amoré @baobaojng - Tumblr Blog

Rouge (Kim Mingyu)

(mafia & ??? mingyu) x (afab! jazz club singer & ??? reader)

themes: angst, fluff?, smut (minors dni)

summary: things only get complicated when the singer at the club who's running away from her past catches the eye of a mafia member who has more to hide than he lets on.

warnings and notes: mentions of violence, drugs, drinking and smoking, reader is a little bit of a brat lol, pet names (baby, songbird) oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (please wrap it up irl, this is fiction so we can go crazy in writing haha), mingyu is huuuuuge, a little but of a size kink, creampie, i got a little carried away honestly — sex montage and all lol… there’s a sort of rewarding love making scene so maybe that can make up for it… I’m so sorry…

a/n: i do not permit the use of this fic for anything else. this work is mine and mine alone. these premises and characters are entirely fictional and do not intend to paint anyone in a bad light.

wordcount: 16,893

author's masterlist

It’s his fifth Saturday in the club.

You know this because it’s the fifth time you’d seen him from where you stood on stage. On the same table, with the same drink of straight whiskey from a frozen glass, with the same set of men you were familiar with already.

But he was new.

New enough to pique at your interest.

You had been singing for the Rogue club for about a year now almost, a well manicured spectacle to keep the rather intimidating clientele entertained. A friend of a friend referred you as a new entertainment for the club; thinking you would be open to accepting because they knew you were running away from something, and the Rogue was well secure enough for you to go into hiding.

The initial contract was two months, you knew the risks of staying in one place for too long. But as you slowly learned that the Rogue was no ordinary nightclub, it dragged on for as long as it did now. It seemed your departure was not entirely clearly written in the future. It seemed a better option to settle. To stay.

Being a spectacle at the Rogue meant you were part of an ecosystem that offered you protection— as your coworkers at the club would like to tell you. This place was neutral territory, though plenty mobsters and gangsters of different circles patronized the joint - there were absolutely no scuffles, no fights, just quiet drinking, smoking, and minding each other’s business when the shows were on and for as long as they were in the club’s premises.

That implied that since you were the jazz singer at the Rogue, it was out of anybody’s best interest to pry. No one knew your real name, no one would bother to look for you when the sun rose when you were not in your fancy glitters and furs. You would hide in obscure anonymity, only to be known on stage as such. Although some did attempt to act on their interests, you had always so kindly let them down before anything could happen and be unearthed.

New faces came and went, some faces too familiar, plenty men in their tailored coats and hats. All of them just faces and ears that looked and listened, none that caused you any particular trouble. Though they were a topic of conversation among your workers, consistently feeding your own ears with the propriety and the reputation of all your old and new patrons. It was simply enough to be familiar, but there needed to be a clear distance if you wanted to stay longer— if you wanted to be safe longer.

The man that has been here for five Saturdays straight though, it seemed he was far different. His suit jacket always hanging behind his chair, making him stand out in a crowd of men who would rather sweat in their suits - while he seemed illuminated white his white button up shirt exposed. Or whatever undershirt he decided to wear.

He had a long gold embellished cane that leaned lazily on his table, matching the large golden ring he wore on his pinky finger. An accessory that shone under the light that made you squint only just a little when he held his whiskey glass so close to his face.

Another thing about him was that man was tall, his frame making it absolutely obvious even if you had only seen him from tables away. His neck craning to entertain whispered conversation from the company he frequented. Company that you did know well from stories, and because they were rather regularly courteous leaving you tips after your sets.

But the thing that intrigued you was how gorgeous this man was. Something about how everything in his features perfectly framed this image of attraction, and you knew by the way his eyebrow raised in acknowledgement when any other female stole so much of a glance that he knew he was every single thing of appealing.

Maybe that’s why you had to be careful when you felt yourself looking at him for too long.

With one of your hands perched on your hip, and another daintily wrapped around the ribbon microphone, you wait for the band’s music to wistfully fade out with the final notes of your voice.

Your set for the night was finally done, and while this typically made you sad, it felt like quite a relief these past five weeks.

With any other attractive man watching you on stage before, it felt like a gift to be the performer on stage catching their attention. But this tall, beautiful man’s face just looking up at you from the crowd made you uncomfortable. Even as your eyes met from far away, the feeling in your stomach that pinched at your sides was not a good sign.

You were an artist, sure. Did it mean you exaggerated each feeling that ran through your mind? Absolutely. You could never ever mistake the feeling of gravitating toward someone, and you knew that not knowing more about this man was the safest choice.

There was a certainty in you that just knew you’d be absolutely in trouble if you tried getting closer and if you tried so much so as to get to know more.

“Thank you very much, you’ve all been such darlings tonight.” You finally say in your most sultry voice, claps echo from across the room.

From behind the mist of tobacco smoke, you see that he is the only one not applauding. A cigar on his lips as he puffed out enough smoke, it almost felt like cheating how it exaggerated his handsome features. His long curly hair just still and lying perfectly on his head, much like the stone cold look on his face.

Trying to gracefully exit, you make your way down the stage toward the table at the side dedicated to the jazz band’s ensemble.

Jennie, a waitress at the Rouge that you were friends with, heads straight to your table with a drink in her hands.

Straight whiskey in a frozen glass, the frosted appearance unmistakable - and the smokey scent almost immediately recognizable.

“It’s from Mr. Kim,” She points to the table where the tall stranger sat, but all the men at his table were all caught up in conversation, “you have a new fan, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “Well it’s the least he could do, he couldn’t even be bothered to put his hands together to clap.” You say.

“He’s just not the type to do that.” Jennie says, and you quirk a brow - now knowing that she knew something of this man.

“How do you know that?”

She sighs, “just be careful, okay?” Jennie walks off now.

Your eyes look around to follow your friend who now disappeared among all the tables, but instead you find yourself making eye contact with this… Mr. Kim, who now had a name, albeit the only one you knew was a last one.

He raises his own glass, signaling for you to do so with the glass of whiskey he just bought you. It’s only common courtesy for you to raise your own glass, offering a smile as a thank you with your eyes glued in eye contact with his. How you dreaded how this made you melt, but you could not let any sign of weakness show.

The two of you slowly sipping whiskey, not going unnoticed by the other sets of eyes from his table.

This was not you being careful.

“What is all this?” You ask Minnie, who was in charge of prettying everyone up at the club. She ran the large dressing room at the back, and she’d probably be the person to know where the huge flower arrangement sitting on your designated vanity came from.

“Mr. Kim sent it over, Vernon delivered it when we were hauling in the new dresses for the season. Summer’s getting hot.” She responds, not seeming at all concerned about the gift sent to you, only rambling on about stressing about an entirely new wardrobe.

At this point, she was so used to men sending you chocolates, flowers, stuffed bears, and strange objects of affection. This was just another pre-Saturday night occurrence.

To you this was not anything regular, wondering what this Mr. Kim wanted in return of your affections— wondering if this was the same Mr. Kim you had been dreading yet looking forward to seeing again. You now did know that Vernon delivered these to the club, and that same Mr. Kim surrounded himself constantly with the guys from SVT.

‘Songbird. Share a drink again with me tonight, but I prefer you being in the same table as me. - M.’

A note placed atop the elaborate bouquet read, confirming the identity of this Mr. Kim.

That night when you sing on stage, your eyes try to wander around, looking for the man who bought you a drink and sent you flowers - but he did not take the same seat at the same table. No man taking off his suit jacket and smoking his cigars, no sight of him at all.

It shouldn’t surprise you that men of this line of work were not men of their words; coming and going was a part of the business, and relationships were often their flaw.

“Thank you very much, you’ve all been such darlings tonight.” It’s the same spiel you had, waiting for the applause to die down and the stage light to dim before you make your way to your table once again.

There’s a vague ghost of where the stage light burned through your cornea, your vision still a little bit of an obstructed mess - seeing the circle of light each time you blinked.

So you resorted to keeping your head low in hopes that the low light would help your vision go back to normal. Only a few minutes of this and you knew it would cure this temporary issue.

Around the ground where you focus your attention, you see the outline of a gold plated cane. You wonder if you’re imagining Mr. Kim’s cane, since you felt a deep disappointment at the loss of his presence for the night - especially because he did ask you to share a drink. More so, it did make you expect him.

“Are you feeling well songbird?” A hand is placed on your shoulders, the sensation warm, but somehow the confirmation that he was there made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“I am, thank you.” You place a hand on your chest, and your vision has in fact cleared - and you’re trying to act as though you’re well confident enough to face this man.

Except you felt nervous, maybe a little scared.

“Did you get your flowers?” He asks, cooly pulling out the chair from across you.

“Yes I did, they’re beautiful. Thank you.” You look up to see him clearly now, expecting to be less wooed by how he appeared, but he looked so much better up close than he did from tables away when you were on stage.

It was only really unfair that someone was crafted so gorgeously.

“I bet you get flowers all the time, songbird.” He says with a grin on his face, “has anyone been so impressive for you to accept sharing a drink or are you this courteous to every man who wants to pin you down all for themselves?” This Mr. Kim asks, commanding a raised hand, and Jennie comes just in time to give him a glass of whiskey and you a martini.

“I suppose I do receive little gifts now and then, I don’t feel the need to lie to you. But I don’t regularly get asked to share a drink, and if I do - I turn them down immediately.” You tell him honestly, and you can tell that he seems pleased.

He smiles, and you notice how his canines frame it.

“Good.” He nods before he takes a sip of his preferred alcohol. There’s a moment of silence that swallows you before he speaks, starting with a click of his tongue. “I hear the way all these dogs talk about you like you’re some piece of meat they want to devour.” He scans around the room and there’s an almost scary glint in his eyes when he does so.

“I don’t mind what they say or what they think,” you smile the sweetest smile you can, “I simply sing for the club and that’s it.” You take the martini glass and start to take a tiny sip.

“I hope you don’t mind I took the liberty of asking which drink you usually got.” He points at the cocktail you had.

Figures.

“Only if it means you were being attentive when you asked.”

“I can be more attentive, if you find that what I say or what I think matters to you.” He’s challenging you now, wondering out loud what you meant earlier.

In the world you two are in, the best and safest thing for you to do is simply be passive and let things be the way that they present themself to. But something in the way that the tone in his muscles build through his suit jacket as he waits impatiently for your answer has you so tempted to tease him.

You tilt your head to the side, knowing how your hair would effortlessly follow suit with the movement.

“What do you mean by that?”

He knew you knew what he meant— you did, and he can only huff out in almost frustrated laughter.

“I’m interested in you, and I want you to feel the same. Or should I spell that out for you in case you want to know how that checks out?”

It’s your turn to smile and giggle, and it breaks whatever tension this man had written on his face. He can swear that it’s the most pleasing sound he’s heard.

“You can prove this interest by giving me a name first, you know. It’s so extremely difficult to be sincere.”

“It’s Mingyu,” He answers almost too eagerly, “I know you’re Y/N.”

You get too lost in his eyes for you to notice how everybody at the club had noticed another man in your table.

It feels like time circles down the drain; Mingyu ordered several rounds more, and the night died down with patrons slowly leaving the club. Only the two of you keeping the momentum of laughter and conversation - getting to know each other but not getting to know too much.

“It’s getting awfully late.” Jennie interrupts a joke you were laughing at, and it was a clear warning to see that only the two of you were occupying the club now. She was trying to be protective, you knew it in the tone of her voice and the way she fearlessly eyed your companion.

“Uh… yes… we’ll have to wrap this up then.” You try to straighten the way you sit as you say this, but you know that the gin and the vermouth have probably shot up straight into your brain and somehow your balance is not as poised as it was earlier this evening.

Mingyu goes out of his way to catch you, you feel his large hands graze the exposed skin of your shoulders.

“I’ll take care of her Jen, I swear it on my life.” Mingyu tells your friend, and if you weren’t so disoriented you would probably ask how they knew each other; the nickname not going unnoticed.

“You better swear it on your life.” She only says, turning to you now, “please just be safe Y/N.” Then she walks off with a tray of your empty glasses.

“You’re a bit tipsy now aren’t you?” Mingyu asks you, and now you’re hyperaware of the warmth of his palm still pressed up on your skin.

“Maybe.” You smile as you draw out the word and he laughs.

“You are.”

“I am not. I’m a little drunk is what I am.” You say, raising one index finger.

“I would be anything but a gentleman if I let you go home in this state alone,” he tries to explain but there’s a playful glint in your eyes from the intoxication and it prompts him to be forward, “can I please take you home tonight, songbird?”

You can only laugh again.

“Nothing funny, just me bringing a girl safely back into her home is all.” He explains and you nod.

“Just please... let me get my things in the dressing room.”

That’s how you end up alone at first, dizzy as you tried navigating about the familiar space, hoping that you could get to your own vanity— but that was proving to be a difficult feat. The sound reverberates when you accidentally hold on to some clothing rack, the metal bumping into someone else’s vanity.

This alerts Mingyu who has been patiently waiting just by the doorframe of the dressing room, who swoops in to save you just in time from tripping further into landing somewhere else.

“Martinis should not be your drink, songbird.” He comments, still cautiously placing a hand on your shoulder as you turn into mush.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have been carried away.” You try to blame him, but you ease up on trying to tease him any further. Your temples felt like any of the veins were just about to explode, and your heart was thumping so hard in the confines of your chest - but you knew that had little to do with the alcohol and more so the proximity of this man.

You’re lucky he knows exactly what the flower arrangement he sent you looks like, as it looked so elegantly out of place in this crowded dressing space. It’s almost a relief when he steadies you onto the vanity you were hovering over, quickly making his way to what he presumed to be your little area.

“Are these your belongings?” He’s able to pick out the medium black purse that definitely does belong to you. You simply nod to say yes.

Mingyu picks out the beige mink coat that’s splayed across the chair of your vanity, he carefully places it over both your shoulders. The weight of the thing making it stable enough not to fall onto the floor, but he takes his time patting it down and you can feel his breath on you.

You don’t know what drives you to do it, but it takes a little bit of effort to tiptoe enough to get at the level of his height when you place a kiss on his lips.

Expecting your affections to be reciprocated, it sobers you quickly when you pull away to find that he presses his lips into a line - not at all responsive and not looking the slightest bit impressed by the kiss you had given him.

“Thank you.” You just say, coughing to the side to avoid his gaze as you take your purse from one of his hands, and you make a hasty exit to the door.

That was embarrassing.

Not much is said on the walk out. He tries to walk beside you, but you maintain a good half arm’s length away from him when he tries to come close.

“I don’t live far from the Rouge.” You speak up, now you’re completely in control of your motor movements and you’re sure you’ll remember each awkward step the next day. Though, it was quite early into the morning now that the sun could come spilling in from the shadows at any moment. You were familiar with the light breeze of dawn.

The cobblestone street of the neighborhood made each click of your heels reverberate through the other stone buildings. The Rouge was tucked around here somewhere, in the mayhem of alleyways intersecting through one way or another - a perfect place for the kind of people it housed and the people that visited it.

Easy to get in, get lost, and hide— but difficult to get out if you did not know the area well.

Mingyu lights a cigarette when you reach the end of your street, only a few meters now. Silence wraps around the two of you, the cold an unwelcome addition to the mix.

It doesn’t feel like he’s watching you, but you know that he’s attentively following your movements. A turn to your right and you reach the cozy apartment complex you resided in.

The lobby is empty, but the reception desk your doorman is properly lit - and you notice the steam from a coffee cup half full. You should consider it luck that your doorman is not present to see your companion; heaven knows what Mingyu’s reputation was.

“I’ll walk you up.” Mingyu says as you fiddle with your fingers, standing right in front of the elevator doors. You’d hoped he would have left you there, and maybe you could deal with the rejection of the kiss much easier.

You only nod.

The elevator is empty, and you make it a point to stand in the corner as far away from him as the confined space could allow you. But the smell of cigarette smoke is oh-so present, and even if you lean hard enough on the hand railings you know that you can’t escape him.

You reach the top-most, sixth, floor rushing to walk to your front door. He hovers behind you as you slip your keys in the knob, ignoring his proximity.

“Y/N.” You can hear him say softly, and you ignore him still. The lock finally clicks, and you’re able to go inside turning on the lights as you do so.

Walking into the small hallway at the entrance of your apartment, you do not expect Mingyu to come inside. He swiftly takes one of your hands to stop you from walking away any further and his other hand locks you in place as he presses you gently agains the wall to face him.

“Please don’t tell me you’re interested if you don’t even want me kissing you.” You squeak, noticing how hard he’s staring at you.

“What’s a gentleman to do when he knows his lady is intoxicated when she kisses him?” He responds, holding a hand palm-facing the wall just above your head. If being cornered was a literal feeling, then he had a great way of making you feel that.

“You’re just saying that.” You reason.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you.” He bites back.

“And what if I want you to?” You challenge him and you can tell he’s holding back by the way he inches closer.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, songbird.” He whispers so close to the side of your neck, inhaling sharply. “That’s— see, this will get you in trouble.” He comments.

This gets you genuinely curious. “What will?”

“This perfume.” He says, head lower and you can feel his breath fan over your collarbones.

“What about my perfume?” You try moving closer to him.

“You smell like bergamot and basil.” He mumbles, “and it’s been a pain in the ass smelling how sweet you are all evening.”

“Is that why you didn’t like me kissing you?” You ask him, and you can tell he’s not in the mood for sarcasm.

“That’s why I didn’t, yes.” He agrees, but before you can protest he speaks again.

“Do you know how hard I want to do this properly? To impress you? Want to get to know you and let the veil of mystery wear off before I can even hold your hand— let alone kiss you on your cheek?” He sounds frustrated now, looking up to meet your gaze.

“Tell me what’s getting in the way of that then.”

“You!” Mingyu’s hand meets the wall behind you again, “you’re so fucking tempting. I can’t even act like a good man to you right now because you’re getting in my head and I can’t take it.”

You gently place your own hand just above the nape of his neck covered by the overgrowth of his medium length hair, pushing his head closer to yours that there’s barely any space left to breathe.

“Let’s just skip all your gentlemanly scheming this time.” You say and he swallows on nothing. “I’m letting you have your way with me now, be nice to me later.”

That’s all it takes for him to kiss you, impatiently dropping your purse off on the ground when you turn into jelly as both his hands cup your face. You moan as he grunts, taking off his suit jacket as you navigate getting your thick coat off in time.

“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath for the few milliseconds that his lips are not locked into yours, your tongue slipping in lewdly as you’ve now decided you’re making out while unbuttoning his long sleeved dress shirt.

Mingyu sucks on your tongue, earning a quick gasp from you as he begins to knead at your breasts. You feel your nipples hardening beneath the cotton of your bra, and you want him to know how aroused he’s making you - placing your hands atop the hands he’s using to feel you up you make him touch you harder.

“Come on, get me naked.” You challenge him, now seeing how blown out and lipstick stained his own swollen lips looked.

“Not here.” Mingyu runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll fuck you here against this wall next time, but I want to be sweet to you the first time, got that?”

“Oh you’re such a romantic, aren’t you?” You trace a hand over his bare chest, ogling at the rows of muscle just proudly framing his torso.

“And you my dear, are such a little minx.” He finds a way to carry you by cradling you in his arms, back to kissing each other because neither of you can get enough.

“First door past the living room.” You manage to say and he complies, opening the door to your bedroom.

Mingyu places you sitting gently on the edge of your double bed, allowing you to watch him. He discards the long sleeved dress shirt, removing each sleeve and leaving it on the floor.

God he was hot. He was so insanely hot.

“Am I impressive enough?” He taunts you again in this long game of teasing.

“I don’t know, maybe I need to see more.”

Mingyu scoffs.

“C’mon, let’s be fair. You have to tempt me.” He demands, the way that he’s staring at you is making you feel so small.

“Take it off me then,” you tug at the hem of your dress, “don’t you want to impress me?” You lean, knowing very well that the valley between your breasts will come into perfect view.

“Careful now.”

“Don’t you want to show me how much you want me?” A smirk forms on your face and he looks like he’s too impatient to care, unbuckling his leather belt now while making his way to you.

“Arms up, baby.” He commands and you smile in a daze. Mingyu tugs so gently yet so forcefully at the silk dress that he’s able to leave you only in your underwear. You lean back, using both hands to gain some stabilization as you sit.

All you can do is focus on the way he’s getting rid of his pants, noticing the huge bulge forming underneath his boxers— but all he can do is mutter several ‘fuck’s under his breath as he admires your body.

“Please touch me, Mingyu.”

“You don’t know what you’re in for when you say that, songbird.” He comes close to unclasp your bra, setting your breasts free for him to touch. Your nipples going hard at the harsh intrusion of the cold air of the room, but even more so the arousal from the situation. Before you can get anymore impatient, he sucks on one of your breasts - circling his tongue around your areola.

And so your moans flood the room, gasping at his fingers toying with your clit over your panties. Trying to desperately please you, get the sounds out from your pretty little mouth, wanting to get you all naked for him.

He decides he cannot wait anymore, and he takes your panties off so quickly that you gasp when his tongue swipes a lick over your pussy. Attaching his mouth to suck on your hardened sensitive clit, he brings a finger slowly into your hole. A squelching sound ripping through your load moans, and this makes him excited.

You were so fucking wet for him.

He becomes more playful now with his movements, the suction of his mouth so evidently focused at which angles brought out the most reactions - and the addition of an extra finger entering you, curling up to find the spot that was just sharply hitting your pleasure. The build up is sudden, because he knows what he’s doing.

The impressive thing when he makes you cum over his fingers and on his mouth the first time, is how he manages to keep going despite your desperate want to free from his motions. Even just for a moment, you wanted to take a break from the irregular spasms of pleasure of your orgasm - but he holds you down only with one muscular arm.

Then he makes you cum twice, three times. Your arousal dripping as far as his wrists.

“Fuuuck, you’re so beautiful, songbird.” He admires how you catch up with your own breathing, checked out of any energy you had left - but you knew you didn’t want it to end here.

He’d be content with things taking a halt here, honored to have given pleasure to your woman, but you suddenly grab the hand he used to finger you relentlessly— sticking his fingers in your mouth like a fucking lollipop. It’s such a lewd sight, and it impossibly makes his cock even harder than he thought it could.

When you lick his fingers clean of your own arousal, you look him so dead in the eyes. “Can I please suck your cock?” You ask, although surprised when you feel him through his underwear - how massively long and thick he felt already.

Given any other time than now, he would say yes. Already listing off the times he’d want you to suck him dry, but now, he was impatient.

“Some other time baby, I need to be inside you.” He gives you permission to take his boxers off and you do.

Your suspicions are proven to be an underestimation of how big he is, because he was really - intimidatingly huge. You mindlessly stroke his cock, lubricating his length with the precum already leaking from his tip.

“Oh, God. Mingyu, I need you inside me please.” You say, and his face contorts into that of a wince from the sudden pleasure of your stroking and the dirty dirty words coming out of your mouth. “Need you to stuff me full.”

“That’s it.” He comments, using his strength to manhandle you onto your back - you lay on your bed with your arms pinned above your head, him on top of you. Your legs naturally spreading open to accommodate his body just settling in the middle.

“My pretty little thing has a dirty little mouth,” he traces your lips, a darkened look in his eyes. Mingyu begins stroking himself now, lining his thick tip to the entrance of your pussy and it already stings. “Saying all that in your sweet voice too, telling me to stuff you full.”

Before he can enter you he suddenly curses under his breath. “Fuck, baby, do you have any condoms?” He looks like his mood is almost ruined as his hair flips back in frustration, but you steady him back by placing your hands on his broad shoulders so he can look at you.

“It’s fine, I’m on birth control, and I’m clean. If you’re clean and you don’t mind being inside me raw, that’s fine by me.” You explain, and even the way that you even mention him being inside you riles him up again.

“I am, you have no idea how many times we have to get tested in this line of work.” He mutters. “Needle exposure.”

You lean upward quickly to place a peck on his lips.

“Come on, don’t make me wait. I told you I need you to stuff my pussy full of your cock.” It’s the sweetest dirtiest thing he hears when the melody of your voice mixes with your choice of words.

“Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you, sweet songbird.” Is all he says when he guides half of his length inside you, and the pulsating sensation of your own pussy accommodating the stretch of your walls makes it feel like he did not prepare you enough.

Tears well in your eyes, not expecting it to hurt this much - but not expecting it to feel this good either.

“God, oh dear God, you’re so big— Mingyu.” It’s a mixture of a sob and a moan. You can’t even focus on how hard he’s staring at you, absorbing each staggered breath and how your pussy lips seem to swell at his cock still pushing in.

“You can take it baby, I know you can.” He pushes in some more until he bottoms out, reaching a hilt inside you. It’s so hard for him to control himself because you’re so wet and warm, and so fucking tight.

But for you, he can be patient.

It’s you that initiates the first movements, lifting your own hips and hooking your legs just behind his ass - almost like locking yourself to him.

For him, you cannot wait anymore.

You push your hips back only a little, moving just to feel the sensation of him rocking inside of you.

“We’re a little impatient, aren’t we?” He grunts as you continue, frustrated that you can’t move far enough to get his cock to plunge into you far and as deep as you know he can.

“Puh—uh-please!” You’re frustrated, and he doesn’t miss how your brows knit and your lips part in such a lewd fucking plea. In fact, his view of your breasts delicately jouncing as your try to move and get any friction from your lewd attachment is riling him up more than you realize.

Mingyu abruptly digs his fingers into your thighs, halting your movements.

A forceful thrust rips through your pussy when he leaves so much as a tip and slams into you, and you mewl.

“You.” He thrusts once. “Have.” Another. “Got.” Another. “Me.” Another. “Going.” Another. “Crazy.”

He lifts one of your legs straight up into the air, the shift making him feel even deeper inside you. And it is absolutely erotic when he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath around your ankle, caressing your bare leg that he’s hooking behind his head.

You almost look frail perched up against him in this angle; his well-built body seemingly engulfing yours and the sheer massive size of him pounding into you relentlessly as sweat beads down to the tips of his hair. He just keeps going, his hips a piston charging into you with such force that it unravels lewd sounds from you until the strain in your throat is obvious.

It’s even harder to catch up with the breaths you’re taking with your open mouth, but your pleasure mirrors his.

He’s determined to make you cum again when his thumbs find the nub of your clit while he maintains his momentum. “That’s it.” Mingyu is satisfied when you squirm, trying to stop him, “you have one more in you for me, baby.” He pressed his thumb even harder and you almost want to bite down on your arm.

Head molding into the pillow as you thrash around, the high coming in unexpectedly as he puts you in a precarious position - folding you almost in half with your legs pressed against your upper half.

“Mingyu— ah, I-I can’t anymore—ah!” You plead, but you know you don’t actually want him to stop.

Continuing to stimulate your clit, you know you’re about to cum again. “Give me one more baby,” he bites his lip to suppress his own groans, because he can feel you wrap and tremble so tightly around his cock that he’s plunging even harder into you, “cum around me, cum around my fucking cock while I’m inside you.”

This has you going, about to reach your peak, “I’m gonna… I’m gonna!” You almost scream, but as he feels that tightening coil begin he moves down to kiss you.

You unravel with a kiss, spasming around him as you reach for his muscular back to get him to pause and give you time to recover from the ongoing pulsating pleasure.

But he keeps on going, pulling away from the kiss, swearing he’s going crazy as you’re clamping down on him.

“Inside me, Mingyu, finish inside me.” You beg in sobs, but you look him to straight in the eyes with your dilated ones. Pupils so honest, so lost in pleasure.

“Fuck.” He says. “Say that again and I’ll fill you the fuck up.”

God, he’s so hot like this. How can you say no?

“Please Mingyu, I want you cumming inside of me.” You say, and he picks up a pace you did not know to be possible. “Fill me up, baby.”

He swears he can almost imagine it, filling you up so good and so full of his pleasure.

“Fuuuck. I’m going to cum inside you.” Mingyu says it as if saying it will seal the truth of it happening. It takes a few more moments, you clinging onto him for dear life, and he finally reaches his peak.

There, coming undone, spilling his load of cum inside you. You can feel the pulsating mess of his cock, and you squeeze even harder as he twitches. Mingyu might see stars after this, but right now - still inside you - he looks at you with warmth and admiration. A stark contrast from the intensity of his lust moments before.

The man falls lightly atop you, enveloping you in a naked embrace of steam and sweat— his deep manly scent even stronger to your nostrils. You take each other in.

“I don’t typically do this.” He admits when you find yourself playing with the ends of his hair.

“What do you mean, you don’t just give girls the best fuck of their life after having drinks for the first time?” You tease him again, but you only receive a chuckle of disbelief.

“Hate to honestly openly inform you that I did tend to fuck around before, songbird.” He says and you don’t really mind it. “But I don’t usually fuck on the first date when it comes to ladies I really really want to impress.” He nuzzles into your neck to hide his embarrassment, and now you’re not so sure that this was the same man of mystery and intimidation you thought he was.

“What’s with you and trying to impress me so much?”

“Am I not allowed to feel that way?” He quips, and this has you unimpressed but laughing anyway.

“You’re having my head in for a spin, you know? Just coming in out of nowhere telling me all these things I don’t know how to count for.” It feels comfortable to be honest around him, especially with his hands on you - rubbing small shapes in.

“I’m telling you,” he whispers, propping his chin around your chest to face you properly, “I’m sincere about you.”

You try your best to place a kiss to his forehead, giving him a smile.

“I know you are.”

The affair is fast paced, no warning signs and no inhibitions - just pure unadulterated dedication.

You get to know more of him, learning that he’s more than a perceptive man: in fact he pays attention to so much detail that it feels like he lives in your own mind. He’s attentive, patient, and he always lets you finish what you want to say— Mingyu even knows what you’re saying without you having to say a word of anything. Simple sighs and gestures and he’s gravitating to anything to appease your every need.

The mix of it all is impeccable, he tries so hard to please you - to impress you. But he fucks you so hard and so good that it almost feels like in those moments where he’s buried so deep inside you that he hates you. It’s the type of sex that feels almost disrespectful, but you were not in any position (literally) to complain.

To his defense, there’s no proper gage or comparison to your exhibitions. It’s almost like he wants to do and outdo everything every time. He’s bent you over backwards your kitchen counter, even living up to his promise of fucking you against your hallway walls. You’ve been at his place, impressed at how large the townhouse was - but he convinced you that real selling point was having to fuck you against any doable surface, and an added bonus if he could fill you up each time.

Mingyu’s also had you in the back of the sleek black car right after one of your shows, not caring at all that anybody wise enough to stare more than five seconds would definitely notice the fogged up windows and the car violently moving despite it being parked.

It’s only a miracle that you could sing the same way on stage, already having a taste of his cock many times after he promised you could suck him off— which meant that you did test your limits by having him hit so deep into your throat because you loved it when he called you his little slut. And that meant that you wanted to please him anytime you felt the warmth blossom in your chest.

But he did retaliate, you couldn’t even count the amount of times he’s ripped through your stockings just so he can get his vulgar tongue as deep and as wet as possible to lap up at your pussy. You remember holding the hand railings of the stairs to the emergency exit of your apartment building, trying hard not to add to the sound of his slurping because anyone could come in at anytime.

He’s the exact opposite of what you expected: a warm person compared to the secret life you know he lives in his line of work. If there was anything that did bother you even just a little bit, was how calculated he seemed to be.

Sure, he was very particularly punctual, but you did notice a routine.

You didn’t count on him catching on that you too were perceptive; running away from your past did not mean that you let go of every single characteristic that hardened your character.

There’s a pattern you notice after a week of dating Mingyu: you can never get him available in the afternoons. At first, you slip into late nights - bodies wrapped together until the morning broke, but he would always be neatly polished before noon came around and he’d be out any door— be it your apartment or his house.

It doesn’t bother you of course, be it as it may. Whatever his set-up was still considered a profession, though not one so dignified as maybe a doctor or a lawyer.

The pattern breaks one Tuesday morning however, when he gets out of bed after a series of knocks to your door. You knew better than not to be alert, sleeping at his house and hearing all the loud knocking - but you had to pretend it did not affect your slumber.

You feel Mingyu take a good glance at you, and sigh to himself as he puts on some pajama bottoms and answers the door.

When you’re sure the number of creaky steps he takes to get down are correct, listening intently to the thumping footsteps - you try to get to the window of his bedroom to take a look at the street below.

A black hearse is parked outside, and you can almost make out the person waiting at the driver’s seat. But it’s Vernon’s voice that allows you to know exactly who’s making rounds to pick Mingyu up.

“Hate to take you away from your honeymoon.” Vernon jokes, and you know that they’re talking about your relationship. “I can smell her perfume on you too, you know.”

Mingyu chuckles, as if it’s no big deal that you’re a topic of the conversation, telling you that he must be good friends with Vernon - the same person Minnie mentioned delivered those flowers to the club. It did not take a rocket scientist for you to figure out that they were both from SVT.

“She’s not exactly my lady yet,” Mingyu admits, and you have to agree, “but I’m getting there. Or at least I hope so. And yeah, I tell her all the time that perfume might get her in trouble— but it drives me crazy just being able to smell her around. I’m like a fucking dog.”

You can even hear the playful shove Vernon gives Mingyu, the two of them chuckling now like two school boys. A stark contrast to whatever it was they were really getting to, your mind trying to go over any clue you knew about their organization - but you were blanking right now.

Anyone at the Rouge did not speak so much about SVT, and you felt a little wary.

“It’s just that Cheol wanted to make sure you were alright, the guys over at Hoshi’s were almost bulleted to shreds last night— we’re lucky Woozi intercepted about the raid and got them out of the warehouse by the dock before anyone could open fire.” Vernon says, changing the atmosphere of the conversation.

Mingyu hums, it sounds like he’s deep in thought, “they probably know I’m back.”

“Oh, they do.” Vernon affirms, “but they want all of us to pick sides.”

“And should I be scared?” Mingyu almost laughs, and it’s not because he’s entertained.

“Of course not brother, you know we’ve got your back.”

“Thought so, got me worried there Vern.” The clicking of a lighter is heard, and the smell of smoke travels quickly. You duck your head back, recoiling from the smell having invaded your lungs too early for your liking - but your palms land at a strange wooden plank on the floor.

It takes a trained eye to notice that it’s made to look as old as the other wooden planks lining the room floor, and it’s something you spot quickly. softly tapping on the board to notice that it echoes only slightly as if hollow inside. You lightly press around the edges, and with the right balance of force— it lifts open without a sound.

Inside, you notice a metal utility box, but underneath are manila envelopes - organized in a manner you cannot quite decipher yet.

“Let’s just finish these sticks, and I’ll let you get back to your missus.” Vernon says, and you keep the floor board closed for now. Not wanting to mind it at the moment - but now scratching at the back of your mind.

What was in there?

“You better keep making those jokes, I'm enjoying getting teased for once.” Mingyu’s enjoying Vernon’s teasing, and it’s pretty clear in his tone. “I’m convinced that this girl is the one.” Your chest tightens, and it’s both because you feel the same but there’s also an unexplainable fear there. He may be genuine, but there was so much you did not know.

It had you wondering if both of you could peel back all the layers of secrecy, one day being completely transparent with each other.

“You don’t have to worry about her. She’s the songbird at the club, no one will go after her.” Vernon almost says it as if he’s easing his friend’s mind, “Neutral territory.”

Sure, it seems good that Vernon doesn’t suspect you. Or at least, none of them do.

“Not until I marry her, you know. Neutrality will fly out the window.”

You hear Mingyu get smacked, his cry of pain already distinct. This thing he says has your heart up to your throat, he was thinking so far ahead and your mind hadn't even wandered there yet.

“You haven’t even seen her that long— hell, I’ve seen her on stage longer than you’ve been playing house!” Vernon scolds him, “you haven’t even introduced her to us properly. Hey, is this was brothers do? Just casually say they want to marry someone?”

“Okay okay okay, just give me more time. Can’t I fall in love in peace?” Mingyu defends himself, and you can’t help but feel so warm inside when he openly admits this.

“For you and this mess we’re in, I’m afraid that’s a privileged option to have any peace at all.” Vernon says, and it’s almost a cue for you to get back to bed before Mingyu can come back.

If you were curious before, you were itching to know more by now.

“So now you want to know?” Jennie asks you, it’s only a few hours before the Rouge opens and she’s working a shift behind the bar - cleaning the drinking glasses as you sit by one of the bar stools.

“You’re the one who told me to be safe, were you not?” You beg her, with the best cute voice you can pull off. “You can’t tell me that and leave me in the dark— you know how secretive their group can be.”

“Yeah well, no shit are they secretive.” She nods her head.

“So you’ll tell me?”

Jennie sighs. “You’re lucky I love you. That, and you’re lucky Woozi and I are… somewhat close.”

“Well?”

“Well, a year before you came to this town everyone did not like each other - you know, territorial claims on the business district. Who owned which street, who protected the other. They still kind of don’t like each other but now I’d guess that since Mingyu came back, it feels like all the people coming in the club are almost friendly.”

“Why’s that?” You ask her.

“Couple of bigger groups from a way’s over from here thought it would be funny to bring in opioids and other cracked up drugs into this town - and if there’s something that all the groups here in this town don’t like. It’s that. They can brawl and fight, make a big show about having bigger guns— but having regular people drugged out? No. Everyone here’s afraid of what petty addiction can do, but these days the drugs are circling around our district. No one knows where it’s coming in from.”

It triggers a terrible memory in you, but you just nod and let her finish.

“So, you want to know about your lover boy?” She offers, obviously giving up from gatekeeping any more information from you.

“Obviously.” You are able to say in a forced breath.

“Mingyu’s always been good to everyone, don’t get me wrong— SVT as a whole are well liked because they all have friends from all different groups, but Mingyu is in deeper than most of them.”

“Should that make me feel like I’m naive?” It makes you wonder aloud but your friend offers a good smile.

“No. He’s a good guy from what I know. Grew up normal, exceptional, good family, good school, the works. Almost too good really, kind of feels like he doesn’t belong in this world.” She says it like she’s realizing it just now. “Actually, he’s just too good that he kind of does blend in.”

“But why is he so different from everyone else then?”

Her smile fades, “he disappears a lot, Y/N. You should know that. Just gets up and exits this town from God-knows-where, and whenever he comes back from some random place in Europe or wherever it is he does business - he comes back just fortifying the standing of SVT.”

“When’s the longest he’s gone?”

“The year you moved in and settled?” Jennie thinks back, “I think you arrived here a few days after he left.” The coincidence has you questioning it too, but Jennie speaks up again. “Hey, all I know is, people around him respect him enough— and it looks like he has a reason to stick around.”

She points her index finger straight toward you, almost like an accusation, and instead of glowering at that you find yourself in a deeper hole than from when you started.

Mingyu never once mentions or makes you feel like he was the huge deal that Jennie had detailed to you he was.

But in this dimly lit restaurant, you can tell that he’s receiving special treatment from the staff. Expensive wine already prepared in a gold-plated ice bucket, and complimentary cuts of cheese flowing in without even a word of instruction from him.

“Something on your mind?” He asks you, and now you know it’s evident how you’ve spaced out.

“Just you.” You respond, and the biggest smile just paints his face. It’s strange how your heart jumps out of your chest still; this thing has been going on for almost a month now and it still feels like you’re always so peckish around him.

Always feeling like a schoolgirl, always having your heart thump so loud, always wanting more.

“Oh I better be.” He says. “Since we’re on the topic of me on your mind, I actually meant to ask you something.”

You dread this, the way his voice softens and how he looks down at his plate like it’s scaring him to ask you directly. It was so unlike him.

“Are you going to ask me about moving the chair in my room? I know you always bring up how you seem to trip over it.” You lighten the mood, and it works.

“No, I wanted to ask you if you could be my date to the Mayor’s Banquet, actually.” He blurts out, and this typically gruff man seems so small now.

You’ve been going out to town together publicly already, comfortable with everyone knowing you had something going on. So the answer was obvious, and you wonder why he was even asking.

“Of course I’ll come with you, why wouldn’t I?” You reach for his hand resting on the table, and he seems to melt under your touch.

“I just wanted you to be prepared because some of the guys are going to share the same table as us, and I just wanted them to properly meet my significant other.” He just called you his significant other, “and I didn’t want you to feel like I was blindsiding you.”

“Oh Mingyu, you think of me too much.” It’s endearing, really.

“But as my girlfriend, you’re coming with me as my girlfriend— only if you’ve made up your mind. Or is this the most unromantic way to ask?" Is what he says in a hurry, before settling to his wine. The two of you never really got to touch on labels, something that didn’t feel necessary. You were in each other’s lives routinely at this point, doing everything but making things official.

It’s no longer a question, really. You thought he knew you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“Aren’t I already your girlfriend?” You tease him, “I probably read all the signs wrong then.” You can tell he wants to kiss you right now, but he’s holding himself back.

“Sorry, my sweet sweet girlfriend.” He says in disbelief almost.

“Yes, my sweet sweet boyfriend.”

In one of the finer sides of town, where a massive hotel is perched to accommodate large groups of tourists and host grand conventions, is where the banquet is being held. Though this is mind-blowing-ly out of place for any choice of itinerary you may have, it seems your preferences are already changing to accommodate the man in your life.

It’s all so already too snooty, too rich for you. Politicking in any way, shape, or form was something you wanted to avoid— and you found that this banquet was not about the Mayor’s speech at all.

It was about… politicking. That, on top of drinking and meandering.

It’s a relief that you were going to meet Mingyu’s ‘brothers,’ as he liked to describe them on the way here. Except the people you were meant to meet didn’t want to be early enough to stick around for the initial pleasantries, making you look forward to the dinner portion of the banquet to meet them at the large circular dining table instead.

It’s Wonwoo, Vernon, and Sungcheol who accompany you— already greeting you (or really, Mingyu) with teasing smiles. Very well suited up like how you usually saw them.

“Hello.” Sungcheol initiates, reaching out to offer you a hand, “so you’re the one softening our muscleman?”

You shake his hand back politely, “I don’t think we have to act like complete strangers.” This makes him laugh.

“We know you of course - the only voice we ever look forward hearing on Saturdays.” Vernon pipes up, and Mingyu seems already unpleased.

“Now, you’re not allowed to say that about my girl.” Mingyu tuts, and everyone laughs.

“Cut them some slack, Gyu. I’ve seen them at the club for longer than I’ve seen you!” You defend his friends, and he looks almost betrayed.

“Nice to finally be acquainted with you.” Wonwoo is the next to offer you a hand, and Sungcheol finds it in him to already comment.

“You know, Y/N, Wonwoo here is sort of like… Gyu’s ex-wife.” He shares, Vernon is already holding in his laughter.

“Close.” Wonwoo nods, “more like inseparable roommates, that was before he moved out into the big world and decided to kick me to the curb. Apparently I’m not good enough for a big town house.” You know Wonwoo to typically be the type to nod in silence and not at all touch an alcoholic beverage at the Rouge, but you were surprised to find him chatty.

You look at Mingyu who looks like he’s been disarmed defenseless, but you poke at his torso and flash him a smile. “Maybe I should be getting jealous then?”

“Maybe just a little,” he pouts, “enough to console me.”

“Don’t fall for it, Y/N. He hardly deserves it.” Vernon says but you shake your head and wrap your arm around Mingyu’s.

“Sorry, I can’t do that to my guy.” You smile at all of them, and you can feel the way Mingyu’s heart thumps. The arm you have in your grip is just held tighter, and you’re both just glad this is going better than you expected.

The three men coo, and you decide to finally settling into your table. But Wonwoo stays right behind to whisper something into your ear.

“You love him?” He asks, head tilted toward pointing to Mingyu who’s already in conversation with Sungcheol and Vernon.

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” You admit quickly, and this seems to please him.

“Do you trust him?” Is his next question, and this time there’s a pause in the air - but he seems to understand your hesitation. “You don’t have to admit to that if you don’t want to.” Wonwoo offers you a look for comfort. Your mind goes back to Jennie, the floorboards in his house - how he never got around to once opening up to you about what he did on a regular basis.

But here he was, introducing you to the people in his life. Parading you around town as a girlfriend.

“I guess you understand.” It’s already unspoken, but he agrees.

“I’m not telling you that you have to force yourself to believe me, but you should… Trust him, I mean.” He says as you two make your way near your table before anyone notices how long you’ve been talking.

“I’ll remember it was his ex-wife that told me to.” You laugh, and this seems to please him, a laugh is shared between the two of you.

Mingyu has been staring at the two of you settle down, wondering why you had a separate conversation and why he only noticed as you were about to finish— but Wonwoo gives him a knowing look and he catches a bit of your last sentence to know whatever it was… was probably in good faith.

“I like your friends.” You tell Mingyu, who looks a little surprised.

“They like you too.” He says low enough for only you to hear.

The banquet seems to go by smoothly now that you have three new characters to converse with, it feels a bit like you’re less alone in gawking at all the sparkled and well-made-up crowd. There’s now company for you in looking at this strange display of power and wealth from the outside.

Mingyu excuses himself when some staff call for his attention, cautiously approaching the table the five of you occupied. It seemed everyone got the memo; nobody was approaching your table in particular— keeping a good two yard circumference from where you sat. Like there was an invisible forcefield preventing them from socializing with any of you.

So it does seem strange when Mingyu stands to leave, being escorted to the Mayor’s table.

From where you sit, you can see him so clearly. An advantage to his tall build was how he seemed to tower over everyone, and in that moment he looked like he properly blent in with all of this.

He shakes hands with everyone at the Mayor’s table, pleasantries are obviously exchanged and Mingyu seems to wear a smile with ease. Bowing, nodding, approving having his photo taken with the Mayor by the in-house photographer and some from the local paper.

Was this not out of standard protocol?

Your questioning eyes don’t go unnoticed, Wonwoo who’s been observing you speaks up.

“Trust me, we’re still getting used to being part of his world.” He says, adjusting his glasses to also give a glance to Mingyu.

“And this is normal?” You ask Wonwoo, and he knows well enough that you’re referring to the strange scene at the front of the hall.

What was Mingyu doing?

“Nothing in Mingyu’s life is,” Wonwoo sighs, looking at the wristwatch he sported, “but then again it’s not like we lead such normal lives either, now do we?”

It’s something that catches you by surprise when he asks, but with a nervous swallowing of the lump that formed in your throat you have to agree. You’re simply inclined to.

Wonwoo’s not finished talking though, and maybe this was his way of comforting you - no matter how harsh it may be. “Think of it this way, he’s the one putting up a performance on stage this time. You just have to understand that it does all of us less harm than if he didn’t.”

Your wine glass was still significantly full, but you take it by the stem and take it all in one go. Wonwoo is surprised, but it’s your turn to assure him that it’s okay.

“You told me to trust him, right?“ You say. “I’ll trust him.”

As you say this, Mingyu along with the Mayor and other notable local faces in town have already gone up into a private room, and it doesn’t evade your gaze at all. Leaving you wondering what there was to talk about that was so important.

But you had to trust him, even if it meant that you hardly trusted yourself.

“I’m sorry I had to leave you with the guys back there for a bit, I hope it didn’t feel like you were babysitting.” Mingyu tells you, the two of you leaning on the handrails of his balcony.

“No, not at all. They’re pleasant people, your friends.” You say as he puts his suit jacket over your bare shoulders, making you quick to hug it over your body to prevent it from falling.

He wraps his big strong arms around you next, the wind cooing in as the cold is battled away by the nearness of your bodies. Mingyu whispers something about your perfume, and it makes you giggle - momentarily leaving tingles around your own body.

“I love you.” He whispers, it’s the first time he says it, and he hopes that hiding behind your hair can save him the embarrassment.

Your muscles tense, surprised at the confession. You know you love him too, but it’s extremely difficult to admit that you’re completely in love with a man you know has secrets. You could be selfish too. It’s the same reason why you moved to start fresh in this town, but the world had other plans when Mingyu entered your life.

It’s like you cannot escape your past at all.

But you cannot betray your own heart like this, not when the month you’ve spent loving this man has been nothing but pure bliss. It’s not just about the amazing fucking, or the immediate longing when you haven’t been enveloped in his embrace for more than a few hours.

It was the doting, the loving in silent remembering. How you fell into instant melodic routine— how you did not have to say anything at all to know it clicked. It simply worked. Beyond who you were and what secrets you both did not divulge, it truly felt like you found another part of your soul you hadn’t known was ripped away from you.

He didn’t make your life feel like how it had been. Like running away. Pretending you were fine with the monotonous routine: doing piles of laundry, not being able to properly eat by yourself, prettying yourself up to sing at the club— only looking forward to weekends to feel like you were somebody. Like you were alive. Instead he had you yearning for everyday, knowing that there would be a better version of yourself to be learnt in love.

You loved him too, and the realization has you terrified.

A tear falls from your eye, and it does not go unnoticed by Mingyu.

“What’s wrong?” He panics, but he only gently expresses this. There was horror in hearing that you did not love him back, but nothing scared him more than the sight of you even shedding a single tear because of him.

“I just—“ you gasp in some hair, “I just… I love you too, that’s all.” You bring a hand to find his arm, clasping on it.

Turning to face him now, he meets your gaze for a kiss. It’s so different from any kiss you’ve had before, now your body completely turns to accommodate what’s transpiring.

Your hands finding the back of his neck and some fingers tangle up in his hair. His own hands find their way to your back and your waist, pushing you in closer to him if that could even be possible.

“Say that again, please.” He asks you.

You deliver a small peck to his lips again before pulling away, “I said, I love you.”

“God. I love you.” He kisses you. “I love you.”

You’re lead into his room, away from the cold of the late night. It’s not so foreign to you, how these nights go. Scary how easy it is to kiss his lips, indulge in the fine way his body had been built the way it is.

By this point, you know he welcomes you gawking at his naked figure. Mingyu wasn’t shy of showing off; you figured out pretty early on that he was comfortable walking around without a shirt on when the two of you were at each other’s places. You weren’t complaining though, you’d literally be an ingrate to do that.

So when his shirt comes off in a frenzy of passionate kissing, so does your dress. You did joke several times that you felt almost like a mannequin for his reflex training, because he somehow always managed to get you undressed so quickly without making such a fuss out of it.

This time you can’t tease him, the love inside you almost making you burst.

“I love you.” He says it again, kissing at your neck as he moves down to make a trail to your collarbones and your chest.

“How much do you love me?”

He likes that you ask this, for him it feels like a challenge— one he can prove with his big rough hands tracing at the very lateral sides where the curves of your bust flow into the curve of your hips. It’s almost choreographed when he lays you onto his bed, spreading your legs wide like a present only for him to open.

“I love you so much that I only want this to be the air that I breathe.” Mingyu finally answers you this way when his breath fans over your spread pussy. He kisses the insides of your thighs before he sucked on your clit.

Mingyu was a generous lover— making sure you got your fill of pleasure all the time was something of second nature to him. If someone was pussy-obsessed, then that was the only correct way for him to be described when it came to you.

It’s messy this time: the way that he eats you out. Pressing against the back of your thighs to keep you in place, not caring just how sloppy or messy he’s getting you. And you can feel how wet everything is getting, when he fingers his spit into your hole - your arousal and all that drool from his mouth just mixing.

When Mingyu curls his fingers in the way he knows to get you to make those sounds he very much likes, you try your hardest not to shit your eyes and almost scream in pleasure. You want this moment to be special because your love confession warrants it, but it’s so hard to focus on his knitted eyebrows when he’s hitting all the right fucking nerves.

You pant, the dryness of the ventilated air through your mouth was definitely going to be an issue later - but you brush it off because he’s looking straight at you as his tongue his pressed so flat up against your pussy. He takes a hand out to intertwine it with with yours— the eye contact and everything he’s doing with your tongue just building up enough stimulation that you begin to feel the same pulsing sensation he’s just so good at giving you.

“Gonna. Cum.” You tell him, and there’s almost a smirk on his mouth. But you can’t handle it this time because he goes even faster, even when you squirm and dig your hands into his hair. He’s the one to groan and keeps on going, already feeling the familiar taste of your cum.

The sounds you make when you reach your own climax are one of the things Mingyu tells you he lives for these days— telling you there’s no sound quite like it. So when your head thrashes around to the side, he takes the hand once intertwined with yours and reaches to keep your face up at him.

He’s only capable of doing so because his frame was massive compared to yours, and you absolutely did not mind when he made you feel that he towered over you.

“Always so good to me.” He says, kissing around your stomach. “Feels like I’ll never be able to deserve it.” A kiss to your breasts, kissing at the hardened nipples. “But here you are giving yourself to me, telling me you love me.” You moan when he circles his tongue around one nipple as he gropes your other breast. “Fuck.”

“Kiss me, Mingyu.” You’re able to steady a hand, still feeling like jelly from your high, to lift his chin to face you. He’s so stupidly handsome. Hair just falling to frame his face — puppy dog orbs just staring up at you. As he hadn’t gone down on you just now.

And so he does, like his life depends on the gift of your lips.

You push him off, something that still manages to surprise him when you have sex. Taking command was something you did not outwardly desire to do when you wanted to, but when you get down on your knees and nicely guide him to sit so you can suck him off - all he can do is comply.

“You don’t have to do this for me, baby.” He winces when you lick a stripe over his long hard cock, your trail of saliva barely covering enough to compensate for the girth of him. Mingyu was truly built long and large, everywhere.

“I want to.” You say, kissing at his pink tip, precum already leaking from the slit.

You don’t mind how Mingyu tastes, in fact if you were to be honest - you really liked it. So when you lay your tongue out flat to accommodate swallowing him into your mouth until his tip reached the back of tour throat, it’s all in good pleasure to have your eyes well up with tears.

When he groans and moans above you, trying his best not to push you down any further. This stretch of your mouth, and the way you salivate all over his cock, is all worth it. Even as tears fall down to your cheeks as you bob your head up and down, gagging each time the length challenged your throat— the sounds he makes and the way he trembles makes it so rewarding.

You keep going, until you notice the way he falters, gritting his teeth so close together that you can hear the way his molars click.

“Fuck, baby. How are you so good to me?” He moans out, “my pretty little songbird taking me so well in her pretty little mouth.”

Mingyu loves this, you know he does. In all the naked glory of his head tilted so you can see the perfect outline of his nose bridge, his thick eyebrows, and his defined jaw going slack. But you know he doesn’t want to finish like this, though he has plenty of times finished in your mouth - this time is different. You know he’s made up his mind when he holds you by your temples, making you stop.

The way his weight falls upon you is one of your favorite things, it feels like he envelopes you. You feel every muscle, every hot plane of skin just above you.

He kisses you once more, his tongue so diligent. Collecting your moans as he multitasks between your mouth and aligning his cock to your entrance. You’ll never get used to him, his sheer size. But something new this time is how he seems almost careful, gentler than you’ve ever felt him fuck you.

“So so good to me— so good.” He says, but you’re too lost in pleasure to utter a word - almost gasping in your sounds. His hands find their way to intertwine into yours again, somehow it’s second nature for you to reach out to each other.

You know you love him, and it’s not about the sex. You feel it. You’ve never felt a feeling so tangible before.

Mingyu knows which spots to hit now, making good memories of which parts of your body were most sensitive. He loved having you responsive, and you were so pliable to his love.

“I love you.” You whisper, and you mean it. It’s so difficult to find it in you to speak, especially when you let him have you like this.

He kisses you in response, his expressions are so soft and yet so sharply focused on you. “I love you too.”

He works hard to chase your high, no matter how easy it is for him to unravel at your sweet warm tightness. You don’t remember how you get to finish— but you do remember how fragile you feel when he wraps his arms around you as you come undone. Becoming putty in his grip as you postively vibrate in your own body.

Mingyu asks if he can fill you up and cum inside you, waiting for you to make a clear response despite the haze of pleasure you were in. And you let him.

It’s the most emotional you feel after sex, and he has you breathless. He leaves you only shortly to get a clean towel to get you settled for sleep, and though you know the relationship is set on the right path - your mind goes to the wooden floor boards.

And what secrets could lie underneath.

You do not notice him leave in the early morning, but he wakes you up around midday.

Already dressed in his finest, Mingyu looks like he does when you know he’s gone off to ‘work,’ whatever the nature of that may be. But today you’re surprised by something new in his appearance.

“Good morning.” He sends a sheepish grin to your sleepy eyes, walking over to your side of the bed where he can sit.

“You cut it.” You reach out to him, touching the now shorter ends of his hair.

“Do you like it?” He looks worried that you don’t.

“Well,” you purse your lips to pretend that you’re unsure, and he looks so obviously worried. “I haven’t seen you with anything but your long hair.” You say, hand mindlessly in his hair.

“I can grow it out if you want me to—“

You take both palms to his cheeks to get better leverage when you press a kiss to his mouth. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it, I’m just surprised you’re still as handsome with short hair.” You laugh.

Mingyu smiles that same toothy one you’ve gotten used to.

“Wish I could stay longer, baby, but there are errands I have to run.” He takes both your hands in his before he stands up. “You can stay as long as you want, this is as much your place as it is mine.” He says, hovering around the doorframe.

“Alright.” You say, sitting upright on the bed.

“I love you, I’ll see you later.” And he goes wherever it is he’s supposed to.

This becomes normal for the next few weeks. Mingyu just running in and out of the house at strange times, far from the original pattern you noticed. He tries his best to hide things from you— soiled bloodied clothes going straight to the laundry room before you can catch a glance. But you’re quick to see them when he leaves the house.

You barely get to spend much time with him, between the Mayor’s Banquet and your love confession, it feels like he’s operating on an entirely different planet from the period you had started the relationship. Mingyu insists you stay over more often, but it doesn’t exactly mean that he’d be there at his house to spend time with you.

Somehow, it feels lonelier.

It’s his first Saturday missing out on watching you sing at the club.

Mingyu told you he’d be there tonight, but it was an unspoken promise for him to be anyway. He just told you that he’d be around for the show the same time he always did, but your set was about to come to an end and he still wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

In fact, the entire table SVT typically occupied was empty. No familiar soul at all.

“Thank you very much, you’ve all been such darlings tonight.” You say your ending spiel, trying your best to look the same you usually did— but the problem was that you felt disgusting inside.

You were angry, sad, confused. The empty table was staring back at you, and you already felt defeated. Hell, you didn’t even know what was even going on.

Charging away from the stage, you go backstage to gather your things. You decided you were leaving, you didn’t want to stick around for a drink to see if any one of them were coming in. It seemed that this was your breaking point, all the running around and hiding had finally caught up to you and you felt like something was going to go horribly wrong.

You’ve felt this feeling before, and the ending was not one you liked.

The rush of all your emotions doesn’t give you a good recollection of how you end up back at Mingyu’s house, heart breaking at the cold and now more dark looking living space. The same way you left it in the afternoon, no trace of him coming back between then and now.

Rain started pouring outside as if on cue to match the mood you were in, now every sound you made in this house was dampened by the competing rain drops outside.

The first thing you do is look for the luggage cases you brought into his home, slowly moving into his place over the time you’ve been together. It’s easy to spot, but a little difficult to get— placed on a shelf above a cupboard space, another reminder of Mingyu’s tall frame and how he can easily undertake this simple task that has you cry in frustration.

But you do get it, almost having the case fall at your feet. You stuff clothes into your luggage, not worrying about the way that you’re packing it all in unorganized.

It’s so hard to reach for things when you don’t have a proper sense of control over your body.

Any sane logical person would have waited it out, would have preferred not to overreact. But you had to admit that you were a flawed, slightly insane, and now very emotional person. And that meant that you trusted your foresight more than you wanted to.

The only thing thar breaks you away from your heavy-handed packing and sobbing was the sound of the front door opening so abruptly downstairs. The rain had been pouring too loud outside for you to even register anyone’s arrival.

You place a hand over your mouth, trying to silence yourself.

If it were Mingyu arriving home, you knew his gentle approach. Whoever this was… was not Mingyu, or at least you were certain that it wasn’t him opening the door.

What you do hear is the moving of furniture around the living room, and some panicked voices commanding each other. Some of these voices were familiar.

“Be fucking careful, man! We’re trying to save him, not fucking him up even more.” You hear Vernon say as you sneak by the stairs, trying to get a good view of the commotion.

From where you were, you saw the coffee table pushed away from the center of the living room - and the couch pushed up against the wall. None of them had bothered removing any of their shoes when they went in— traces of hurry left by the wet tracks of rain they brought in.

It’s no mistake that the groggy figure Wonwoo and Sungcheol are positioning down on the couch is Mingyu. Though he’s slumped, seemingly not in control of his own body, you were so perfectly familiar with the navy blue suit he wore this morning. But now that you cannot help but walk down the steps, a hand still clasped over your mouth but the tears still forming around the waterline of your eyes, you see that the suit is bloodied up - damped from the rain.

You almost trip over a small puddle on the floor, but Vernon catches you by the shoulders.

“Jesus.” Is all he can say, knowing what a wreck of a situation this is having you look already distraught.

Across you, Mingyu was breathing - but he didn’t seem to be conscious. You could see the gash resting a little atop his brow bone, but that was nothing compared to the excessive bleeding of his shoulders. The culprit a dark spot, large enough to accommodate a dime it seemed.

He was shot in the shoulder.

Just then another character enters the house, one with a compact leather case - a familiar Woozi closely following after him.

“About time you got here, Minghao.” Sungcheol addresses this man, and even though you want to stay laser focused on Mingyu - this Minghao hurriedly unpacks his things to reveal all sorts of medical equipment.

Only when your eyes dart around all six men in the living room do you notice how none of them are in the best shape. Fresh cuts and early forming bruises sported their knuckles and some areas of their faces that you could see. Only Mingyu had a bullet wound, and only this Minghao has no external injuries - but he looks as equally stressed out.

“It’s not like I can be here in a snap of a finger.” Minghao rolls his eyes, beckoning Woozi to help him prepare his tools.

“He fell on his side too, if that helps.” Wonwoo tells him, and Minghao nods hurriedly.

“‘Course it does.” With large scissors, they begin cutting around the shoulder line of Mingyu’s suit and undershirt, avoiding having to move his already shot shoulder that he apparently fell on too.

Vernon comes into your vision, albeit blurry from the tears you’re crying. “Hey, Y/N? I need you to be calm okay? Mingyu’s going to be fine.” Then you notice Sungcheol and Wonwoo look at you to respond to Vernon, but you keep your sights on Mingyu— whose bullet wound you see now as clear as day.

Was this how it was going to be?

The feeling of running away from a life that constantly scared you? And now, having someone worthwhile to care for - to love for, but at the risk of never knowing if they were safe?

You simply nod, still in tears, holding in the way you want to breathe so sporadically. Allowing Vernon to pat your back, as Sungcheol approaches to do the same.

It’s easy for you to go back upstairs and put back your things the way that they normally seemed; from then until the next three days— it seemed all the SVT members were taking rounds keeping Mingyu in what seemed to be their version of a hospital inside the living room on the first floor.

Minghao, you’d learned, was their in-house doctor. They did not have to explain how very necessary it was to have somebody around to mediate things of physical injury, but you figured it made sense. In all the seriously strange-for-you, but certainly not-so-strange-for-them manner of things.

It did not seem appropriate for you to leave Mingyu, not when you also took your time hovering around his not yet so responsive state. If everybody else had gone back home, or decided to take refuge in one of the guest bedrooms or one of the other couches - you found yourself doting on Mingyu. Hoping he’d do more than wince at the antiseptics used to clean his wounds, or mumble, nod, and groggily comply if he was moved around to go to the bathroom or have a wash up. He couldn’t even eat so properly yet. Not that you noticed.

Mingyu is almost functional after five days.

Almost is quite loose, actually. He can barely reach for anything beyond a 90 degree angle, but he was lucky his towering height could compensate.

The two of you have barely had a proper conversation, never talking directly about why he got shot in the shoulder - not once mentioning what happened that evening. It bothers you that you don't get much out of him - not even about why he had to had to have a private conversation with the Mayor, where he usually disappeared to, and what got him to get shot.

Only tiptoeing around his injury, things around the house, and getting over the silence of being left alone again when the other boys decided that you two could manage without them. He could barely look you in the eye, although you had slept in the same bed— there was nothing more than his arm draped around your waist in slumber. No more than an embrace was shared, and you knew it was not normal.

So when you see him dress up in another one of his suits, you’re gobsmacked with disappointing astonishment.

“You’re leaving?” You ask him as you stalk around the door way to the closet door where he was adjusting his tie. He seems stunned to see you there, and you can tell that he doesn’t know what to say or if any reason he can give you may be convincing enough.

“I’ll be back, don’t worry.” He rushes to place a kiss on your forehead, “I’ll see you tonight.” Is the last thing he says before he leaves you.

That was also the last thing he said the night he didn’t show up to the club.

You did not have it in you to fight him, to run down the driveway of his lawn and try to sway him to tell you what was going on that was worth risking his life for. That part of you already dissipated the night you almost packed up and left.

Mingyu already seemed determined, too passive to feel like he needed to explain. You could tell that his mind was anywhere else than with you, and it lead you to believe that the answers you longed for from him could be found under the floorboards.

Just looming around the back of your mind waiting to be revealed.

Tonight. He’d be back tonight.

It was only an hour before noon now, and it meant you had plenty of time until he’d be home. That gave you more than enough time.

It is not exactly the same way it was when you first opened it. The metal utility box is no longer locked and the array of manila envelopes already in a huge mess, as if someone had been in a hurry to look through whatever was in there.

Without thinking you reach for the first thing you can— a worn out envelope with a stack of papers inside. You carefully try to remove it from where it was placed, meaning not to give yourself away should you want Mingyu not to know that you were going through things he obviously wanted to keep hidden.

You feel your head spin at the sight of you.

All of your information, neatly typewritten onto paper - with an old photo of yours you could not even remember where it had been taken from. All the details of your birth, where you’d grown up, the name of your parents, known relatives. Everything biographically summed up.

So you go through each page to get a better understanding of what it was you were looking at. Each page felt like a huge slap in the face.

Photographs of you from different times of your life. Some when you were just a regular teenager, some when you found yourself in a world of trouble - an ex-boyfriend introducing you to a life of excessive drinking and smoking. Then a connection between you and the night, had you known those evenings of temporary bliss would have lead you to something much deeper and much darker then you probably would take it all back.

You started singing from place to place, but at first it was not a job. It was a hobby that gave you an excuse to indulge in all the things that came with it. A free drink or two, a little standing ovation, a cloud of cigarette smoke — but what mattered the most to you was pleasing your boyfriend at the time. Acceptance was addicting, and you found that he was easy to please for as long as you said yes to everything he wanted you to do.

It started with a small roll of something you thought was like a regular cigarette, your ex-boyfriend had passed it onto you - telling you to take a little inhale. Then it turned into something else, powders, injectables. All of them forcefully given to you.

You did not like it. At first you did, but as you found yourself lost to it— an overstimulation that took over— you wanted to escape it.

But as unlucky as you were, you did not realize that your ex-boyfriend had lead the operation. A twisted take at a business operation, leading a drug cartel into a small town - he said it was overflow from the city. You found out that he planned to turn you into a mule of sorts, wanting to stuff supplies into your body if he got you so pliant— making big shipments through you, an unsuspecting thing, so he could climb up the hierarchy of crime lords.

Before it was too late, before you could lose yourself entirely to addiction or his control, you packed your bags and took off. It was to your luck that you were more observant than necessary; you now understood that in some way you would always be connected to this type of life.

Dealers knew you, some other people who made transactions with your ex knew you— you were now a face that rang up their memories. Regardless of what you did before or what you would end up doing after, you were part of this world even if it did not want you.

So you made friends with some of the people around him, and it got you familiar with all the sorts of ideas to get away as safely as you could. Your voice was the ticket out, a club at a few towns far enough from where you came from.

A neutral territory, was how it was said to you.

It would not keep you out of the circulation, but it would keep you safe. Give you an air of peace at least.

So now, looking at a file on your entire history, that you knew Mingyu had and owned. It sent a huge pang of betrayal across your chest. Like it was you who had been shot, but by something more painful than anything you could physically imagine.

So you try to look through all the other envelopes- some files on other people working in the club, some of Jennie and Minnie. Other patrons at the Rouge, some part of other organized groups. Some documents about the circulating drug trade.

All of these things you were running away from was just stored away at the bedroom you found the escape of love in.

The last thing you look into is the metal box already unlocked. A shiny, gold plated badge is there, sitting atop a leather case. Next to it a police-issued gun, not that you knew it was specifically police— but you were familiar with the type of firearm men-in-uniforms were given. Except this one was a little more complicated; a silencer attached to its muscle.

Then you notice it, a dry seal from a government office right outside the manila envelopes you went through. If only you could shriek, but you keep yourself quiet.

Mingyu was part of something else entirely, and it made you even more scared to have known more now than knowing less before.

Then it clicks, Jennie had mentioned it before. They didn’t hide how they wanted to stop the drugs from coming into this town - and it did seem like no other organized group wanted that to happen either.

The Rouge was worth looking into; neutral territories typically meant unregulated grounds. Maybe they wanted to look into you because it wasn’t so hard to dig up on your history, and by the way things were pinned at— you were at the top of their list.

It is now that you decide to leave not because you had anything you had to hide, but because you cannot handle secrets like this. And you did not know how much any of this was real anymore.

So you quickly round up anything you owned, not bothering to hide how you left his treasure trove of intel either.

You wanted him to know that you knew.

You knew he would try to come after you. Not because you thought it of his nature as an agent or a cop… or whatever he actually was… but because of this impending gut feeling pounding from your chest and swelling at your throat.

So it takes you a good two hours of adrenaline to have everything settled.

Material objects are no longer of any sentiment to you, it’s something you learned to acquire when you first ran away. You kept everything essential; traveling light meant traveling fast - and it would be easier for you to disappear because quick travelers come in fast and unnoticeably transient than most.

You wanted to not have any second thoughts and leave before the sun set, but you couldn’t do that. Your apartment only cleared of things you thought necessary, and your landlord was more than use to people just leaving without prior notice. To your own shock, it was easy leaving Mingyu’s house and not taking a quick glance back.

But the one place you had to say goodbye to was the club, and the friends you made there. Though the feeling of your own safety was a mere illusion, it made you feel at ease for the year you stayed.

“Sorry, it just has to be this way.” You tell Jennie and Minnie, who take your sudden departure much easier than you thought they would.

“Trust me, if we had the chance to leave this place, we would too.” Jennie just comments, offering you a sorry smile.

“Just, try to keep in touch, okay?” Minnie says, and you nod.

“Not for a while,” You say and they understand immediately, “maybe when my absence becomes normal. I’ll call.” They give you one last hug before letting you go.

“You can take one last breath of this place before you go. Only if you want to.” Jennie suggests and you nod. It wouldn’t be a hassle to walk around with only one suitcase in your possession, and maybe there were a few things you needed to pick out from your vanity backstage.

The club is not busy at all. There were only the staff here at this hour, too early for any patrons to be welcomed inside. So the place was eerily quiet, more lit up and empty than you were used to than when it peaked at night.

You make your way down to the dressing room, only a long dark corridor before you closed the door gently behind you— but the time was perfect enough for you to hear loud conversation from where you’d just come from at the heart of the club.

“Is she here?” You knew Mingyu’s voice so perfectly well by now, and so you position yourself as close as you can to the dressing room’s door - sticking as still and has close as you could to the wall even if you felt your heart drop.

“No, it’s too early for her to be.” Jennie answers him, and you can hear the way he’s trying to catch his breath. “Hasn’t she been staying with you?”

“She— Y/N, she left.” He only says, and it’s unfortunate that no matter how lost he sounds you know that your friends won’t tell him anything.

“I don’t know, feel free to look around, it’s not like she’ll fall from the roof.” Minnie says and you hear their footsteps.

“God man, you’re so fucking stupid!” Mingyu whispers to himself, and it sounds clear as day when he walks along the corridor to your dressing room. Of course he knew about it, you two had gone here when you first kissed him.

You practically feel the way the walls vibrate when he punches them, not knowing you were there - holding your breath when you felt how near he was.

But he took a pause right outside the door, his voice so close for you to hear.

“This is my fault. Falling in love on the fucking job, and not being honest.” He sobs, and you don’t know what you’re feeling but it’s something akin to heartbreak— to sadness.

You gravitate towards the backdoor.

You had to go.

Mingyu enters the dressing room, trying to recall the layout of the place to the best of his knowledge. There is no one there, not that he can see or sense, although he was always heavily guarded - he had little hope anyone would be in this very room.

He makes his way to your vanity, it seemed untouched. But nothing here was anything you needed to bring with you, that was something he noticed when you chose things to bring from his house and your apartment.

He’s lost you.

And as he lingers longer, he smells it. Bergamot and basil.

Your perfume is still in the air.

You’ve been here.

He was too late.

------------------------------------------------

author's note: let me know what you think!

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