down at the pages in front of her again. “Don’t worry, though, most of the pieces are already finished, and just some of them still need to be finalized, adjusted, and selected. After that, they’ll have a month off, and you’ll have plenty of time and resources to make any changes or create whatever you feel is necessary.”

Your mind was already spinning with possibilities. Two weeks to finalize styling for a tour was tight, but it wasn’t unfamiliar territory. “It is a tight schedule. But I’ve worked under similar constraints before. I’ll make it work.”

“I had no doubt you would,” Injae replied with confidence. She closed the folder in front of her with a decisive snap, then leaned forward slightly. “That’s why you’re here. But that's not all. I’ll have my assistant email every detail and everything that will fall under your responsibility as the lead stylist. As well as the contract and an overview of the team and current wardrobe inventory.”

You nodded, your mind already spinning with anticipation and plans. “Thank you. I’ll review everything as soon as it comes through.”

She paused for a moment before continuing, her tone softening. “Y/N, I know stepping back into this world might feel like stepping back into the past actions, but I trust that you’ll use all of your experience, both personal and professional, to excel here.”

You couldn’t ignore the double meaning in her words. Though your chest tightened slightly at the thought of past entanglements, you focused on the opportunity ahead.

Besides, what were the chances of finding yourself in a situation like the one before? You were happy with Jungkook and weren’t looking for a boyfriend or anything else in that area.

As you’d said before: he was the only exception.

“Of course,” you said sincerely. “I won’t let you down.”

“Good,” Injae said simply, her tone cool and authoritative. “Because this group isn’t just any group, they’re at the peak of their careers, and the eyes of the country are on them. Your work will define part of their image, and in turn, their legacy.”

“I understand,” you replied, meeting her gaze directly. “May I ask what group we are talking about?

A hint of amusement flickering in her sharp gaze, realizing that she had forgotten the most important part. “Oh, did I not mention?” she tilted her head slightly. “Are you familiar with Seventeen?”

If you liked this feel free to let me know with a like, reblog, comment, whatever you prefer! ❤️

★ TAGLIST

133 notes · View notes

xomakara · 1 day ago

Text

The Price of Loyalty

SUMMARY | You lead a double life as an executive at the Lee Group and a Butterfly Syndicate member who must infiltrate the Brotherhood of Ateez as a stripper. As feelings for Yunho and Jongho developes, and your father's truth emerges, will you remain loyal to the Butterfly Syndicate or choose a different path?

PAIRINGS | Yunho x Reader x Jongho

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE | smut, angst, drama, Mafia AU, mafiamember!Yunho, mafiamember!Jongho, enemies to lovers

CONTENT/WARNINGS | mentions of violence/death (as goes all mafia au fics), drinking, mentions of smoking, profanity/strong language, filthy dirty thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), oral sex (both receiving/giving), fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, vaginal and anal penetration

LENGTH | 13,009 words

TAGLIST | @lovetaroandtaemin @yoonguurt

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @cromernet @wonderlandnet @k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Soooooooo… I'm trying something new lol. I'm starting a Mafiateez series and this is the first fic in the series! The other fics in the series will have the other members as main characters and each fic will tie together. The last fic will be the conclusion of the whole drama I have unfolding in my head.

Join the taglist here to be notified when I release the other fics of the series. Please be aware that this is Mature/18+ series. MDNI or you will be blocked (I will be checking)

Thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for beta-reading this! I'm glad you're invested and can't wait to read the rest of the series as they come out haha. And thank you @hobeemin for the lovely banner and the divider. As always, you never disappoint me! Please like, comment, reblog. I love you all 💚

“Byeol,” one of the girls called out as she peeked her head from the door of the dressing room. “Your regulars are here.”

At the sound of your stage name being called out, you looked up from your phone. “Okay, tell them I’ll be right out.”

The girl nodded her head, slamming the door behind her. You sighed, looking back down at your phone and typing out a reply before placing it in your purse. You stood up, checked your hair one last time in the mirror, and walked out of the room and towards the booth where your regulars waited for you every Friday night.

You waved at them when they glanced in your direction, giving them a flirty smile, and they both smirked, a smirk that told you this was going to be another good night for tips. You strutted towards them, watching how the regulars’ gazes followed your movements.

“Hello boys,” you greeted them once you had walked up to their booth. “I missed you both.”

Yunho let out a small laugh as Jongho shook his head, rolling his eyes at how silly you were being. The two of them have been a staple at the club for quite some time now and have been your major clients for about a year now. They came every Friday and it was guaranteed that they’d request your company.

“Sit with us, Byeol,” Yunho said.

You climbed onto the long seat, seating yourself between the two. When Jongho offered his hand, you placed yours in it, as he brushed his lips against the back of your knuckles. Yunho grasped your chin and pulled your face closer, capturing your lips in a deep, demanding kiss. It was nothing unusual, so you let it happen. They have paid for you for the entire night and that meant there were certain liberties they could take, certain acts they could do without any type of repercussions since they were part of the Brotherhood.

You were their favorite because you knew what they liked, what their fantasies were, and didn’t shy away from fulfilling their needs. Their desires.

You were no stranger to playing the part, but these guys... most of the girls steered clear away from them since they were members of the Brotherhood of Ateez, an elitist criminal group that controlled much of the underground and ruled with a harsh hand. Not to mention that they both possessed an intimidating air about them—something that only you seemed to ignore. You weren’t scared of anything that they had told you or could offer, and they found themselves strangely infatuated with you.

But they didn’t know that you ran the same circles.

With you, it was all part of an act. A carefully constructed narrative, a fake performance.

The owner of the strip club happened to be a powerful member of the Butterfly Syndicate, the Black Butterfly, your boss. She had placed you in the club once she found out that members of the Brotherhood of Shadows spent many a Friday and Saturday nights there, just to have a taste of some of the finest women their money could buy. And when she found out that Yunho and Jongho, two of the top members of the Brotherhood, had specifically taken a liking to you... she knew that you were the right girl for this job.

Get to know them. Get close to them, the boss had instructed you before she sent you on your way. Find out their secrets. Learn as much as you could, then bring that information to her. The boss’ ultimate plan was to end the Brotherhood’s hold over the underground. To weaken them through their leader—and get him to where the boss would swoop in to claim everything they had and possibly add it to her growing empire.

It had been almost a year since you had been tasked with the assignment. Over six months of careful flirting and flattering. And each week, you gained some sort of small tidbit that you would share with the boss, passing the info on to her. As one of the top tier members of your own syndicate, you reported directly to her, giving her the best details and intel whenever you were around the members of the Brotherhood. You tried to stay focused and give the family what it needed and nothing else—especially since you had an assignment to complete.

But still... the late nights had begun to get to you. You couldn’t stop the way your body had started to react whenever you were around them, nor how your heart skipped beats whenever Jongho brushed the pads of his fingers along the base of your spine or the way Yunho looked at you, almost like he wanted to devour you—which you could admit to yourself was a turn on.

But these men didn’t know anything about your life outside the club. Outside the realm of what they assumed was a stripper named Byeol, trying to earn some extra tips on the weekend by entertaining a couple of rich, dark, handsome men. Nothing deeper than that. No clues of the dangerous girl you really were.

A member of the rival crime family who operated out in the northern parts of the city—the main enemy of the Brotherhood, which was founded in the heart of the metropolis. The two groups didn’t mix and if Yunho and Jongho were to find out exactly who you were, it would be disastrous.

For everyone.

But at that moment, you decided not to think about anything except pleasing these two men. If you were to focus on the bigger picture, you may lose sight of what your actual job was supposed to be. Gathering intelligence and collecting info about the leader of the Brotherhood so they could use that information in a strategic takeover of the entire operation. You were ordered not to show your vicious side unless the situation really called for it. So, for now, you would just let yourself enjoy this night with them.

Because, for better or for worse, you had also grown fond of them. The lines had started to blur after a while—or had started to get so faded that you weren’t sure you could easily tell where they were anymore.

You broke the kiss and looked over at Jongho as you let him cup your cheek, brushing his thumb along the smooth surface as his dark brown eyes scanned your face. The deep rumble of laughter coming from Yunho shook you from the trance and your gaze jumped to his face. He lifted the glass in front of him and pressed it to your lips, gesturing for you to take a sip from his drink. You obliged.

The alcohol was bitter as it travelled down your throat, burning the entire way through, and you made a small face in response. Jongho chuckled quietly, tracing his thumb along the shell of your ear before taking hold of your hand again and planting kisses along each knuckle.

“You really missed us, Byeol?” He asked, his breath hot as it washed over the inside of your wrist.

“Of course I did,” you responded sweetly. “Missed your touches.”

You cuddled up against him, your hand brushing along his abdomen, slipping up underneath his shirt. You placed your lips close to his ear. “Missed seeing your cock and having my pussy stuffed full with it.”

“F-Fuck,” he gasped, turning his head in your direction, attempting to press his lips to yours.

You moved your head back slightly, giving him a seductive smirk, knowing that he loved it when you gave him a hard time. When you teased him a bit. Then you placed a chaste kiss on his pouty lips. You shifted away from him, standing up and swinging your hips as you walked over to the small table of beverages the servers always left for the booths. Pouring a glass full of amber liquid and shooting a glance at him over your shoulder. He smirked at you.

Sitting back down, you pressed the glass of liquid to his lips, and Jongho drank the beverage while keeping his stare locked on you. When he finished the drink, he grabbed the glass out of your hand and set it off to the side. You giggled as you placed a quick kiss on his forehead and another on the corner of his mouth before turning your attention to Yunho and getting into his lap, straddling him.

Your dress rode up your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist and leaned back.

“Hi, Yunho,” you whispered as he threaded his fingers into the thick strands of your hair.

“Byeol,” he uttered quietly as he leaned his head forward. He pressed soft kisses along your collarbone, the light touches making your body heat up and tingle. He nipped at the soft skin and a quiet gasp fell from your lips. “I hope you didn’t have anyone else planned for the rest of tonight.”

Shaking your head, you ran a hand through your hair. “Just you two.”

He chuckled, pulling your hips towards him as he slid down in the seat. “Perfect.”

“Should we go now?” you suggested, smirking at him. You stretched your arms over your head, knowing full well how the curve of your breasts showed in this position. “Maybe get a room somewhere...” you trailed off as his fingers ran up the sides of your legs, “or not.”

Yunho smiled and leaned over, placing a brief kiss on your lips. “Don’t get impatient. We still have the entire night, remember? And I definitely intend on making the most of our time together.”

“Plus, we know you’re used to long, difficult nights, Byeol,” Jongho teased as he pressed up against you. “We wouldn’t want to wear you out.”

Your jaw dropped a little, and you chuckled lightly.

“I can assure you,” you paused, pushing your lower body closer to his crotch, “that neither one of you can wear me out. But we should go. It would be much more fun... if we had some... privacy.”

You accentuated that last part by running your palm against the hardened outline of Yunho’s cock.

He inhaled sharply, groaning loudly before shoving a palm in his face and tilting his head backwards. Jongho bursted out into laughter beside you. You were now biting your bottom lip to contain your smile. Yunho slowly lifted his head back up. “What are we waiting for, Byeol? Jongho, make the payment so we can get the fuck out of here and finally have you all to ourselves.”

“Go get dressed and grab your stuff, Byeol,” he ordered while pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips. You slid off his lap and exited the private booth area. The two men watched your retreating form with mischievous glances.

When you were far enough away from them and back in the dressing room, you whipped out your phone from your bag. Pressing a button, you brought the phone to your ear.

“Who are you calling, Y/N?” one girl that worked with you asked.

“Just my sister,” you said as the call went through. “Hey unnie, I’m gonna have a busy night, so I probably won’t make it home for a couple hours. Don’t wait for me.”

You made a show of biting down onto your lip and shaking your head as your “older sister” spoke to you. After watching the girl leave so that she could give you some privacy, you immediately let the mask that you had displayed for the outside fall and a scowl settled on your face.

“The usual tonight. I’ll report in more detail when I’m done with them,” you whispered. The other person on the other end of the line let out a laugh and spoke one last thing. You nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

With that, the call disconnected.

Getting dressed in casual clothes, you slung your bag onto your back and rushed out of the room. The boys were outside, waiting next to the door for you. Jongho tossed his arm around your shoulders and led you through the doors and towards his car. Yunho’s hand landed low on your back, almost grabbing at the swell of your ass as he got into the vehicle as well.

It took about fifteen minutes for the guys to arrive at the hotel they typically stayed in. They usually rented one of the penthouse suites at the building located downtown, a luxurious five star establishment. However, that didn’t stop you from noting how each guy slipped a small weapon onto their person before they climbed out of the car. The men would tell you it was for their own protection, but the reality of the matter was that they had a constant target painted on their backs. With the constant threat of attack hanging over their heads, there were several assassination attempts made on their lives. You would have been ordered to end their existence and to strike them down, but you had the other assignment from the boss. You wouldn’t fail her.

The night would likely end as the nights with them previously had. With the three of you spread across the large king-size mattress in a sweaty, heaping tangle of limbs, the both of them spilling their cum inside and all over your tight, warm pussy. Or your swollen lips wrapped around the length of Yunho’s hard member until he was gasping for release, pouring his cum straight down the back of your throat as Jongho fucked you from behind. They’d do the same to you, having you come so much your thighs would shake. Their names fall out from your lips with the mantra of the filthiest curses and other words.

It wouldn’t be the first time you woke up feeling absolutely sore in the best way. And as they carried you out of their hotel room, leaving some wads of cash sitting on a table, they would certainly pay for all of those indulgent pleasures once again.

“So?”

You stood rigidly in front of your boss, hands clasped behind you as you kept your attention straight ahead. Your boss, the Black Butterfly, didn’t look like a ruthless crime lord that ran her empire out from underneath the radar. To everyone that looked upon her, she seemed to be a very caring and gracious young lady—almost the complete opposite of who she truly was. However, it was for those exact reasons why she was so successful. The double life allowed her to slip beneath people’s radars—especially from the police. She was one of the city’s most powerful figures and you admired and respected the hell out of her for that fact alone.

“Apart from your usual debauchery,” she said as she let out an airy laugh, “what did those idiots reveal to you this week?”

“Most of it was small talk. Just catching up and normal pillow talk. Talking about the usual places, some events they had to attend.” You crossed your arms over your chest, brow furrowing at the frustration that threatened to rear its head. “But there was something of interest.”

“Yes?” The Black Butterfly folded her hands together and tilted her head. She encouraged you to continue.

“Some sort of code about business they had in Japan,” you shared as you paced back and forth. “Didn’t catch the whole thing, but it has something to do with shipments being rerouted. Whatever these shipments are, they’re something extremely important.”

“Find out more.” Your boss chewed her bottom lip, her nose scrunched up slightly. “If they are planning on switching routes, we need to intercept those shipments. Just make sure you find out as much information as you can. I don’t care if you have to fuck them dry, but get that info.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you acknowledged. You spun on your heel, making to exit the room.

“Y/N,” she said, a playful smirk on her face. She rested an elbow on the desk.

“Yes?” you asked.

“You must admit. They aren’t bad looking,” she pointed out. “Kind of funny, the irony. You fucking your sworn enemies and they don’t even know it.”

Shrugging, you laughed a little. “Their cocks aren’t the worst things in the world. Doesn’t hurt to have some fun on the job.”

A look of satisfaction flashed in your boss’ eyes. “As long as the fun doesn’t distract you.”

“It never does,” you said firmly.

“And Y/N? Make sure your corporation is taken well care of,” she added on as an afterthought. Her tone was harsh and held a clear warning for you. “No mistakes, nothing suspicious. Don’t make the same mistake as your father.”

“Of course not, ma’am.” You kept your tone even, with no indication of any faltering. As a family of high-profile criminals, nothing could be traced back to your real identity, no connections or loose ends left unchecked. “No suspicions will arise. That I promise you.”

She smiled as you walked away. You quickly stepped through a door and were immediately greeted by a rush of chilly air as it blasted into the office building, making your bare arms erupt with goosebumps. As you rounded the corner, you saw a figure leaning against the brick wall. The only other occupant outside this late in the evening was smoking a cigarette, the red tip lit up as the man breathed in.

You turned on your heel, grabbing the metal railing and descending the cement stairs and ignoring the eyes that watched you walk away from him. The sounds of your heels clicking against the surface grew quieter the further you moved away and eventually became muffled, almost becoming engulfed in the noise from the city streets surrounding the office complex.

“Another successful night?” The man asked, walking alongside you as you strode down the alleyway. You both knew the path to the car like the back of your hand; your route was so ingrained into your brains, it almost came as natural as the blood coursing through your veins.

“Not any different from usual,” you replied.

“I bet,” he joked, snickering to himself. “You didn’t come home at all last night.”

You raised your arm and gave your twin brother the middle finger. “Fuck off, Jeno.”

Jeno laughed louder, his head thrown back, shaking it lightly. He held a hand over his chest as he bent forward. “I can’t worry about my twin sister? Especially since you didn’t come back to the apartment until a few hours ago.”

Rolling your eyes, you made a left and headed further into the streets where you had parked. Your brother caught up to you, throwing his arm around you. The scent of the smoke clinging to him invaded your nose.

“Seriously, Y/N,” he said.

“I said,” you stopped in your tracks and looked at him, “it’s fine. There’s nothing you need to worry about. Trust me. I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself. Plus, you know I can’t disobey direct orders.”

Jeno raised a brow. “It’s only because I respect that woman and what she has accomplished that I don’t say some shit about her and your current assignments. Because we both know the amount of time you spend between Yunho and Jongho’s legs, you’re bound to fall in love with one of them, and you know we can’t have that.”

“You don’t think I know that, Jeno?” You asked, crossing your arms and pushing him back. “If the boss is ordering me to sleep with someone and collect intel from them, then damn right I’m doing that. We’ve been through fucked up shit because of dad and after he was murdered...”

You trailed off, memories flashing across your brain. The scene you came across was ingrained in your mind.

When you both discovered his corpse, murdered, it was a day that changed you forever. It was a turning point — the catalyst. The blood and the mess that soaked the floor underneath his body... the deadness and emptiness of his eyes as they stared right up at you and your twin brother. If not for that day, you never would’ve become the stone-cold killer that you are now. Never would’ve tasted blood and pain how you had.

Never would have taken this spot in the Butterfly Syndicate, ascending to become one of the higher-ranking members that the Black Butterfly trusts with most of her assignments.

“Still,” you continued, bringing yourself out of those dark moments, “We’re only still doing all of this for him.”

“Yea,” he whispered, blinking several times before his attention fell to the ground, his hair covering his eyes. “You know dad wouldn’t have wanted us to fall in his footsteps. He always wanted us to lead normal lives and not carry all of this baggage. What do you think he would have said? Seeing us both in the middle of all of this?”

“He wouldn’t have approved,” you admitted. “We were his little babies.”

“I know that we took over the family business,” Jeno sighed as he mentioned the family business. “People would have a field day if they knew the Lee Group was a part of the Butterfly Syndicate. After all the times we were a neutral party…”

Lee Group—the major corporation run and operated out of the heart of the city — was known for being a leader within the technology and medical supply industries and for making headlines because of their incredible charity works. By day, you were the Executive Director, handling the administration aspect of the business.

However, by night... your name was something else altogether. Your day job, working with the corporation, was to ensure that the lines did not cross and that your underground affairs did not affect the legitimate business dealings of the corporation. It was also to give you both an alibi. At first, both you and Jeno had protested being included in the company, claiming that your father wanted nothing to do with the two of you having the same life that he had—constantly walking a thin line and carrying such a heavy burden. But when your father was murdered, it was clear what choice you both had to make. You would just honor his wishes and build upon everything that he had left behind—protect your family’s legacy with everything you had in you.

Even if it meant becoming a tool for the Butterfly Syndicate.

A heavy silence fell over both of you as you tried to steer your thoughts away from that memory. Turning back around, you walked a couple of steps down the road. But something stopped you.

“Hey, Y/N,” your brother said quietly from behind.

You halted mid-step, foot paused just before it connected with the ground. You turned your body slightly.

“Have you ever thought of... I mean, about your situation. With the boys?” Jeno brought his palm to the back of his neck. He rubbed it gently. “Is there any chance it’s starting to become something more? That you actually want to be with them, outside of what your assignment requires?”

“No. I... No. There isn’t. I can’t,” your voice faltered, trailing off and falling to the wind, becoming lost in the sounds of the city streets. You clenched your jaw tightly, flexing the muscles there, and tensing. Taking in a deep breath, you focused. “Who they spend the night with is Byeol, a stripper. Not me. Those guys aren’t with Y/N.”

“Besides, who’d want me when they find out the shit that I’ve done? Who’d want Y/N?” you laughed humorlessly. The tone was dripping with bitterness, every word drenched in a bitterness that only you and your brother recognized. “She’s not the one to be with.”

You whipped back around, continuing the walk, pulling the keys out and unlocking the door. Throwing the vehicle into gear and backing out, you took off towards home and hopefully a night free of the events that happened just minutes before.

Once you arrived at your apartment and settled down for the night, a text arrived on your phone. Lifting the device, a notification lit up the screen with a bright light. Your eyes scanned the text and the images attached. You let the phone drop onto the surface next to the bed with a thud and rolled over.

You should have expected that to show up. After all, these texts often did arrive unannounced. Sometimes, only on the days after you had seen the guys. Pictures and videos of the guys and you that you’ve taken throughout your sexual exploits.

This message was just a video. When the device came back on the screen, an image of you on your knees with a mouth full of dick popped up on the display. The moans that followed from the video were ones that you recalled: you begging and pleading for Yunho or Jongho to just fuck you senseless. A muffled sigh came from your own lips as you recalled the many times the two of them have fucked you hard. Fucked you raw and filled you until your stomach was swollen and a sloppy mixture of their seed dribbled out of your hole.

Rolling over again, you buried your face in your pillow. Letting your eyes flutter close, the weight of the fatigue that had lingered on your shoulders pulled you down and you drifted into the first deep sleep that you’d have in months.

It was going to be a few days until you saw them again and your schedule for the rest of this week was packed with assignments for the syndicate. Maybe, just maybe, these three days would be enough for the aching feeling between your thighs to dull just a bit.

Little did you know—it never did.

“You finished counting that batch up? It’s almost time for our meeting with the group,” Yunho announced from behind Jongho.

Jongho stretched, rolling his head and letting out a satisfying moan when his joints popped in place. Glancing to the side, his eyes fell onto Yunho as his friend straightened the sleeves to his dark jacket. The other guy was running a hand through his hair, eyes staring directly at him. His large fingers were carefully fastening the button and clasp, keeping the clothing on and preventing it from coming loose during their exchange.

“Yea,” the younger man said with a smile, his lips turning up in a wicked smile. “Count’s right, just like every other shipment. Remind me to tell San that I’m not doing the counts anymore. I’m a consigliere, not a counter.”

“I feel you. I’m the lieutenant. I’m too important to waste my time like that,” Yunho exhaled a deep breath. He reached for the half drunk bottle of amber liquid beside him and poured the remaining alcohol in the glass, shooting a generous amount of the golden, fiery liquid. Once the container was empty, he set the glass aside and wandered closer to where his friend sat, an arm thrown behind him on the couch. “Can’t wait until this week is over. All the business and meetings are driving me nuts.”

“Really now?” Jongho asked.

“The only thing that’ll make it better is Byeol on my lap when we’re done,” Yunho whispered, a grin spreading across his cheeks. He wiggled his eyebrows and the man across the couch shook his head. “Just a few more days. Can’t wait. That video you took was so hot. Just like all the other ones, it drove me fucking wild.”

“Thought you’d enjoy it, hyung,” Jongho quipped, amused. “Considering all the times we fucked her pussy raw and came all over her, the evidence of how much fun we have can only get hotter.”

They walked together, hands clasped behind their heads and fingers laced behind their skulls as they continued their stroll down the corridor. As they reached the main section of the room, the other top members of the organization were there: all wearing either suits or attire fitting of high-ranking gangsters. Yunho and Jongho made their way towards the only chairs vacant at the table.

“Now that Yunho and Jongho are here,” the boss started, fixing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “let’s proceed with the meeting.”

Everyone’s attention shifted to Kim Hongjoong, the boss who ruled over the entire faction. He commanded everyone’s loyalty and if it wasn’t given freely; it was extracted through blood, death, and violence. And those that swore loyalty to him—Hongjoong was someone to be feared and to fear for.

His power over this group allowed the money from their illegal affairs to flow with ease and plenty. Everyone who swore their allegiance reaped the benefits. And to protect the interests and to keep this business going, no expense was spared.

“Next week, the new shipment is going to arrive at a new port,” Hongjoong flipped open a map and gestured to a location marked with a red pin. “After the transaction is complete, the product will be delivered straight to the factories. Production will take place over the next month and when ready, sales can begin to take place.”

Hongjoong looked over at the men. “Seonghwa, any news on the Butterfly Syndicate? What is their movement this week?”

Seonghwa, the deceptively cold-hearted underboss of the Brotherhood of Ateez, stood up and faced the rest of the crew. “I received reports on the activity they have been up to recently. They signed contracts with the Neo Clan and Blue Melodies on some of their trade deals. Seems like they’re trying to secure a foothold in other cities.”

“The arms?” Hongjoong asked a handsome, beefy man across from him.

“Are well stocked,” Wooyoung responded as he leaned back in the chair and cracked a smile. He smiled wider, turning around to face the head of the group, almost a little too excitedly. “And if I do say so, boss, the Butterflies would love to get their hands on it.”

A chorus of laughter rumbled through the table. Several of the people that were gathered leaned against the desk or tapped the surface. One of them reached down for the case of beers by his feet, offering one to everyone present.

Hongjoong motioned to continue the conversation. “Any issues with our operations? Anything we need to take care of?”

“It was slow on the usual drug routes,” Mingi said, “but everything else is smooth. All other trades are solid.”

The discussion continued for a few minutes more. Just about the regular operations of the faction and their enterprise. In total, the group would discuss for a few hours on topics that ranged from the security of the newest weapons on their roster to the details on the business of their trade and finally—the recent rumors about their rival organizations.

“Yunho. Jongho,” San started. He pointed his finger from left to right. “Are ya’ll still seeing that stripper?”

“We are,” Yunho crossed his ankle over the opposite knee and shrugged. He wiggled his eyebrows a bit and threw his arms over the back of his chair. “She’s a feisty one, if you get my meaning.”

“I don’t think I need to know what you guys get up to,” Yeosang had a drink perched against the corner of his lips and took a long, deep pull of the drink before setting it down. “Don’t need all the disgusting, dirty details.”

“Wait till he sees this, though,” Jongho dug into his pants and pulled out his phone, flipping through it until he found the image. He passed it towards his hyung.

“Damn,” Yeosang whistled softly. He handed the cell back to the younger and clapped once, rising from his seat. “But I am curious, you know. This girl... never mind.”

“Spit it out, hyung,” Jongho chirped playfully. The cheeky guy leaned forward and grinned, his pearly whites showing. “We all wanna know.”

“It’s just weird, you know?” Yeosang began. “After you two are with this girl, somehow the Butterfly Syndicate always seems to have an idea of where to locate us.”

“Are you saying,” Jongho moved to his seat slowly, folding his arms over his broad chest, his arms pushing his pectorals tighter together, “this girl has anything to do with it?”

“I’m not saying she’s a snitch,” Yeosang’s voice was steady and firm. He looked over his shoulder before letting out a small whisper. “All I’m saying is they seem to get an idea on how to sniff out the next deal, the next shipment. It seems odd, considering she is just a random strip club dancer and your usual nighttime flings.”

“It’s alright Yeosang,” Hongjoong assured. “She may be a strip club dancer, but she’s more than that.”

“Sir?” Seonghwa asked.

“She’s more than you know,” the boss continued, fixing a black-and-white striped suit sleeve and tightening the cufflink against the fabric. “The question is if she’ll switch sides.”

“I’m lost,” Mingi frowned.

“This stripper is Lee Wooseok’s daughter,” Hongjoong uttered, closing his eyes in an attempt to find the words. “And she’s a high-ranking member of the Butterfly Syndicate.”

“Lee Wooseok? As in the Lee Group?” San asked, Hongjoong nodding his head.

A sudden shift ran through the air. The once tense atmosphere became a void of complete silence and it seemed as if the surrounding time had also stopped moving.

“If that’s the case,” Seonghwa trailed off, “if we can convert her over and gain her loyalties, it would mean the biggest gain. The one they would never expect.”

Wooyoung clicked his tongue. He leaned back against the chair, eyeing the other guys. “Think it could work? If Yunho and Jongho fuck her brain cells away?”

“There’s no need for that,” Hongjoong softly laughed. “Mingi, please go and escort Lee Wooseok to headquarters. I’m sure his children would be more than pleased to see him again.”

Mingi got up from the desk, the scrape of the chair’s legs loud against the flooring. “On it, sir.”

“Yunho. Jongho. Since you have grown close to the woman, I would like for the two of you to help with our discussion.” Hongjoong slowly glanced over his shoulder to the giant mirror in the office.

Behind the looking glass, two sets of eyes were fixed onto him. With a clear throat, he continued to talk to the rest of his men and the orders that needed to be followed.

“What the fuck?” your voice was loud and hysterical. “What the actual fuck!?”

You threw the documents onto the coffee table and grabbed your phone. It felt heavy in your trembling hand and you took in a deep, shaky breath.

Jeno’s footsteps could be heard in the next room over. They thudded against the ground and came running towards you. He peeked in the room, glancing in to see what had you acting all crazy this early in the morning. His face turned into a grimace as he walked closer, catching sight of what you were clutching tightly.

“They know Jeno,” you whispered. “The Brotherhood knows. This was shoved under our front door. Someone slid it underneath the door last night.”

Your twin brother came over and opened the papers. It was a black-and-white photo of you dressed in your business suit and high heels, leaving the Lee Group’s main building in the heart of downtown. Your face was in focus, crystal clear. Not an inch or speck was covered up, providing a full, unobstructed view. And the bold text on the back of the photo read: “Who knew a stripper would be an executive at a legitimate business?”

“I also got this text on my burner phone from Yunho.” You handed your brother the burner you used to keep in contact with the guys. The cell phone screen glowed in the dim lighting and displayed the message.

“Let’s meet up in front of Lee Group’s building at noon.”

“How much do you want to bet it’s an ambush? This doesn’t feel right,” Jeno sighed and raked a hand through his dark, ruffled hair. His voice was hoarse and scratchy, groaning from his sleep. He shrugged. “No other way to know. Just go to the spot and meet them. They won’t do anything in broad daylight and in front of a legitimate business in the heart of downtown.”

“You better be right,” you said as you rose from the couch and made way to your room to get changed and prepare to venture out for the day.

“I will be,” Jeno said.

“Just have our guys stand ready. If shit hits the fan,” your eyes darkened and your stare darkened as the emotion seeping through your tone was chilling and ominous, “do what you need to do. I’ll take the blame for anything if I need to.”

The remainder of the morning consisted of a quick change in clothes, grabbing an early, small snack for the day and rushing over to the destination to meet with the two men. Leaving a little earlier, you planned your route and decided the best and fastest path to take. After arriving at the front doors to the Lee Group’s building, you scanned the area. People walking about their day-to-day lives; their hands busy holding shopping bags or on phones or shoved in their coat pockets. Nothing too unusual or out of place.

No one was suspicious at all.

As you checked the time on your watch, footsteps approaching, muffled and heavy, against the pavement could be heard. You turned and caught the pair of broad shoulders as the owners of the feet appeared from around the corner.

“So this is what our pretty Byeol looks like when she’s dressed and ready for work,” Yunho hummed softly when they stepped right up to the side of you. You felt yourself being watched—scanned over from top to bottom. He even let out an appreciative whistle.

Jongho stretched his lips upwards into a devilishly attractive smile. His mouth fell apart. “Well fuck, babe, if you looked this nice dressed like this every day, I’d come and pick you up to drive you here myself.”

“Please tell me that the two of you didn’t call me out in the middle of my day for your sappy pickup lines,” you deadpanned as you crossed your arms and rolled your eyes. “What do you want?”

“Are we just going to talk in front of your company’s main doors like this?” Yunho asked, scratching the base of his skull, glancing at Jongho. He flicked his wrist in the air, gesturing. “Don’t want any problems or issues.”

“Fine,” you breathed out a deep sigh that you didn’t know that you were holding in. “Try anything funny and I will take both of you out faster than you can even blink.”

“Feisty,” Jongho grinned as he followed you. “Where was this firecracker when we fucked? She never came out during our time in the bedroom.”

You ignored him as you turned on your heel, the sounds of your high heels clicking against the cement as you walked towards the front lobby. Walking into the building, you hear a chorus of greetings from the employees of the company going about their workday. Many people were standing about and chattering excitedly, happy that the weather was looking sunny today and most likely would stay for the remainder of the afternoon.

“Didn’t know that you were a respectable member of society,” Yunho mused, still surveying the facility and observing his environment, letting the information sink in. “Working corporate and dressed to impress. Looks like Byeol has been holding back a lot more secrets than we think.”

The three of you arrived in your office and you closed the blinds. Pulling down the shades on the glass, blocking the view to and from inside, you spun around to face the men, who sat in the two seats in the room.

Jongho looked relaxed. His left leg was swung over his knee and his arms rested behind him, creating a bulging mass of muscle against his frame. Yunho seemed to be a lot less relaxed. He was studying you more closely. Every last facial gesture, expression and twitch were not unnoticed.

“So Byeol, if that is your real name, who are you exactly?” Yunho asked cooly as he narrowed his gaze at you. His jaw was set tight, lips pursed together, pressed hard in a tight line. “From what we can tell, you’re not just some high-class stripper.”

“Why don’t you tell us who you are instead?” Jongho sat straighter as he propped his ankle onto his knee and watched you pace around the office, pausing to stand before a painting or picture on the wall. “Now that we think about it, there are so many things we still haven’t figured out about you.”

“Lee Y/N,” you mutter. “My name is Lee Y/N.”

“Well Y/N, explain all of this,” he gestured towards the scenery behind him. “This life.”

“Why?” You sank into your office chair, staring at him. “So the Brotherhood can kill me just like you did my father?”

“What?” Jongho snapped his head straight, attention turning towards you. “The fuck you talking about?”

“Don’t you guys dare act stupid and pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about,” you growled and scowled at the two. “I’ve known for years about the Brotherhood of Ateez and you know everything about the Lee Group. You had Lee Wooseok, my father, killed!”

“No,” Yunho shook his head. He stated firmly, his eyes shifting over to his friend. Both of them stood up from the chairs. “I would remember if we had a hit on Lee Wooseok.”

“Forgive me for not believing your crap!” You exclaimed. You gripped the armrests of the seat tighter until your knuckles had turned white, digging into the fabric.

“Hold the fuck on,” Jongho pulled out the phone and punched a few keys on the screen. Bringing it up to his ear, he placed a call. His eyes darted up and down the length of the entire space of the room, to the walls, to the ceiling, to your direction. He flipped around and spoke low, just low enough for the other party to understand the context of his request. His eyes settled directly on you as Jongho was quiet, taking in the information on the other end. “I understand. We’ll be there shortly.”

“We are having a discussion tonight with our group about what you’ve said,” he clenched and relaxed his jaw a few times and relaxed the muscles around his neck. “They want you and your brother to join and talk to us as we try to sort everything out.”

“And what if it’s a trap?” You eyed both of them. “If I turn up there, your leader’s number one hitter will have an easy shot and take me out.”

“No one will touch you. You have my word. And his,” Yunho reassured.

You stayed silent for a few beats. Eyes falling shut, you nodded and allowed your pupils to flutter open.

“If anything happens, I’ll wipe you out myself,” you shifted your gaze from the one across from you, over to your current boy toy, nodding firmly. “When and where?”

“Now,” Yunho said as he shifted himself up out of his seat and headed towards the exit. “Tell your brother.”

Although Jeno wanted to beat up the two men that stood beside you, you insisted and told him that it wasn’t the time to engage, not yet, at least. There wasn’t enough proof or information. You both needed to know more, needed to learn as much as you could to piece things together and conclude on your next move.

Upon reaching the Brotherhood’s headquarters, your brother was appraising the surroundings, calculating potential escape routes and thinking up plans in case things became unfavorable. You knew that expression very well: his lips were pressed tight, frowning, and his dark brows were pushed close to each other. He was clearly displeased and upset. You knew he wanted blood, but there was nothing he could do until you gave the go ahead.

“In there,” Yunho said, pushing the heavy oak door leading to the chamber where the rest were waiting.

All eyes were on you. With your brother at your side, your lips pursed tightly and eyes darkened. You straightened up and stepped forward with purposeful strides. No signs of weakness. Not anymore.

“Welcome, Mr. Lee. Miss Lee.” The young head of the organization greeted. Hongjoong glanced at you before standing up and coming over to you, grabbing onto your hand and shaking it firmly. His hand released its hold and gestured for everyone in the room to take their seats. Once everyone reclaimed their spots in their places on the long, hardwood table, the head started. “Don’t worry. No one will touch you here.”

“Look, you can save your pleasantries and get to the point,” Jeno sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Just explain what is going on.”

“My father and yours were good friends,” Hongjoong continued, leaning forwards to prop his arms on the surface in front of him. “Yes, the Lee Group remained neutral and was a valuable source of intel in our wars and territory. However, your family also has another value, don’t you see?”

Your brother looked at the gang boss questioningly.

“Lee Wooseok was an entrepreneur that loved his family deeply. Very deeply,” Hongjoong elaborated further. The leader’s lips tilted upwards and turned into a small smile. “The old man was someone who truly wanted a safe life for the two of you. He would never have wanted you two to follow the path of his and our lives.”

“What are you...” You started.

Hongjoong continued, nodding at Wooyoung as the rookie moved to grab the file he held tucked under his arm. The brown folder slid across the hardwood table until it rested in your lap. He spoke the words that would change your world. “Your father’s alive.”

Your head lifted up.

“What?” Jeno inquired, a confused expression clouding his features. “But we saw his corpse.”

Hongjoong nodded. “That was a cover-up by us, the Brotherhood. Your father knew that he had a hit on him, so he devised a plan: faking his death and staying hidden, lying in low profile.”

“For the last ten years?” You gasped, fingers grazing the edge of the brown folder. You couldn’t move. No strength in your body remained to flip the front open.

“Yes,” Hongjoong spoke as he took his seat again. His eyes gleamed and danced, something reflecting. “Open the file.”

The papers rustled. There was an image paper-clipped to the corner and the minute your eyes fell upon the visage, your throat tightened, caught in a hard lump as a few droplets formed. The moment you touched them, the tears clung to your fingers, and you swore your heart stopped.

You whispered and breathed, “Dad.”

Your father was still handsome. His hair was greying and strands had streaks of grey in it. And his eyes had aged, those old eyes with crinkles, showcasing his joy, his sorrow. But it was him. Lee Wooseok was truly alive, and it felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

It had been ages since you felt this, a warm sensation filling your chest cavity. You had never felt lighter—liberated—from these invisible shackles.

After a quick scan through the photos and reports in the envelope, you flipped the manila folder closed and latched the cover shut. You sighed as your brows furrowed. “When can I meet him?”

“Business first,” Hongjoong said as he watched your reaction closely.

“What kind of business?” Jeno asked, brows knitting.

“You joined the Butterfly Syndicate because they told you that we were the ones behind your father’s death,” Hongjoong explained. “Told you that we were the ones responsible and promised to help get revenge?”

“Yes,” you nodded in affirmation.

“They tricked you. The Butterflies are the ones behind Lee Wooseok’s hit.”

“Wait a minute,” the younger twin furrowed his brows. He was shocked at hearing the words from the leader’s own lips and a cold sweat broke through, coating his skin. “Are you sure it’s the Butterflies that did this? How?”

“Your father can tell you the details when you finally reunite,” the leader stated, voice firm and resolute, leaving little doubt in the statement. “Since you are both high-ranked members of the Butterfly Syndicate, you would have important information and intel on the trade deals and such.”

“So,” your eyes locked into place with his. “You want me to continue working on this and supply you with the necessary intelligence, right? So you can infiltrate the organization? Are you saying that the Lee’s can help the Brotherhood take them down and bring them to its fall? If that’s your goal, I have no issues with it.”

“My father always hated that company, so I hate them even more,” Jeno said, running a hand through his short hair. His arms crossed over his wide chest. “You’ll offer us protection and help? The Butterflies aren’t going to let this go if we defect.”

“Oh we know,” Hongjoong smirked back. “But the Brotherhood can ensure your protection and safety from their wrath. No one will lay a hand on either of you two.”

“Jeno?” You looked at your twin brother.

“Can we...meet our dad first?” He asked carefully as his eyes met yours and flicked towards Hongjoong, questioning. “And after that, we can discuss?”

Hongjoong nodded and, with a small nod, one man got up and stepped out. A few seconds later, a familiar figure filled the room with his presence, strolling in with a grin and twinkling eyes. The moment your eyes landed on the individual, tears began to form again.

“Dad,” you choked out before springing up and crossing the room to leap at him. Tackling him with a hug, you found yourself burying your nose deep into his collar and breathing him in. “Dad!”

Jeno was at your side, piling on with an embrace. His eyes screwed shut and squeezed out the water. Your father clutched the two of you tightly and wrapped you both in a bear hug. The man sniffled before laughing warmly and softly.

“My babies aren’t babies anymore.” He released his hold on the pair of you. Hands coming to cup both of your cheeks, his thumb brushed away the tears clinging to the surfaces of your eyelids. “My children, I missed you so much.”

With your father returned and the reunion complete, all matters were settled and agreed. It would take a few days, but your loyalties had changed to the Brotherhood, and you would supply what they needed.

This meeting ended successfully for both sides, but things could only be set in motion and could not be changed now that the ball had been set in motion.

The Brotherhood had offered you and Jeno places to stay since the Butterfly Syndicate knew where your residence was. In their words, it would be unwise and stupid to return after switching sides, especially with the secrets you now carried. However, with no way and money or anything other than a duffel bag for the both of you, you had no other options. You agreed with Hongjoong’s statements and, for now, would reside in the guest rooms in their house.

One night, Yunho and Jongho invited you to their penthouse suite that they lived in, minutes away from headquarters. Standing at their door, the heat rose from your abdomen and heated your chest as you hesitated before finally gathering enough courage to give the knock and let them know of your presence. Hearing the footsteps, the shuffle of shoes on the tile floor could be heard from the other end, causing your muscles to stiffen as anticipation and nervousness dripped through your veins like thick, poisonous venom.

The lock clicked. Then the knob turned. It gave way as the door cracked and opened up. The tall, broad, dark-haired man appeared in the opening. “Come in,” he said, gesturing for you to enter. You nodded as the greeting and stepped past.

“Get here okay?” Yunho leaned his entire body against the surface of the front entrance. A quizzical expression washed over his face. His arms were folded, his shoulder blades squaring the breadth and strength of his torso.

“Yeah. Seonghwa dropped me off,” you looked around the suite and noticed Jongho gesturing at you to join him on the couch.

“Now sit down,” Jongho settled on the couch and popped open a can of beer, offering you one. You shook your head. “Y/N, you look so fucking stressed right now. Chill.”

“It’s just a lot right now,” you sighed as your shoulders drooped. Head hanging low, eyes cast downward, you could feel his body heat grow as his feet brought his long legs closer and closer towards your form.

“A lot happened and you just need to relax. De-stress,” his hand came to lift your chin.

“He has a point,” Yunho chipped in, standing behind you from your spot on the couch. His long fingers and firm hands danced along the collar of your blouse, flicking open one button and exposing some flesh. The shirt hung slightly off your shoulders, enough to give a small tease.

Your breath hitched. Yunho’s fingers were grazing along the line of your bra strap, running his thumbs across the silky smooth material. A sigh slipped through your lips and a slight shiver rolled from your toes and up, coursing through your legs.

“I know,” your voice came out weak as the heat stirred in the pit of your stomach, heating between your thighs. “It’s just... learning that dad was alive this whole time, being tricked by the Syndicate. I just hate myself so much and feel like an idiot.”

“Yeah. It’s an enormous shock,” Jongho said. “But at least you know the truth and that you got your father back.”

“He’s alive, and he’s well,” Yunho hummed softly. You tilted your head back, making contact with the solid frame of the large, dark-haired guy standing behind you. And fuck was he towering.

Yunho chuckled, placing a passionate kiss onto your neck, trailing them across your collar bones and then diving right back up. He held the column of your throat between his forefinger and his thumb. “So pretty.”

“I do wonder though...” Jongho tucked a strand of hair behind your ears. He tilted your face upwards so he could look directly into your eyes. He peered deeper. “Did you actually enjoy the sex? Was it just part of the job and mission to collect intel on us?”

“Be honest,” Yunho spoke up. He had started moving again. His chest was rising and falling slowly. “Do you have even an ounce of feelings for us?”

“It started out that way,” you bit the inner walls of your cheek and chose your words carefully. “Fucking you for intel... My loyalty to the Butterfly Syndicate was strong. But as the days turned to weeks, the nights continued, the conversations in the bed... they shifted. I really enjoyed talking and more so... just being with you guys.”

You leaned into Jongho’s palm, gazing up into the other man’s face. You pressed a delicate, sincere kiss in the middle of his wide hand. “You two made it impossible to not have any sort of attachment.”

Yunho’s palms skimmed over your thighs, massaging gently. Fingers nimbly toyed, tapping against your muscles. There were tiny sparks firing off, the reaction caused the butterflies that were sleeping in your belly to stir awake. The insects roused, taking flight and they fluttered, wings rapidly flapping.

“Would it ease the guilt and uneasiness that you feel,” Yunho’s expression turned thoughtful as his eyes bore into you, looking into the depths, “if we let you know that the feeling is mutual, sweet girl?”

Jongho caressed your cheek before slipping his arm and wrapped it around your waist. He nuzzled his nose, nipping at your ear lobe. “It’s not the ideal situation for any of us, but regardless, we genuinely liked hanging out and fucking around.”

Jongho tapped his fingertips on your shoulder blades. A few low chuckles escaped him. His next sentence flowed slowly, lingering around you like a faint, heavy fog. “Fuck the Butterfly Syndicate’s plans, yeah?”

Yunho trailed a finger between the valley of your breasts and stopped teasing. A brief smirk showed itself for a split second. His features were relaxed, as if the whole discussion wasn’t about destroying and eliminating entire syndicates and you weren’t the key component to the entire puzzle and destruction.

Yunho’s palm returned to your cheek as his fingers hooked under your chin. His thumb rubbed your lower lip as his voice dropped, quiet, but firm. “Tonight, let’s just forget that we’re anything else. No more underworld agenda. We’re just three people that are enjoying each other’s bodies, right?”

“No expectations,” Jongho whispered, grazing your lip against the pad of his thumb.

“No pretense,” Yunho smirked.

The pair’s hands slipped beneath your clothing and lifted it off. Piece by piece, the material came loose and discarded somewhere in the penthouse suite. Soft pants escaped your lungs. And with a satisfied exhale, Jongho tipped your chin, smothering his lips against yours, the smooth cushions melding against your skin. His tongue ran against the opening, his taste buds swirling the seams. A hand stroked the outline of your neck and cupped the tender surface.

“Let go of every worry that is plaguing your pretty little head tonight, darling,” Yunho whispered softly against the space behind your ear. You whimpered when his mouth parted, sucking and pressing the curve of his full bottom lip. “Leave the world, the fears, the worries, the obligations, the past, everything outside these doors, because right now, sweetheart, it’s just going to be me and Jongho taking care of you. Can you be a good girl for us?”

Another whine slipped from your parted lips and into the space between.

“Yeah. That’s it. Good girl,” the sound of approval rumbled against the flat plain of your back, reverberating as a heat settled in. “Just focus on making yourself feel good.”

A hot mouth connected to your collarbones, mouthing, leaving behind wet imprints and soft trails with a nip. It didn’t take long for it to move and track up your jawline, pressing against the column and taking a few licks along your throat.

Two sets of mouths connected to each section of bare skin and their touch lit a fire under your skin. Two more sets of hands skimmed, fingers pinching, rolling and twirling the hard buds on your nipples. A set of warm, plump lips latched onto one and gave it a harsh suck, a groan escaping as their taste buds rolled it, teasingly nibbling on the sensitive tip.

“Y/N,” Yunho’s masculine voice purred your name like velvet, his warm, calloused palms dancing a trail, a series of tingles being left behind and lingering. “How do you want it? Slow or do you want rough? Or maybe you want both? Yeah, I think you want both. We’re willing to do anything you want.”

Jongho looked straight into your eyes, making eye contact, piercing your soul through with his beautiful dark eyes. “After all, we can give it all to you.”

Dropping his pants, Yunho stood up from the sofa. “Open up for me, pretty girl.”

You did as he instructed and felt the press of the thick head pushing against your lips, waiting. His hands were on either side of your face, thumbs trailing the edges. “Wrap your pretty little lips on my cock and take all of it, darling.”

A hum of arousal and lust slipped between your parted lips as your hands slid across his trim hips. Yunho’s fingers sank into the messy locks as you rolled and flicked your tongue along the hardened head and smoothed the ridge. “Fuck. Yeah.”

He tugged you close, so his erection was deep inside. The thick shaft filled your mouth, pressing against your cheek, gagging. Your head bobbed, the saliva pooling around and staining your mouth. Tongue gliding up the surface as you flattened the muscle.

“I’m going to have you on your knees more often. This view is incredible. Damn. Perfect,” he hissed between his teeth, exhaling a large breath. “Eyes up at me, angel.”

You didn’t even know when Jongho laid on the floor, his face settled under you. Large palms spread across your ass and down your thighs, pulling your center right over his mouth. Lashes flickered as his thick tongue dipped deep. In an instant, you moaned around Yunho.

“Tastes good, doesn’t it, little one?” Yunho asked. You nodded, murmuring an “mmhm” around his cock. “His tongue is amazing, isn’t it? So amazing at working you out, hm?”

Jongho swirled and flicked the slick muscle, finding the swollen nub and latched his mouth, sucking and releasing repeatedly. Another deep groan sounded. It didn’t take long before you squirmed, grinding your pussy on Jongho’s mouth, whimpering around Yunho.

“Ah, so damn delicious,” a smirk crossed Jongho’s lips. “Juicy and so hot, I could eat out this little pussy all night.”

A brush of a finger on your anus and a slippery digit pushed inside as another penetrated your dripping slit.

“Such a pretty cunt,” Jongho sounded amused, and the praise mixed in with the string of vulgar words was enough to light a fire and a wetness under your core.

“God, your noises are fucking exquisite,” Yunho’s palms skated to your face, hooking a few stray strands behind your ears. His thumb toyed with your lower lip and swiped along the corner.“Tell me how you're feeling, sweet girl.”

His cock fell from your lips. You wrapped a hand around the girth and stared up into his brown orbs, blowing a hot, ragged breath. “Good. So damn fucking good.”

“Tell Jongho how it is, angel,” a simple command. “He wants to know.”

“Don’t stop,” you demanded breathlessly. The room was spinning. But you were far from caring. You were rocking against his digits and the motions as your forehead rested on Yunho’s thigh. A roll of a thrust, a quick stretch of his knuckles. “Just fucking make me cum on your lips and your fingers, fucker. Please.”

“Mmmm...yeah. Keep asking nicely like that, pretty girl,” the pads of his digits were curling. There was a chuckle as you heard the sound of his sloppy slurping, followed by a lewd, sloppy smack. “Your cunt is gripping me tight. Come undone already and soak my face, sugar. Stop fighting and cum like the slut that you are.”

“Sweetheart, your mouth,” Yunho cooed softly. “Open it again for me.”

With half lidded, glossed eyes, you met Yunho’s gaze before you obediently did so and received the thick weight back on the hot cavern. He laced the strands between his fingers.

“Ah,” the softest chuckle fell as the corners of his pinkish lips pulled upwards. “Swallow all of it. This is what you deserve for being a good girl. I’ll reward you. Promise.”

Yunho held your chin still, palm resting under it, steadying your movements and the angle and guiding the movements. His own lips parted, grunting at the sensation. Fingers thrusted with a gentle force and curled once again, finding the spongy part and rubbing as the pad flicked.

“Are you about to come undone, sweet girl?” Jongho shushed softly, with a light whisper against the inner parts of your thighs, pressing a kiss there. His face was nuzzling there, dragging his open mouth along your heated skin. “Don’t hold back. I know your pretty little pussy can give me more to drink.”

“Such a good girl.” Yunho thumbed across the sides of your face and caressed it gently. He gripped his shaft and pumped the shaft a couple times. The liquid beading on the head of his cock swirled on the tongue, a deep moan as he tasted himself. “Such a pretty fucking mouth. Take your reward, darling. Every single last drop.”

Hands gripped tightly and tugged on the locks of hair. He held you firmly in place. Cursing, Yunho’s muscles quivered. You massaged the head with the flat surface of your tongue and let the liquid spill and spill inside your hot mouth. You let your tongue caress his length, catching every single drop, all the while Jongho thrusted his hand, curled his fingers and used his mouth and tongue to push you over the edge.

The orgasm rolled through, taking over your body. You held on to Yunho, hands reaching for the exposed parts of his upper body, desperate for stability as your hips bucked erratically, uncontrollably and rode out your high on his hand and lips. Your mind was screaming and your eyes rolled to the back of your skull. There was no other thought process going on except, yes, yes, yes.

Yunho crouched in front of you and caught you as you toppled forward.

“Come on, baby girl,” you whined against the hard surface of his body, “we’re just getting started, sugar. You’re doing good.”

Picking you up, Yunho tossed you easily onto the bed, like you weighed nothing. It wasn’t rough, but it was a motion that said that they were in control. Jongho walked into your peripheral vision, stark naked and looking gorgeous. His body was gorgeous. How someone had the physique, the hard work, and discipline.

A groan ripped from your lips as Jongho climbed onto the sheets beside you and nudged your hips. “Straddle me, sugar. My dick can’t wait anymore and neither can I.”

Your pussy lips grazed the length and his head teased and pressed against your clit as you rotate your hips and rolled your spine. Hands pressed on the planes of Jongho’s hard, sculpted pecs, gripping the rigid muscles. Leaning forward, you put one hand on his stomach to steady yourself and, with the other, you gripped his base and slid down onto the shaft in one quick motion.

You met his gaze and whispered huskily, “Neither can I.”

Both hands pressed firmly against the abdominal muscles and leaned back. Spine arched, head resting against the mattress, you rode Jongho as Yunho settled himself between your legs behind you.

“Such a nice pussy. The view is perfect,” planting his palm in the center of your chest and over your breast, Yunho captured your lips with his. Nipping the underside of the curve and peppering a few kisses there. Palms groping and kneading the globe as a thumb grazed a pert nipple. “Can you take me too, sweet thing? Let me fill your ass as you ride our boy here?”

“Yes please, sir.” Your mind was dazed and in pure ecstasy. And Yunho took care to make you feel good.

Yunho shifted your weight until you were face down into Jongho’s neck and shoulder, Jongho’s muscled arms wrapping protectively around you. “You’re going to need to hang onto Jongho, doll. You’re going to need him while I fill that beautiful ass.” His fingertip trailed a line starting from the space right below your neck and to where the spine ended.

Your pelvis ground onto Jongho’s as his hands cradled you and held you tight to his body. It wasn’t as if you had never had anal sex before with the two of them. No, not at all. You had done it plenty of times, more so with Jongho since Yunho was well, packing some size and there was only so much you could handle.

It didn’t take long before you heard the lid click and the bottle pop open. You felt the lube drip, cool and slick, between your round ass cheeks and down the valley to where both men were filling your openings. Yunho took his sweet, slow, torturous time, teasing you with the head of his cock, parting and spreading the cheeks and running the length between. You turned your head slightly to watch him over your shoulder and sighed in relief and content when his girth finally penetrated your walls.

With one palm gripping your waist, fingers splayed, Yunho guided his thick cock further. With the other hand, he soothed a firm hand up your back, the weight feeling relaxing and calming your nerves, reassuring that you were okay. The curve of his body dipped down, allowing his mouth to reach and capture your lips, sucking, nibbling.

“Fuck, baby. Your ass takes me so well, damn it,” he breathed, tugging your hair, releasing, letting it fall as his teeth caught his full bottom lip. “Gonna fill you so much until your body can’t handle it anymore.”

“So full...” Your face burrowed in the space between Jongho’s shoulders, against the dip as his own neck. Your palms pressed against his chest, fingertips grasping at his warm, sweaty skin. “Need a second...to adjust.”

“We gotcha, sweetheart,” Yunho placed a gentle kiss along your spine, not moving yet. He helped the angle by keeping you bent over Jongho. “Relax. We’re right here.”

You felt the slight burning and fullness. Once the stretching was complete, you were okay. Lifting your lower half up, the movement caused your pussy to slide onto Jongho, and that immediately did the trick. Once it started, Yunho filled your asshole up completely.

The action made the men groan at the feeling. Their pleasure at having both your holes filled was evident.

“Move, move, move,” you breathed roughly, clawing Jongho’s pectoral muscles as you reached your mouth up to find his and a tongue quickly found entrance. They found their rhythm. The sound of slaps and sticky, squishy sounds filled the air.

“Atta girl,” Yunho mumbled a mixture of praise. He grunted and fisted a clump of your hair, tugging your face back until your chest arched out. “Yeah, this is what you wanted, is it? Talk to us, pretty girl.”

“Love having you guys stuffing me,” you gasped when Yunho pumped in, forcing your back to arch even more. A stream of whimpers were heard, almost like a song playing repeatedly. The friction was just too damn delicious. “Both of you are stretching and fucking me. Please. I’m yours. Both of you.”

The praise continued, getting louder and dirty.

“I need you guys to keep pounding into me,” you were chanting like a mantra. “Wreck my pretty holes. Pound me as I cum on your fat, massive cocks.”

“And we love giving it to you, angel. Filling you with us until you’re spilling all over,” Yunho mumbled his words directly at the shell of your ear. “Over and over. Until we fill up every single damn part.”

Jongho was meeting your hips, pumping at the same pace and speed as Yunho. There was no room to slide in between the pair. The pair was stuffed into both of your crevices and hitting all the right spots that drove you mad; the tingling became a raging heat.

“Close,” a muffled noise fell, breaking from your throat. Your mouth was parted, the lips dried and swollen.

“Be a good girl and come on our cocks,” Jongho pressed a chaste, close mouth peck against your cheek and murmured in a sultry voice. “Soak it, baby. Do it now.”

And you did exactly that.

Your mind turned white with only one name being thought repeatedly, with no other thing being thought about. All you heard were the satisfied groans of the men that were taking their pleasure in your body. Their bodies jerked with their orgasms as both Yunho and Jongho poured everything into your pussy and into your ass.

You swore you saw heaven, bliss, whatever word would describe a paradise or utopia. And fuck, it felt so amazing, so damn glorious. You were in bliss as you felt the warmness from the men. Their lips were tracing lines down your neck as the rest of your body went limp against them. They whispered words of encouragement, whispers of getting married, but it sounded so far away.

Your eyes slipped shut, not sure how many seconds later, maybe a handful, and fell into a deep slumber.

With the combination of sunlight filtering through the sheer drapes and your eyes opening, there was a groan as you attempted to rub the tiredness away with the back of your hand. And regret was the very first thought. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. You never fell asleep when having sex with the two men. That wasn’t something you’d normally do.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Trying to get up, your body aching from head to toe, you found yourself incapable. Bare and still feeling so sticky, a sheet was tangled around your body as two male forms were under the same piece of material and trapped between their limbs, an arm and a leg secured in their grips.

In a low tone, it was nearly a murmur, but deep and rough, Yunho spoke, pressing a kiss against your exposed, heated collarbones.

“Too sore, baby girl?” You met his brown eyes and bit your lip, nodding slowly, followed by a confirming hum. “Did you sleep well?”

“I... yeah... I guess. Wasn’t supposed to...” you stuttered a little, not quite finishing the sentence and dropping your gaze, embarrassed. “I never fall asleep...”

Yunho gently gripped your chin and gave you a proper good morning kiss on the lips, deepening it slightly before pulling away and ending it. A palm trailed your side and smoothed across the naked skin. “First time for everything, hm?”

Jongho stirred and mumbled groggily from somewhere underneath the blanket and an arm rested right above your breast, “Don’t leave the bed. We’ll do everything. Breakfast, bath, the lot. But stay in bed and rest.”

Your cheeks heated. This was awkward. Normally, the two men wouldn’t want you lingering and getting comfortable because business always called, and they both had an obligation to attend.

“About that,” Yunho mused and shifted onto the mattress. He curled around your form and had you resting your head against his arm, fingers skating patterns and tracing lines against the dip at your waist, drawing invisible lines. “We were going to talk about it.”

“Jongho and I were thinking...” Yunho nudged, glancing towards the young man and began chewing the bottom lip. “That after...”

He was hesitating. You didn’t quite understand why. He wasn’t the type of person to get nervous.

“What happens afterwards?” Yunho asked. “How would you feel, staying in bed, staying the weekend, or the week, and having us... taking care of you?”

Your eyes widened and glanced towards both men. “Are you sure? What would my dad say?”

Jongho gave a low grunt, nuzzling between your shoulders, lifting his head, and peppered a small, fleeting kiss. “Nothing. He would be thrilled that we were giving you whatever you need.”

“I don’t have my clothes. Nothing with me,” your breathing hitched.

“Don’t worry, angel, we have you covered. We’ll get you whatever you want,” Yunho remarked softly. He scooted in closer and intertwined his free hand, his left, with yours. There was a shine, a metal circling on his ring finger. A quick look downwards and Jongho had the same on him, matching the band of gold with his.

Both Yunho and Jongho didn’t have it before. Where did they get these?

Then you noticed the glint on your left ring finger. Gold with small diamonds set in a thin band and a black gem in the middle.

Your head shot right back upward and back and forth between the two men.

Yunho said it the next, a chuckle, soft, genuine, lacing his deep, melodic, soothing tone. “You didn’t say no when we asked you last night.”

You shook your head furiously. You hadn’t even heard. Too caught up in your high. “I wasn’t in... wasn’t in the right state of mind last night.”

“Willing to agree now?” The smile was playful and warm, softening Jongho’s face. The tone was teasing but hopeful. His thumb brushed against the warm, soft skin on your own.

Yunho leaned in closer, warm breath dusting over the surface of your lips, nose dragging across the top of yours, “Not the way we were dreaming of asking you officially.”

“As a married throuple, you’ll have two husbands that will help you fight against the Butterfly Syndicate, sweetheart.” His mouth slid over yours, swallowing a moan, and it was loving, and deep, and all-consuming, making your toes curl into the soft comforter under your bodies. He slowly eased his body weight on top of you as he took over and set a leisure and slow pace of languid strokes. “Husbands to keep you safe, husbands to always satisfy and fulfill any need. Husbands to get back at your enemies.”

Your mouth was still locked against his, Yunho’s tongue licking deep. You pressed your forehead against his temple and his hand slid even lower.

“So what do you say, hm?” Jongho lifted his head slightly to whisper, a glint dancing in the brown pools. “Can we officially call you our wife?”

Widening your eyes, you searched and met the gazes of both men and felt their hands clutching yours, almost scared that you would say no.

How could you say no when their hands and body made you feel like a queen, a woman adored and protected? A soft gasp spilled. How could you say no when their dark, cold eyes promised to bring your vengeance against those that hurt you and your family? You didn’t need to hold back when you were with them and in their care.

“Yes...” You turned and faced each of them. You would do this, together, with them. You swallowed your fears. “Let's get married.”

You were going to fight back. You were done hiding and turning away, hiding in the shadows.

81 notes · View notes

scarletwinterxx · 1 day ago

Text

ddaddu series #1 - choi seungcheol dadverse au

hellooo ~ i said i think a week ago i wrote a new dad fic... and yes it's w the one and the only choi seungcheol😅 he's just screaaams dad girl so here we are. this is definetely one of longest i've written in a while. I was up all night and it took a few days to finish all of this so i hope you like it! and let me know if i should make more....

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

(pic not mine, credits to rightful owner)

Seungcheol burst through your front door, not even bothering to knock, looking slightly frazzled and out of breath. You were sitting on the living room floor with Areum, helping her color in a princess-themed coloring book, when he made his dramatic entrance.

"What's going on?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as Areum looked up, wide-eyed at her dad's sudden arrival.

"Daddy!" Areum exclaimed, abandoning her crayons and running over to hug him. He scooped her up with a brief smile but quickly turned his attention to you.

"I need your help," he said, his voice low and urgent.

You blinked, confused by his tone. "Help with what? Are you in trouble?"

"Yes," he replied immediately, setting Areum back down and stepping closer to you. "Big trouble. The boys are trying to set me up on a blind date, and I need an alibi."

"So, let me get this straight. Your *big trouble* is a blind date?" you stared at him for a moment, your lips twitching as you try not to laugh

"It's not funny," he protested, running a hand through his hair "Jeonghan and Joshua have been hounding me about it for weeks, and now they've gone and actually arranged something. They told the girl I was available. *Available!* Can you believe that?"

"Well..." you started, unable to keep the teasing tone out of your voice. "You *are* technically available, Seungcheol. You're single, remember?"

He narrowed his eyes at you, clearly unamused. "That's not the point. I don't want to go."

"Then just say no?" you suggested, shrugging

"They won’t take no for an answer! They’ll guilt-trip me into going somehow. You know how they are." He sighed, flopping onto your couch like a man defeated. "That's why I need you to help me. Pretend I’m busy. Say we’ve got plans. Something—anything—to get me out of this."

"And why would I do that?" confused, you ask him

"Because..." He paused, looking genuinely desperate now. "You’re my only hope."

Before you could respond, Areum piped up, her little voice curious. "Daddy, what's a 'blind date'?"

Seungcheol winced, glancing at you for help. You smirked, not about to let him off the hook that easily. "Oh, it's when someone goes out with a stranger to see if they like each other," you explained casually. "Your dad's friends think he needs a girlfriend."

Areum's eyes went wide. "A girlfriend? But Daddy doesn't need a girlfriend. He has Mommy!"

Both you and Seungcheol froze at her innocent declaration, and then your cheeks flushed. You quickly looked away, focusing on the coloring book in front of you.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, seemed to perk up at Areum’s words.

"See?" he said, pointing at her as if she'd just made his case. "Even Areum agrees. I don’t need a girlfriend." as if his five year old's daughter is the only thing making sense right now.

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.

"Fine," you relented. "What exactly do you want me to say to get you out of this?"

"Anything!" he said quickly, leaning forward. "Just tell them we’re doing something together this weekend. A family thing. They'll back off if they think I'm spending time with you and Areum."

"You're so dramatic," you muttered, shaking your head. "But okay, I'll help you. This time."

"Thank you. You’re a lifesaver." he grinned, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

"Yeah, yeah," you said, waving him off. "But you owe me for this."

"Deal," he said without hesitation, standing up and pulling Areum into his arms. "You hear that, princess? Daddy’s off the hook, thanks to Mommy."

Areum giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You're silly, Daddy."

Seungcheol laughed, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Yeah, I am. But don’t tell uncle Jeonghan and uncle Joshua that, okay? It’s our little secret."

As he left your apartment, looking far more relaxed than when he’d arrived, you couldn’t help but shake your head at the whole situation. Seungcheol, despite all his bravado, could be such a dork sometimes.

Still, there was a small, unexpected warmth in your chest as you watched him leave. Even after everything, he always seemed to find his way back to you. No matter what excuse he needed to make it happen.

Later that evening, Seungcheol was sitting at home, blissfully unaware that his “alibi” plan was about to backfire. He had just finished putting Areum to bed when his phone buzzed on the coffee table. Picking it up, he saw Jeonghan’s name on the screen.

He answered with a suspicious, “Hello?”

“You sneaky little liar,” Jeonghan’s voice greeted him, half-amused and half-accusing. “You could’ve just said no, you know.”

Seungcheol’s stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?”

“*What am I talking about?* Oh, just the fact that we got a call from *her.*” Jeonghan’s emphasis on the word *her* was enough to make Seungcheol’s heart skip a beat.

“Her?” Seungcheol played dumb, even though he knew exactly who Jeonghan meant.

“Your lovely *ex-wife,*” Jeonghan said, clearly enjoying this. “She called to tell us you’re busy this weekend because you’re spending time with her and Areum. Ring any bells?”

Seungcheol groaned, rubbing his face. “She wasn’t supposed to actually call you! She was just supposed to tell me to tell you—”

“Well, she called anyway,” Jeonghan interrupted, snickering. “And let me just say, it was a very enlightening conversation. Joshua and I were on speakerphone with her, by the way.”

“Oh, great,” Seungcheol muttered, already dreading what was coming next

“She sounded so sweet, too,” Joshua chimed in, suddenly joining the call. “Told us you’d be having a family day. Said you were a great dad and how nice it was that you prioritized Areum.”

“I am a great dad,” Seungcheol defended, even though he knew where this was going

“And then,” Jeonghan continued, his voice dripping with mischief, “she thanked us for ‘understanding.’ Understanding *what,* Seungcheol? That you’re still hopelessly hung up on her?”

“I’m not hung up on her!” Seungcheol snapped, though his face was burning

“Oh, please,” Jeonghan said, laughing now. “You *ran* to her to avoid going on a blind date. If that doesn’t scream ‘still in love with my ex,’ I don’t know what does.”

“It’s not like that,” Seungcheol argued, even though he could hear how weak his own defense sounded

“Then what’s it like?” Joshua asked innocently, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer

Seungcheol sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I didn’t want to go on the date, and it was the only way I could think of okay? That’s all it was.”

“Sure,” Jeonghan said, drawing the word out. “And the fact that you still wear your wedding ring sometimes doesn’t mean anything either, right?”

“I don’t—” Seungcheol started to protest, but Joshua cut him off.

“And the fact that you’re always making excuses to hang out with her and Areum? Totally not suspicious.”

“Or how about how you still call her whenever something important happens?” Jeonghan added. “Like that time you got promoted, and the *first* person you told wasn’t us, but *her.*”

“Okay, enough!” Seungcheol snapped, though he couldn’t deny any of it. He slumped back on the couch, glaring at the ceiling. “You two are insufferable.”

“Maybe,” Jeonghan said, clearly enjoying this. “But we’re not wrong, are we?”

There was a long pause, and for once, Seungcheol didn’t have a quick comeback. Instead, he muttered, “I’m hanging up now,” and ended the call before they could say anything else.

As he set his phone down, Seungcheol sighed heavily. He hated how well Jeonghan and Joshua knew him. Hated how they could see right through him, even when he tried to deny it.

But most of all, he hated that they were right. Because no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise, he wasn’t over you.

Not even close.

The next weekend, Seungcheol found himself being herded into a bar by Jeonghan, Joshua, and a few other friends. He hadn’t wanted to come, he’d rather be home with Areum or even by himself but Jeonghan had been persistent, and Seungcheol didn’t have the energy to argue.

“Come on, Cheol,” Jeonghan said, throwing an arm around his shoulders as they walked inside. “You’ve been way too uptight lately. A night out is exactly what you need.”

Seungcheol grunted in response, scanning the bar. It was packed with people, the music loud enough to make casual conversation impossible. He could already feel the headache forming.

“I’ll get us a table,” Joshua said, disappearing into the crowd

As they settled into a corner booth, Jeonghan smirked and gestured toward a group of women near the bar. “What about them? Think any of them would catch your eye, Cheol?”

Seungcheol shot him a glare. “Not interested.”

“Oh, come on,” Jeonghan teased. “You can’t stay hung up on—”

“I said I’m not interested,” Seungcheol interrupted, his tone sharper than he intended

Jeonghan raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to bite my head off.”

But Jeonghan being Jeonghan, he didn’t let it drop. When the women eventually came over, clearly encouraged by Jeonghan and Joshua, Seungcheol’s discomfort was palpable

“Hi,” one of the women said, flashing him a bright smile. “I’m Hyejin. And you are?”

“Not interested,” Seungcheol muttered, taking a sip of his drink without meeting her gaze.

Her smile faltered, but she didn’t give up. “Oh, come on. You’re way too handsome to be sitting here brooding all night.”

Joshua tried to suppress a laugh while Jeonghan nudged him under the table, grinning like the devil himself.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Seungcheol said, still avoiding eye contact.

“Don’t mind him,” Jeonghan said, ever the instigator. “He’s just shy.”

Seungcheol glared at Jeonghan. “I’m not shy.”

“Then talk to her,” Jeonghan challenged, a mischievous glint in his eye

“I don’t want to,” Seungcheol snapped, standing up abruptly. “I’m getting some air.”

As he walked away, Jeonghan burst into laughter. “I swear, he’s worse than a teenager with a crush.”

Outside, Seungcheol leaned against the cool brick wall, letting out a heavy sigh. He didn’t know why he’d let the guys drag him out in the first place. This wasn’t his scene anymore.

He pulled out his phone and instinctively opened your messages. There was a picture you’d sent earlier that day of Areum holding up a crayon drawing of the two of you with her in the middle. She’d written “My Famly” in bright, messy letters at the top.

He smiled to himself, his thumb hovering over the call button.

Before he could make a decision, the door to the bar opened, and Joshua stepped outside, a knowing look on his face. “Thought I’d find you out here.”

“Not in the mood,” Seungcheol muttered, putting his phone away.

Joshua leaned against the wall next to him, crossing his arms. “You know, Jeonghan’s just messing with you. He knows you’re still into her.”

“I’m not—”

“Cheol.” Joshua cut him off with a pointed look. “We’ve known you for years. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Seungcheol sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. We’re divorced. She’s moved on.”

“Has she?” Joshua asked, raising an eyebrow

That made Seungcheol pause. “What do you mean?”

“She’s not exactly going on dates, is she?” Joshua pointed out. “And last I checked, she’s still wearing your ring.”

Seungcheol frowned, his chest tightening at the thought. He’d noticed it, of course. How could he not? But he hadn’t dared to hope it meant anything.

“Look, man,” Joshua said, clapping him on the shoulder. “If you still love her and I know you do you’ve got to stop acting like it’s too late. Because if you keep sitting on the sidelines, someone else *will* come along eventually. And you won’t have anyone to blame but yourself.”

With that, Joshua turned and went back inside, leaving Seungcheol alone with his thoughts.

And for the first time in a long while, those thoughts were filled with hope.

Seungcheol sighed and adjusted his jacket as he made his way back inside. Maybe if he stayed near the bar’s edge, the persistent group would lose interest. But as soon as he returned to the booth, Hyejin, the overly determined woman, lit up like he was her jackpot.

“There you are,” she said, patting the empty seat beside her. “I thought you might’ve run off.”

Seungcheol stayed standing, crossing his arms. “Just needed air.”

“Well, now that you’re back, let’s make this night a little more fun, huh?” She reached for his arm, but he took a step back

“I’m good,” he said flatly

But Hyejin clearly wasn’t one to give up easily.

“Oh, come on. One drink. What’s the harm?”

Jeonghan and Joshua, meanwhile, were watching the scene unfold like it was the best drama of the year. Joshua even had the audacity to take a sip of his beer and mutter, “This is going to be good.”

Seungcheol shot them both a glare before turning back to Hyejin. He’d had enough of the games.

“Look,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “I’m flattered, really. But I’m not interested. I have someone else.”

Her smile faltered. “Oh? You’re married?”

He didn’t hesitate reaching for the gold chain tucked under his shirt, there hangs his wedding ring. The date and your initials engraved on the inside. He let it dangle in the dim light, the small circle gleaming like a quiet promise.

“Divorced,” he clarified, “but that doesn’t mean I’m available.”

Hyejin blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “You’re divorced, but you’re still...?”

“I’m still in love with my ex-wife,” Seungcheol said plainly, his voice steady. “And we have a daughter together. Her name is Areum. She’s five, loves soccer, and thinks I can fix anything—even when I can’t.”

Jeonghan and Joshua exchanged wide-eyed glances, the playful smirks slipping from their faces.

“Whoa,” Jeonghan muttered under his breath. “He went there.”

Seungcheol ignored them, keeping his focus on Hyejin. “So, no offense, but I’m not looking for anything. My family is my priority. Always.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before Hyejin finally nodded, clearly caught off guard. “I see. Well... good for you, I guess. It’s rare to meet someone so dedicated.”

With that, she stood up, mumbling something about grabbing another drink, and walked away.

The second she was out of earshot, Jeonghan burst into laughter. “Oh, my God. Cheol, that was...”

“I’ve never seen someone so politely crush someone’s hopes like that.” Joshua shook his head, though he was smiling

“I’m not joking,” Seungcheol said, slipping the ring and chain back under his shirt

Jeonghan grinned, leaning across the table. “We know you’re not. That’s what makes it so entertaining. You’re still head over heels for her, aren’t you?”

Seungcheol sighed, sinking into the booth. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Nope,” Jeonghan said, popping the “p.” “This is exactly the time to do it. Because you just told a complete stranger that you’re still in love with your ex-wife. Out loud. In public.”

“And in front of witnesses,” Joshua added, smirking

Seungcheol groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Why do I even hang out with you two?”

“Because we’re the only ones who can call you out on your nonsense,” Jeonghan said, patting him on the back. “And honestly, Cheol, it’s about time you stopped hiding it.”

“Stopped hiding what?” Seungcheol muttered.

“That you want her back,” Joshua said simply.

Seungcheol didn’t respond, his thoughts too tangled with the truth of their words. He didn’t need to admit it—they already knew.

And deep down, so did he.

The hum of the car engine fills the silence between you and Seungcheol. The road stretches endlessly, flanked by towering trees that seem to lean in, listening to the quiet tension between you. In the backseat, Areum is a bundle of energy, her stuffed rabbit tucked securely under one arm as she hums a made-up tune. Her legs swing back and forth, her excitement barely contained.

“Are we there yet?” she chirps for the third time in an hour

“Almost, sweetheart,” Seungcheol answers, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

You glance at him from the passenger seat, noting how his hands grip the steering wheel, veins faintly visible under his tan skin. He looks good—too good. His hair, slightly longer than when you last saw him, falls over his forehead, and his jawline is as sharp as ever.

You force yourself to look away, instead focusing on the scenery outside, even though it does little to distract you from the weight of his presence.

“You excited, Areum?” you ask

“I’m soooo excited!” she exclaims, throwing her hands into the air. “Mommy, Daddy, we’re going to have so much fun! Just like old times!”

Your heart clenches at her words. You glance at Seungcheol again, catching the way his lips press into a thin line. He doesn’t say anything, but the moment hangs heavily between you.

The cabin is perfect. Nestled by a serene lake, it’s surrounded by tall pines that sway gently in the breeze. The wooden exterior glows warmly in the afternoon sunlight, and Areum bounces with excitement as soon as you step out of the car.

“Look, Mommy! A swing!” she squeals, racing toward the porch where a rustic wooden swing creaks invitingly.

Seungcheol opens the trunk and starts unloading the bags. You hesitate for a moment before grabbing Areum’s smaller suitcase and following him inside.

Areum darts around, exploring every nook and cranny, while you and Seungcheol silently divvy up tasks. You find yourself in the kitchen, unpacking snacks and prepping a quick lunch.

The clatter of utensils is the only sound until Seungcheol walks in, his sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that shouldn’t still affect you the way they do.

“Need help?” he asks

“I’ve got it,” you reply curtly, not looking up

He doesn’t leave. Instead, he leans against the counter, watching you as you slice fruit. The tension is suffocating, and you’re about to tell him to either help or leave when Areum bursts in

“Daddy! Come help me unpack my toys!” she demands, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door

He follows her willingly, but not before casting one last look your way A look that lingers too long and says too much.

After dinner, Areum insists on roasting marshmallows by the firepit outside. The three of you gather under the clear night sky, the flames crackling and sending up occasional sparks. Areum’s laughter fills the air as she holds her marshmallow too close to the fire, causing it to catch alight.

“Help, Daddy!” she shrieks, holding the stick out.

Seungcheol chuckles, taking it from her and expertly blowing out the flames. “There. Perfectly charred,” he declares, handing it back to her.

You watch as he wipes a smudge of chocolate from her cheek, his expression soft and full of love. The sight twists something inside you, and you have to look away.

When your eyes meet his across the fire, his gaze is steady, searching, as if he’s trying to read your mind.

Areum’s birthday breakfast is a chaotic mix of pancakes, whipped cream, and sprinkles. She insists on wearing her birthday crown all day, and Seungcheol dutifully bows every time she walks by, calling her “Princess Areum.”

When it’s time for cake, she claps her hands excitedly as you light the candles. “Okay, sweetie, make a wish,” you say, kneeling beside her.

She closes her eyes, her expression scrunching up in concentration. Then, with a triumphant shout, she declares, “I wish for a sibling!”

Your breath catches, and you glance at Seungcheol, who looks just as stunned. Areum blows out the candles in one go, her face lighting up with joy. “Now it has to come true!” she exclaims, completely oblivious to the tension between you and her father.

The morning sun glitters on the lake’s surface, and Areum races ahead, her bright pink swimsuit standing out against the greens and blues of nature. She shrieks with delight as her toes touch the cold water, kicking up little splashes.

“Come on, Mommy! Daddy!” she calls, waving her arms.

You hesitate at the shoreline, adjusting your cover-up nervously. Seungcheol, on the other hand, wades in without hesitation, his muscular frame cutting through the water as he lifts Areum into his arms. She giggles as he spins her around, droplets flying everywhere.

“Scared of a little water?” he teases, glancing back at you with a smirk.

You roll your eyes but step in, letting the icy water creep up your legs. Areum swims over to you, her small hands grasping yours.

“Let’s play! All of us!” she exclaims.

She drags you toward Seungcheol, who’s treading water a few feet away. The three of you end up playing a makeshift game of tag, and for a moment, it feels almost normal almost like the three of you are a family again.

Later, when Areum insists on building sandcastles by the shore, you sit side by side with Seungcheol, the silence between you no longer quite as heavy.

“She really loves this,” he says, watching Areum with a fond smile.

“She’s been looking forward to it for weeks,” you admit, fiddling with a piece of grass. “She wanted it to be perfect.”

He glances at you. “I think it is.”

After Areum falls asleep, the cabin feels too quiet. You find yourself on the porch, staring out at the dark lake. The sound of footsteps behind you makes you tense, but you don’t turn around. You know it’s him.

“She really surprised us today,” Seungcheol says, leaning against the railing beside you

“That’s Areum,” you reply softly, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Always full of surprises.”

There’s a pause before he speaks again. “She’s a lot like you.”

You glance at him, caught off guard. His gaze is steady, filled with something you can’t quite name. “You don’t have to say that,” you mumble

“I mean it,” he says, his voice low. “You’re both stubborn, and you never give up on what you want.”

The words hang between you, and before you can think, he takes a step closer. “I know I messed up,” he says, his tone almost pleading. “But being here… it reminds me of what we had. What we could still have.”

“Cheol…” you start, but he silences you with a gentle touch on your arm.

“I’m not asking for everything right now,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “But tell me… do you feel it too? Even a little?”

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you close the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that feels like both a question and an answer. It’s slow, deliberate, and filled with the weight of everything left unsaid.

For the first time in years, you let yourself hope.

The kiss deepens, but it isn’t hurried. It feels more like rediscovering something familiar yet distant. Seungcheol’s hand finds the curve of your waist, grounding you, while the other gently brushes your cheek.

For a fleeting moment, the years of heartbreak, resentment, and missed chances seem to melt away, leaving just the two of you under the starlit sky.

When you finally pull back, his forehead rests against yours, and his breath fans across your face. Neither of you says a word, and for once, the silence feels comfortable, even necessary.

“I… I should go to bed,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. It isn’t a rejection, but a plea for space, a moment to process what just happened.

Seungcheol nods, his hand lingering on your arm before he lets you go. “Goodnight,” he murmurs, his voice laced with something you can’t quite place—hope, maybe.

You retreat to your room, your heart pounding in your chest. You glance at the bed, where Areum sleeps peacefully, her little hand clutching her stuffed rabbit. Her soft breaths are a reminder of everything that matters, of why you came here in the first place.

Still, when you lie down, the memory of Seungcheol’s touch lingers, refusing to let you rest.

The next morning, it's smell of freshly brewed coffee wakes you. Padding into the kitchen, you find Seungcheol already at work, flipping pancakes while Areum sits on the counter, wearing one of his oversized shirts over her pajamas. She’s animatedly telling him a story about her dreams, waving her arms for emphasis.

“And then the dragon said, ‘Areum, you’re the bravest princess ever!’” she declares, her eyes wide. “Right, Daddy?”

“Of course,” he says with a grin, ruffling her hair. “If there’s anyone who can take down a dragon, it’s you.”

You linger in the doorway, unnoticed for a moment, watching the easy way they interact. Areum looks at him like he hung the moon, and Seungcheol, for all his faults, looks at her like she’s his whole world.

“Mommy!” Areum spots you first, her face lighting up. “Daddy’s teaching me how to flip pancakes! Look!” She holds up a spatula triumphantly

“Is he now?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you step closer. “Just don’t let him burn them.”

“Hey, I’m a pro. You remember.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. It’s moments like this that make it hard to hold on to the walls you’ve built.

As the three of you sit down to breakfast, Areum chatters on about all the things she wants to do before you leave the cabin. Her energy is infectious, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself relax.

After lunch, Areum insists on having a tea party outside by the lake. She drags Seungcheol along, handing him a tiny pink teacup and a plastic tiara. You try not to laugh as he dutifully places it on his head, his expression serious as Areum pours invisible tea into his cup.

“Daddy, you have to hold your pinky up!” Areum scolds, demonstrating the proper way to hold a teacup.

“Like this?” he asks, holding up his pinky with exaggerated effort.

Areum giggles. “No, Daddy, you’re doing it wrong!”

“Why don’t you join us, Mommy?” Areum calls, waving you over

“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head. “You and Daddy seem to have it under control.”

“She’s scared of your tea,” Seungcheol teases, winking at you. “Probably thinks it’s too strong.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

It's the last night at the cabin before going back to normal. After putting Areum to bed, you find Seungcheol on the porch again, leaning against the railing. The moon casts a soft glow on the lake, and the air is cool but pleasant.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks without turning around.

You step out, closing the door quietly behind you. “Something like that.”

He gestures for you to join him, and after a moment’s hesitation, you do. The two of you stand in silence, the sounds of crickets and the gentle lapping of the lake filling the void.

“She’s amazing, you know,” he says finally, his voice low. “Areum. She’s everything good about us.”

You swallow hard, nodding. “She is.”

He turns to look at you then, his gaze soft but intense. “I meant what I said last night,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to lose this again. I don’t want to lose you.”

Your breath catches, but before you can respond, he reaches for your hand. His fingers are warm, steady, as they curl around yours.

“I know it will be hard,” he continues, his voice rough with emotion. “But if there’s even a part of you that still believes in us, I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’ve changed.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you look down, unsure of how to respond.

“Cheol…” you start, your voice trembling. “This isn’t just about us anymore. It’s about Areum.”

“I know,” he says, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “And that’s why I want to do this right. For her. For you.”

For a long moment, you say nothing, your gaze fixed on the horizon. But when you finally look up, you see the sincerity in his eyes, and the walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crumble.

“Okay,” you whisper. “But this time… we take it slow.”

A smile spreads across his face, and for the first time in years, it feels like the start of something new.

The porch is quiet, save for the soft chirping of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. Seungcheol’s hand lingers in yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, deliberate movements. The air between you feels charged, heavy with unspoken words and emotions that neither of you can ignore anymore.

“Slow,” he repeats, his voice soft but resolute. “I can do slow.”

But the way he’s looking at you now. His gaze warm and searching, dipping from your eyes to your lips makes you doubt his resolve. Your pulse quickens as he steps closer, his presence overwhelming in a way that feels both familiar and new.

“Cheol…” you murmur, unsure whether it’s meant to be a warning or encouragement

“Tell me to stop,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. His free hand rises, fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face, lingering at your temple. “Tell me, and I will.”

You should say it. You should remind him that Areum is just inside, that this isn’t the time, that you’re still trying to figure things out. But instead, you find yourself leaning into his touch, the warmth of his hand against your skin unraveling the last of your defenses.

He takes your silence as permission and leans down slowly, his lips brushing against yours with an achingly soft tenderness. The kiss is tentative at first, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away, but when you don’t, it deepens. His hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other.

The sensation is overwhelming, a rush of emotions you’ve tried so hard to bury. His lips are firm and insistent, and when his teeth graze your lower lip, you let out a soft gasp that seems to ignite something in him. He tilts his head, angling the kiss to deepen it further, and you feel his fingers tighten on your waist.

Your hands find their way to his chest, pressing lightly against the hard muscle beneath his shirt. It’s not a push to stop, but it makes him pause. He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his breathing uneven.

“This okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

You nod, your fingers curling into his shirt. “Yeah.”

He lets out a soft laugh, pressing his forehead against yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

His confession sends a shiver through you, but before you can respond, his lips are on yours again. This time, there’s less hesitation. His hand slips under the hem of your sweater, his palm warm against the bare skin of your lower back. The touch is electric, sending sparks racing up your spine.

You can’t help the soft moan that escapes you, and Seungcheol freezes, pulling back abruptly. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “I said slow, and I mean it. I don’t want to mess this up.”

You’re breathless, your cheeks flushed as you look up at him. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that makes your heart ache. “You’re not messing anything up,” you assure him, your fingers still gripping his shirt.

He exhales deeply, resting his hands on your hips but making no move to take things further. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters, half-smiling as he brushes his thumb against your hipbone.

The sound of a soft thud inside the cabin breaks the moment, and both of you freeze, turning toward the door.

“Areum,” you whisper, your heart racing for an entirely different reason now

Seungcheol chuckles under his breath, stepping back and running a hand through his hair. “Guess the universe has a way of keeping me in check.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “We should check on her.”

He nods, his expression still warm. As you turn to head back inside, he catches your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Slow,” he repeats, his eyes locking with yours. “But I’m not letting you go this time.”

You smile, the warmth of his words settling deep in your chest. “Okay.”

Inside, Areum is fast asleep, her stuffed rabbit lying on the floor beside her bed. You tuck her back in, brushing a kiss to her forehead before slipping out of the room. As you close the door, Seungcheol is waiting in the hallway, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Goodnight,” you say softly, pausing in front of him

“Goodnight,” he replies, but his eyes linger on you a moment longer before he heads to his own room.

You retreat to your bed, your heart still racing from the night’s events. For the first time in years, you feel a flicker of hope—a possibility of rebuilding what you thought was lost. And as you drift off to sleep, you find yourself looking forward to what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning you were woken up by the sound of Areum’s laughter as she runs through the living room, her stuffed rabbit trailing behind her. Seungcheol is chasing after her, pretending to be a monster, his deep growls making her shriek in delight.

You go down to see the duo having so much energy this early in the day, a fond smiling forming on your face

“Daddy, you’ll never catch me!” Areum taunts, darting behind the couch.

“We’ll see about that!” Seungcheol lunges dramatically, scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Put me down!” she squeals, though her giggles betray her delight.

“Okay, okay, you win!” she says between giggles.

He sits beside her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “That’s what I thought. Who’s the champ?”

“You are!” she says, sticking her tongue out at him before turning her attention to you. “Mommy! Come sit with us!”

You join them on the couch, Areum immediately climbing into your lap and wrapping her arms around your neck. “Did you have fun this weekend, sweetheart?” you ask, smoothing her hair

“Yes! It was the best birthday ever!” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up. Then, as if remembering something important, she leans back to look at both you and Seungcheol, her expression suddenly serious

“What is it, Areum?” you ask her

She takes a deep breath, her little brows furrowed in concentration. “Yesterday, when I blew out my candles, I made a wish.”

You and Seungcheol exchange a quick glance, his brow lifting in curiosity "We remember, what about it sweet girl?"

"I thought about it a lot. And since Mommy and Daddy are best friends” she pauses to give each of you a knowing look, “—I thought maybe you could make it happen.”

Seungcheol bursts into laughter, ruffling Areum’s hair. “That’s quite the request, princess.”

“But you always say you’d do anything for me!” she counters, crossing her arms in a way that makes her look far older than six.

You bite back a smile, trying to keep your tone serious. “Sweetheart, it doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“Why not?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Well,” Seungcheol jumps in, his voice warm and teasing, “it’s not something that happens overnight. It takes time and a lot of love.”

Areum seems to consider this, her little face scrunching up in thought. Then she looks at the two of you, her smile returning. “That’s okay! I can wait. As long as you promise!”

You and Seungcheol both laugh, and he reaches over to give her a hug. “We’ll see what we can do, princess. No promises, but we’ll try our best.”

“Yay!” Areum cheers, completely satisfied with that answer. She wriggles out of your lap and runs off to find her toys, leaving the two of you alone.

As soon as Areum disappears down the hall, Seungcheol turns to you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Well, that was unexpected.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “She’s bold. Definitely takes after you.”

“Me?” he protests, feigning offense. “I think she takes after her mom. You’ve got a pretty bold streak yourself.”

“So, what do we tell her if she asks again?”

Seungcheol leans back, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “We tell her the truth. That we’re figuring things out, but we’ll always be a family—no matter what.”

“And hey,” he adds, his tone teasing, “if she really wants a sibling, I guess we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

You swat his arm, laughing despite yourself. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Choi Seungcheol.”

He grins, reaching for your hand and intertwining your fingers. “No rush,” he says softly, his eyes locking with yours. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

And as you sit there, hand in hand, you can’t help but feel that, for the first time in a long while, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

78 notes · View notes

moonlitwitchdaisy · 6 hours ago

Text

Last Christmas, I Gave You My A**

❅ summary: Last year, Gojo Satoru had been a good boy. Well, he’d at least tried. And in return, you gave him the one thing he’d been wanting for a long time. Your ass. That Christmas night was unforgettable for both of you, and you’d promised him that if he could manage to be a good boy again this year, you’d gladly give him what he wanted once more. But could your boyfriend really pull it off? Would he follow to the rules and earn his “dream ass” this Christmas, or would he mess things up like always and end up on the naughty list?

❅ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

❅ word count: 5.1k

❅ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 naughty gojo is trying to be a good boy for reader, mature language, gojo is doing the "jingle bell rock dance," mean girls fan gojo, modern au, teasing, kissing, santa-elf roleplaying, a very slight bdsm (reader is the dom hehe), oral sex (only f receiving because gojo been a naughty boy this year!), anal fingering, using handcuffs, cowgirl, unprotected sex, anal sex, needy gojo (i love when men beg), pussydrunk gojo

❅ a little note: Welcome to my first story from my Christmas series! This is probably the funniest one among them. The idea of making Gojo dance was too tempting, and this is what came out of it. I hope there aren't any mistakes. Even though I've checked, sometimes I can't see them. Other than that, hope you enjoy it! If you’d like to check out the summaries of the other stories I’ll be writing, my Xmas Stories masterlist is here. Also, please comment if you you’ve been naughty or nice this year!

Entering December officially means it’s time to dive into Christmas preparations. You had a million tasks to handle, especially since you were dating a Christmas-obsessed boyfriend, making everything needlessly extra. Right now, you were planning this year’s Christmas.

Or rather, Gojo wasn’t even letting you speak.

“Alright, now that we’ve finalized the menu, let’s move on to this year’s tree decorating theme. Last year’s snow theme was fantastic, but we have to outdo ourselves every year,” your boyfriend said, scribbling ideas onto the notepad in front of him, completely lost in thought. You, on the other hand, were bored out of your mind, listening to him ramble. Suddenly, he looked up from the paper, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh, baby! I just had the most amazing idea!”

You chuckled at his enthusiasm. “Hmm, what’s on your mind?”

“I thought, why don’t we combine love and Christmas? We could do a red-themed tree! Oh, oh, oh! We could even paint the tree red! God, I’m such a genius,” Gojo declared as he started furiously jotting down his brilliant ideas.

“How exactly do you plan on painting the tree red, love?” you asked.

“Oh, that’s the easiest part. Just trust me. This year is going to be the best one yet,” he replied confidently.

When it came to Christmas, this man turned into a completely different person. Normally, Gojo couldn’t even be bothered to take notes, but during the holiday season, he meticulously planned every detail and somehow managed to assign you tasks in the most efficient way. If only every day could be Christmas.

“Well, now that we’ve somewhat handled the tree situation, it’s time for the most important task of all!” His gaze shifted to you, and a wide grin spread across his face.

Oh, you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Toru, I already—”

“CHRISTMAS GIFTS!!!”

Oh, God… This man truly had no sense of subtlety when it came to gifts.

“You’re such a child, Toru.”

“Oh, come on, baby. Gifts are the best part of Christmas! And besides, you don’t have to be a kid to love presents.”

He wasn’t wrong at this one because you also got very happy when you received gifts.

Gojo’s smile grew even bigger as he looked at you with an excited twinkle in his eye. “So, what did you get me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Toru? If you had listened to me, I would’ve told you that I already got your gifts. You sent me your list a month ago.”

“Upsiee… Did I really?”

You rolled your eyes. This man had a way of driving you insane. “Yes. Yes, you did.”

“Come on, you know how long I’ve wanted the Super Mario Express Train LEGO set. Remember…”

“Oh, here we go again,” you muttered. He must have told you this story a thousand times by now. The even crazier part? You had been there to witness it firsthand.

That day, he stood in line for four hours just to get that train set. And because he was terrified of being alone, he dragged you along with him. When the doors finally opened, he grabbed your hand with one hand while shoving past children with the other. They had only stocked four of those sets, and according to Gojo’s calculations, there was only one left by the time he reached the shelf. Just as he grabbed the last box, a small child grabbed it at the same time.

You’d seen him lose his mind before, but that moment might have been the most terrifying. He shouted, “It’s mine you brat!” at the kid while you begged him not to fight with a child.

“And in the end, as you know, I let that little brat have it.” He crossed his arms, pouting. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you that day! Ever since then, every time I try to get the set, it’s always sold out. But luckily, my beautiful, perfect girlfriend must have found it for me, seeing as how she’s glaring at me to shut up right now.”

He was right again. His dramatics had made you desperate for him to stop talking.

“My bank account might’ve taken a little hit because of you,” you admitted. The list of gifts he’d sent you had definitely put a dent in your savings.

He waved dismissively. “I’m worth every penny, baby.”

He really was.

“You’re lucky that even tough you were naughty this year, I still got you those gifts.”

He got up from where he was sitting and came over to where you were leaning against the kitchen counter. “You know you like me being naughty.” He closed the distance, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Because if I were a good boy…” His lips trailed from your forehead to your cheek. “I wouldn’t fuck you in ways you couldn’t even dream of.” His lips moved to your neck, leaving you breathless.

“Toru…”

“Yes, baby?” he replied, his voice low.

Barely above a whisper, you managed, “Don’t tease me.”

Of course, he did the exact opposite, kissing and licking the softest spot on your neck. “What happens if I don’t? Do I get on the naughty list of the sexiest Santa in the world? If I know that Santa well, I think she’ll still give me whatever I want. Especially…” His large hands gripped your hips and gave them a soft squeeze. “The gift I want most.”

You obviously knew what he wanted most. Even on his gift list, he’d written, “MY DREAM ASS” surrounded by exclamation points and hearts. Could he make it any more obvious?

Last year, you’d tried anal for the first time. Honestly, in your three years together, you didn’t understand why you’d waited so long. Knowing how badly Gojo had wanted to fuck your ass, you’d given him the best Christmas gift of his life, even though he’d been a very naughty boy that year.

And my God, the two of you had the best sex of your lives.

You’d done it a few times since then, but Christmas was special to Gojo, and the sex you had on that day was always more passionate, especially when his big cock was stretching your tight asshole.

When you saw “your ass” at the top of his gift list this year, you’d laughed out loud. You knew he’d write it, but this time, it wasn’t going to be so easy for him to get it.

Because naughty kids couldn’t always win.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, Toru.” You cupped your boyfriend’s face in your hands. “Rumor has it Santa won’t give you the gift you want most because you haven’t been a good boy.”

“Huh, nonsense! She always gives me what I want.”

You let go of his face and adopted a serious tone. “Careful, love. If you push your luck any further, not only will you miss out on your favorite gift, but you might not get anything else either!”

Finally realizing you were serious, Gojo’s eyes widened in shock. “W-What? Baby, please… You’re the most amazing, stunning, sexy Santa in the world with the softest, most perfect ass. You wouldn’t do this to me.”

“Try me.”

Dropping to his knees, he clasped your legs and pouted dramatically. “I can be good! Please, please! I’ll do anything you want. I don’t want to be a naughty boy anymore. I’ll do whatever Santa wants. All I want is the number one gift on my list.”

A victorious smirk spread across your face. Your plan was working perfectly. “Well, since you insist…” You pulled out a red piece of paper labeled “Gojo Satoru’s 4 Tasks for Being a Good Boy.” “You know I hadn’t given you my gift list yet.”

His eyes sparkled with excitement as he stared at the paper in your hand. “Yes, yes, baby. Whatever you want, I’ll get it. I don’t care how much it costs. Consider it done.”

You laughed at how clueless he was about what he was agreeing to. “I’m not sure these are exactly items to buy… but I’d say there’s plenty of work for you to do.” You handed the paper to Gojo, who eagerly unfolded it, only to have his jaw drop in disbelief.

“Baby, what is this?”

“Oh, I’m sure the title explains it, but if you can’t read—”

“Don’t worry, I can read just fine. But what the hell is this?”

The consequences of not being a good boy this year.

“Well, I thought about it, and as the most amazing, stunning, and sexy Santa in the world, I created a special fast-track good-boy program just for you. This way, even if you haven’t been good this year, you still have a chance to earn the gift you want most. Last year, you got it easy, but this year, you need to complete a few tasks to make your Santa happy.”

Still kneeling, Gojo stared at the list before slowly standing and looking at you with wide, incredulous eyes. “Are you trying to torture me?”

“No. I just think you’ve gotten too used to getting everything your way.” Rising onto your tiptoes, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Remember this, Satoru: if you want to earn the most precious things, you have to be a good boy.”

When you pulled back, you caught sight of his flushed cheeks. No matter how dominant he usually was (especially in bed) your occasional moments of control never failed to fluster him. And you found it irresistibly cute.

“Sweetheart, did you really think a lot while preparing this list?” He glanced at the first item and read aloud: “Task 1: Apologize to the kid you fought with at the LEGO store.” His expression turned sour. “God, how am I supposed to find that kid? And there’s no way I’m apologizing to that little brat.”

“You’re lucky I ran into the kid and his mom when I was getting your LEGO set. Surprisingly, he remembered me and had a lot to say about you. After cursing you out, his mom insisted her son deserves a genuine apology.”

Gojo scoffed. “What a bitch.”

In a warning tone, you said, “Watch it, Satoru, or you won’t get what you want at all.”

Realizing his mistake, he looked at you with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry…”

“Anyway, I took her number and promised you’d deliver a proper apology.”

“Fine. Give me your phone, and I’ll call her right—”

“Oh no. If you think a phone call will cut it, you’re dead wrong, Toru. I’ll send you her number, and you’ll arrange to meet them somewhere nice. Apologize to the kid properly—maybe buy him a LEGO set or treat them to a meal. It’s up to you. But by the end of the day, I want to hear from her that you’ve apologized appropriately.”

Gojo was not pleased. Apologizing was one of his least favorite things to do, and now he had to do it to the kid who took the LEGO set he wanted most.

“Fine, I’ll do it. I’ll apologize to that brat. But only… only for your ass.”

“That’s not the only task on the list, Toru.”

He rolled his eyes and read the second item: “Task 2: Take an unforgettable Christmas photo. Must include: 1. Gojo Satoru must be naked!!!! 2. Use a Polaroid camera. 3. Showcase a Christmas theme (Get creative ♡).” He smirked at you before continuing. “So, uh, what exactly is this photo going to be used for?”

This time, it was your turn to blush. “That’s… not important.”

Of course, you planned to use it for a little personal pleasure during lonely moments.

Gojo’s knowing laugh made your cheeks burn brighter, but he moved on to the next task: “Task 3: Perform the ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ dance from Mean Girls on Christmas Eve.”

“Lucky for you, I know how much you love Mean Girls. And I know you’ll blow that bitch Regina out of the water with your moves.”

“Damn right, baby. I’ll rock your world with my dace that night.” He gave you a quick kiss before reading the final task: “Task 4: Santa-elf roleplay. Costumes and props will be provided by Gojo Satoru’s amazing girlfriend.” Looking back at you with sparkling eyes, he said, “God, I’ve never wanted to be a good boy more in my life. I’m in. For the gift I want most, I’ll be the best boy Santa’s ever seen.”

“Alright, Gojo Satoru. Let the good-boy operation begin.”

“Hell yeah. Good boys are the best.”

Whether or not that was true would be revealed on Christmas.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Christmas Eve had arrived in the blink of an eye. You and your boyfriend had been preparing food together since morning. Over the years, it had become a tradition to celebrate Christmas Eve with dinner, followed by opening presents on Christmas morning and spending the rest of the day celebrating in bed.

That’s where the real Christmas magic happened.

Around 8 PM, after finishing dinner and before diving into your main Christmas fun, you thought some hot chocolate would be perfect. As you were preparing the drinks in the kitchen together, a warmth spread through you as a pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind. Your boyfriend’s familiar scent, mixed with his cologne, sent shivers down your spine.

“So, are you ready for my spectacular show?” he whispered, planting a soft kiss on your neck.

As you topped the mugs with marshmallows, you replied, “I think this might be the best Christmas night of my life.”

“I’ll do my best to make sure you never forget it. Like I promised, I’m going to be a good boy.”

Gojo was really taking this seriously. He had already completed the first task successfully. Last week, after getting the number from you, he reached out to the mom of the kid he had fought with at the LEGO store and arranged to meet him to apologize. Somehow, by the end of that meeting, they had become buddies, and Gojo even brought the kid over to your house to show off his LEGO collection. You had no idea how that happened, but in the end, your boyfriend had gained a new friend.

“I have to admit, you really kept your word. And you even gained a new friend while trying to be a good boy.”

Gojo let go of your waist, took the mug you handed him, and began praising his new friend with excitement. “Baby, that kid is seriously cool. Okay, maybe not as cool as you, but I never thought I’d like him this much.”

Carrying your hot chocolates into the living room, you sat on the couch and took a small sip. Noticing Gojo’s gaze fixed on the gifts under the tree, you realized he was probably about to pounce on them if you didn’t stop him. “Toru, don’t even think about it! We always open gifts in the morning.”

Realizing his plan was foiled, Gojo gave you a pouty look. “But I want to open them. Especially the one I want the most.”

“Then finish your tasks, love.”

He took a deep breath before standing up and pulling something out of his pocket, trying to hide it from your view.

You knew what it was. Something you’d been dreaming of for a long time.

“Before I hand over this precious photo, I’d like to thank my best friend Suguru for helping me take it. He also helped wrap me in ribbon. Now, if you’re ready, on the count of three, I’ll show you the amazing photo you’ll be using for, well, your moments.”

“TORU!!!”

“1… 2… 3!” Excitedly, he flipped the polaroid photo toward you, leaving you speechless.

You knew you had a handsome boyfriend—Gojo was undeniably attractive. But this photo was on a whole new level.

He was wrapped in a large red ribbon, his hands and body elegantly tied. And yes, even his sizable cock had its own little red bow. On his face was that signature smirk, the one that screamed he knew exactly how sexy he was.

This might just be your favorite task yet.

“Judging by your reaction, I’d say you like it, baby.”

“I-I really do,” you stammered.

Gojo leaned in to press a long, wet kiss to your lips before pulling back, resting his forehead against yours. “Use it whenever you want. If you’d like, I can take a hundred more like this. I love being your gift.”

“Toru…”

“So, do I get my most desired gift after completing the last task?”

Overwhelmed by the moment, you closed your eyes before answering. “Yes. That was the plan, but did you forget your dance performance?”

Pulling back instantly, Gojo grinned. “Baby, get ready to watch the dance of your life. I’ve been secretly practicing every day while you were at work, and trust me, I’m better than that bitch Regina.”

His excitement made you smile. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”

“Okay, okay, now go to our bedroom and stay there until I call you! Don’t come out until I say so!” He practically dragged you off the couch, pushing you into the bedroom before shutting the door and disappearing.

You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of performance he had planned. He was clearly taking this seriously. He really wanted your ass. Not that it would’ve mattered—you would’ve given it to him anyway. But making him work for it was just too entertaining.

Especially since you had some great plans for the final task.

About ten minutes later, you heard him call for you. Stepping out of the bedroom and into the living room, you noticed the lights were off, save for the glow of your Christmas tree (which, yes, he had actually painted red). Suddenly, music began playing, and Gojo appeared in the middle of the room.

As “Jingle Bell Rock” played, he started performing the exact dance from Mean Girls. From the girls’ outfits to the arm movements to the hip sways—everything was identical.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter, and when Gojo caught sight of your joy, he smiled softly, clearly pleased to see you enjoying yourself.

Just like in the movie, the music suddenly cut out, only for Pitbull’s “Give Me Everything” to start playing. Abandoning all sexy moves, Gojo began doing ridiculous breakdance moves, leaving you doubled over with tears streaming down your face.

You were currently watching the world’s most absurd yet entertaining dance performance. Your boyfriend, dressed in a slutty Santa costume, was rolling around on the floor. Occasionally, his skirt would lift, revealing his boxers—an unexpected bonus to the show.

When the song ended, he struck a bizarre pose and froze. You burst into applause, running to him and jumping into his arms. Cupping his face, you pulled him into a feverish kiss.

You really loved this man. He was the only person who would do this for you. Not just to get the gift he wanted most, but if you looked him in the eyes and simply asked, he’d agree to anything. He could never say no to you.

As his arms wrapped around your waist, he pulled you even closer. Within seconds, you found yourself lying back on the couch as Gojo broke the kiss.

“Did you like it?” He rubbed his nose against yours, his warm breath grazing your lips.

“I loved it. It was incredible. That bitch Regina has so much to learn from you.”

“Damn right, yeah.” He pressed his lips back to yours, kissing you passionately, full of heat and excitement.

Lost in the moment, you let yourself be swept away, but then the thought of his next task broke through your haze. This time, you were the one to pull back from the kiss.

“T-Toru…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you ready for your final task?”

“The Santa-elf roleplay? Baby, I was born ready. I can’t wait to see your elf costume.”

Oh, it seemed he didn’t realize he’d be the elf.

“Toru, my love… I hate to break it to you, but you’re going to be the elf.”

“Excuse me?” He sat up abruptly, shocked.

“You heard me right.”

“But I’m already wearing the sexy Santa costume. I thought—”

You sat up from where you were lying, smirking mischievously at your boyfriend. “As the most beautiful, sexy Santa with the softest, ass in the world, if I’m going to give you the gift you want most, Satoru, I think I should be the one wearing this costume.”

You took his hand, nodding toward the hallway for him to follow.

His excited eyes locked on yours as you led him to your bedroom, and your heart pounded like it might burst out of your chest. You had never done something like this before. Normally, you loved letting him take control. But tonight, you were calling all the shots.

Once in the bedroom, you pulled out the elf costume you’d been hiding from him for weeks and handed it to him. “Go to the bathroom, change into this, and only come back when I call for you. The moment you walk into this room wearing that costume, you’ll be my little elf slave. So don’t even think about doing anything that might upset Santa. Got it?”

“Yes ma'am.” Gojo stared at you, mesmerized, before taking the elf costume and fake ears from your hands and heading to the bathroom. In the meantime, you took off your Christmas-themed pajamas and slipped into your sexy Santa costume. After putting on the hat, you lit a few new Christmas-themed candles to set the mood in the room.

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you called out, “You can come in now.”

Within seconds, the door opened, and Gojo stepped into the room in the green elf costume, complete with the pointy ears. His eyes wandered from your chest, where the tight top accentuated your breasts, down to the skirt that barely covered your ass, and then to your legs.

You could already feel the heat of his gaze imagining all the ways he wanted to fuck you.

Standing next to the bed, you gestured for him to come closer. Like an obedient little elf, he followed your command and stood in front of you.

“I know how hard you’ve worked this year, my little elf. As you know, it’s Christmas Eve, and after midnight, we have gifts to deliver.” Your hands began tracing his chest. “But I also want to make sure my special elves get their rewards. As my best worker, it’s my duty to give you your gift.”

“I live to serve, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, what is the gift you want most, my little elf?”

Gojo swallowed hard. “I-I, uh…”

Your hands paused their movement and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. “You what? Answer me, or you won’t get what you want.”

“Your ass, ma’am,” he blurted out.

“My ass, huh? Do you think you’ve earned it?”

With an eager voice, he replied, “I was naughty this year, but I promise I’ll give your ass the best attention it’s ever had, ma’am.”

His answer made your already wet pussy throb even more. But before he could fuck your tight hole, you had something else in mind for his talented mouth.

“The best attention, huh? Can you give the same to my wet pussy?”

“Absolutely, ma’am.”

“Then get on your knees, my little elf.”

Without hesitation, your boyfriend dropped to his knees, looking up at you, waiting for his next command.

“Lift my skirt.”

His large hands found the hem of your skirt and slowly raised it, revealing your bare, glistening pussy. You knew he was internally battling to keep his composure.

“Do you want to taste it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice filled with longing.

You ran your fingers through his hair, gently stroking it before giving your permission. “Then do it.”

Without wasting another second, Gojo buried his head between your legs and began licking you.

His tongue traced small circles around your clit, making your legs tremble with each pass. Your hands gripped his hair tighter, pulling him closer. You wanted more, needed his tongue to explore every inch of you.

“F-fuck… suck it!” Normally, you’d remember to say “please” because you knew how much he loved hearing it, but tonight, you were in control.

When Gojo’s lips wrapped around your clit and his tongue added pressure, you couldn’t help but let out a sharp cry. Each second he sucked, his tongue teasingly flicked against your most sensitive spot, pushing you closer to the edge.

“God… I didn’t know elves were this good with their tongues—AH, GOD, JUST LIKE THAT.”

When he slid his tongue into your pussy, your head fell back. Your hands tugged at his hair as his tongue moved in and out, making you crave his big cock even more.

“Stick your finger—your finger in my ass. Ugh… stretch it out before I let you fuck it. And don’t stop licking me.”

With a hot breath against your pussy, he replied, “As you wish, ma’am.”

His hand slid from your thigh to your ass, and he began circling your tight hole with his finger before slowly pushing it inside.

“Mhhhmph… fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moaned, overwhelmed by the mix of sensations.

He didn’t let up. While his finger stretched your ass, his tongue continued working on your pussy, planting noisy kisses on your clit. When his tongue found your sweet spot again, he sucked hard, sending you spiraling toward your orgasm.

“I’m gonna come in your mouth… ugh, don’t stop—I’m so close!”

“Please, come in my mouth,” Gojo begged, his voice dripping with need.

A few more swipes of his tongue and a deep thrust of his finger pushed you over the edge. With a scream, you came hard into his mouth, your legs shaking as your climax overwhelmed you.

All you wanted now was to kiss him and feel his big cock inside you.

When he finally pulled his head back from between your legs, his face was glistening with your wetness. You pulled him up to you, crashing your lips against his. Satoru stayed still, letting you take the lead, not daring to do anything that might disrupt your control.

When you pulled back to speak, both your lips were slick from saliva and your juices. “Lie on the bed and put your hands above your head.”

He looked into your eyes and you saw the burning desire in his blue gaze. You knew how much he wanted this.

Without hesitation, he lay down on the bed, clasping his hands above his head. From the nightstand, you grabbed the Christmas-themed handcuffs you’d bought and secured his wrists to the headboard.

“Now you’re completely mine, my little elf slave.” You climbed on top of him, pulling down the green pants of his costume. “Remember, there’s no pleasure for you tonight. You were a bad boy this year, so the only thing you’re getting is my tight ass.”

Pulling his pants and boxers off, you grabbed his hard cock, running your fingers over the tip.

“F-fuck…” Gojo gasped, a string of curses leaving his lips.

In a sharp tone, you warned, “You don’t speak unless I give you permission.”

He nodded obediently, his lips sealed. Aligning your ass with his cock, you lifted your skirt and slowly lowered yourself onto him, letting out a loud moan as he stretched you open.

“I can’t even—God, I can’t even talk.” You paused for a moment to adjust before starting to move, rocking your hips up and down in small motions.

“You’ve been waiting for this all year, haven’t you? Now—ah, God, now take what you’ve been dreaming of.” you said, your voice breathy as your movements quickened.

“Y-yes, ma’am. You’re the best gift I could ever have,” Gojo groaned deeply.

“Yes, I’m the best gift—for you. Only I can give you this,” you panted, feeling the fullness of his cock inside you.

Every nerve in your body was alive, overwhelmed by the sensation of his thick cock stretching your ass. The sound of your ass slapping against him only spurred you to move faster. His balls hit against your skin, sending waves of pleasure through you.

Throwing your head back, you moved your hips even faster. “Are you close, my little elf?”

“Yes, ma’am… oh, so—so close,” he said, his voice strained, his eyes shut tight.

“Then be a good elf and—ah, God, come for me… come for me now!”

With a few final bounces, you felt his release fill you, the warmth spilling into you as you collapsed onto his chest.

Both of you were panting, your breaths uneven as you tried to come down from the high. After a few minutes of resting, you lifted your head to look at him, your mischievous but obedient boyfriend. “Merry Christmas, my love.” You kissed him softly, savoring the moment.

Gojo was still catching his breath. “To you too, baby. Luckily, Santa gave me the gift I wanted most. I think I might actually enjoy being a good boy.”

Your fingers gently stroked his cheeks as you chuckled. “You definitely deserved it. Santa would do anything for you.”

“And I’d do anything for her. Also, baby, I realized I get extra hard when you’re the one in control.”

“Oh, you liked it, huh?” You placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Yep. Let’s do this every year. But next year, I want to be Santa. This costume was so itchy.”

Your lips curled into a smile as you continued to leave small kisses on his cheek. “Deal.”

“In that case, untie me, and let’s put our pajamas back on and watch Mean Girls while drinking hot chocolate.” Mean Girls was probably your favorite movie as a couple. You watched it at least once a month.

While untying the cuffs, you said, “I don’t think the hot chocolate is hot anymore.”

Freed from the handcuffs, Gojo rubbed his wrists where the marks were. “Then I’ll just have something else that’s hot.”

“Like soup—HEY, TORU!” Before you could finish your sentence, you suddenly found yourself on your back as he climbed on top of you, grinning mischievously.

“Something better than soup.” As he lowered his head and made his way between your legs again, you realized you’d be staying in bed a little longer.

In that moment, you were reminded once again how much you loved him, whether he was good or naughty all year long.

But deep down, you’d always love him more when he was naughty.

gojo satoru art by @1004_shvn on X

santa hat divider by @strangergraphics

red line divider by @cxltbr1de

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader

86 notes · View notes