The Prince, the Pawn and the Bodyguard - Lee Geum-Son, Cheon Hae-Beom x Fem!Reader
A/N: this is so different from anything I’ve written before. It’s enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, why choose, all centered around two powerful crime families. I’ve been working on this for weeks and I’m so excited to tell their tale. This is going to be darkly delicious and spicy as hell 🌶️🥵🔥 This is a different take on Mercy for None, an alternative universe where Lee Geum-Son is fully integrated in his fathers life of crime but still he wants more. And Heo-Beom, who was CRIMINALLY underused in the TV show has a leading role. So, enjoy ❤️
Synopsis: you were born into a criminal empire that had no place for you. You’re nothing more than a pawn, handed to Lee Geum-Son, the heir of a Korean crime family as an offering. The joining of your families was meant to solidify the two most powerful syndicates in the world. But you are no pawn. And you and Geum-Son find yourselves treading a fine line. You’ll either break one another, or burn the world down together.
Things would have been so different if you’d be born a boy. That’s what’s your father had always said, the look of sheer disdain etched into his face whenever he sneered at you. There was no love between the two of you, no paternal bond between father and daughter. He’d wanted a male heir to continue his legacy, but instead he had you. His carefully crafted criminal enterprise was no place for a woman, that’s what he’d told you. You’d fought for his approval your entire life, but had never received more than a few crumbs and a slew of bitter resentment.
Your family was powerful, your legacy unshakable. Your father was a god among mortals, with half of Europe until his control. He had presidents and prime ministers eating out his hands, diplomats and royals bending to his every will. Nothing happened without his say so, and nothing got past him. He was ruthless, unforgiving, and you were a bird in a gilded cage. Or so he thought.
Your father had always been greedy, had always taken what he wanted but never felt satisfied. His deal with the Korean crime syndicate was meant to bring him riches and power beyond his wildest dreams. He would control the West and the East, two powerful families brought together. You couldn’t be heir, but you could marry the heir to the korean empire.
You weren’t consulted, weren’t asked for your opinion while your life was planned out before your very eyes. You’d seen pictures of Lee Geum-Son, his arrogant face staring stony eyed back at you. You hadn’t even met him yet, but you already hated him. You were so sure he’d be exactly the same as your father, just like all the other men who had overlooked and undermined you.
It was a deal of the ages, one that would go down in this history books. That’s what everyone said. But as you stood under the heat of the Italian sun, you wanted nothing more than to burn the whole thing to the ground. The villa was vast and magnificent, terracotta walls and extravagant fountains, all designed to stroke your father’s ego. It was to be a summer of deal making, and at the end of it, you and Geum-Son were to marry, finally uniting the two most powerful families in the world.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled as Geum-Son strode out of the grand entrance hall, shirt sleeves rolled up and a glass of whiskey in his hand. He was so nonchalant, so uninterested in the whole affair and so devilishly handsome he took your breath away. If he hadn’t looked like he’d rather be watching paint dry, you would have admitted the attraction. You mirrored his casual stance, the picture of poised perfection. But on the inside, a storm raged. He looked you up and down, a small smirk playing on his full lips.
“So, you’re to be my wife,” was all he said.
“Try not to sound too pleased,” you responded drily.
“You know, if you were a man,” he smiled, “we’d be trying to kill each other.”
“Too bad,” you replied, not bothering to hide the venom in your voice. “I’d love to hear what you sound like when you scream.”
Your eyes met, and something undeniable passed between you. The hatred was there, red hot and burning, but underneath lay something far more dangerous. Lust, the air so thick with tension it could have strangled you. Neither of you wanted the arrangement, but both of you were intrigued by the person you’d been handpicked to marry. You wanted to know what he’d sound like if you hurt him, but part of you also craved to know what he’d sound like if you pleased him.
That night a party was held to celebrate the start of a new dynasty, the joining of Europe and Korea. The mansion glistened with diamonds and crystal champagne flutes, custom Armani suits and Dior dresses clothing criminals with far more money than sense. The air was thick was cigar smoke and Chanel No.5, the competing smells twisting your stomach.
And in between it all you stood and watched, your black silk dress clinging to your curves like the softest armour. Geum-Son and his father approached you, all smiles and sharp suits.
“A gift,” his father smiled, presenting a man who stood behind them, tall and dark, as if he were made from the shadows themselves. “He is my best man, my most trusted fighter. And now he’ll fight for you.”
You took in the man before you, with his all black suit and a face that looked like it had been carved from marble.
“What’s your name?” You asked softly, taking the man in. Geum-Son had a cold and ruthless intensity, but this man was pure fire.
“Cheon Hae-Beom,” he said, his voice deep and rich, like the darkest, most indulgent chocolate.
The two men flanked you, Geum-Son to your right, Hae-Beom trailing behind as your silent protector. No one paid the three of you any attention. This party wasn’t for you, it was for your father’s, just an excuse to stroke their inflated egos. You could feel the men’s gazes blaring into you, the most delicious heat roiling in your core, despite the anger you felt at being paraded about like a trophy.
“It’s almost tragic. If you weren’t born a pawn, you’d make a perfect queen,” Geum-Son muttered in your ear, his lips so close they brushed against your neck, sending a spark of electricity down your spine. His cologne was rich and inviting, wrapping itself around your senses and pulling you in.
“You think I’m a pawn?” You smirked, unwavering even under his intense stare. “I could break every man in this room. You included.”
“I can’t wait to see you try,” he whispered, breaking away to head for the bar.
Heo-Beom stood beside you, the muscle in his chiselled jaw twitching. It was the only movement that confirmed he hadn’t completely turned to stone.
“You don’t talk much,” you said to him, trying to get a feel for the bodyguard who looked like he’d been carved by the gods themselves.
“Only when necessary,” he replied, his eyes flicking to you for the briefest of moments before going back to scanning the room, assessing for danger. Even in that second long stare, you felt something stir within you.
Your gaze found Geum-Son, leaning up against the ornate golden bar, sipping a glass of whiskey. Your eyes met and he smirked, his expression sending bolts of both fury and fire straight through your soul. You’d only met him twice but he was already under your skin. The cocky prince, so used to getting his own way.
The two of you would either break each other, or burn the whole world down together.
A/N: Please note this sotryline will deal with domestic violence against the reader. It is not graphic and I have kept details to a mimimum, but does describe injuries.
Synopsis: As Nam Gi-Jun learns more about your background with his brother, he feels drawn to you in ways he shouldn't.
It took you a moment to remember where you were. For a few blissful seconds before you opened your eyes, you were sure you were tucked up safely in in your bed, cocooned in your duvet. But then the pain in your eye brought you slamming back down into reality, a dull, throbbing ache that radiated down your cheek and into your ear.
Gingerly, you opened your eyes, surveying your surroundings. Last night, your right eye had been swollen shut, but you could just about open it all the way now. There was dried blood caked to the expensive satin sheets, and the smell of coffee tantalised your senses.
Nam Gi-Seok was dead. The memory hit you like a ton of bricks as you eased yourself out of bed. You’d run to the sanctity of his apartment last night, escaping the clutches of the man you could have once sworn loved you. It wasn’t your first time seeking solace in this room, but for the first time, Gi-Seok wouldn’t be there to greet you. He was gone, and you’d never see him again. You’d have let your tears fall if you knew it wouldn’t hurt, so you pushed them down, heaving yourself out of bed and padding through to the kitchen.
Nam Gi-Jun sat in the same seat his brother always had, nursing a coffee. Could you trust Gi-Jun? You’d known Gi-Seok had a brother, but you’d never met him before. You knew nothing about the man in front of you, had no idea if you could trust him.
“Coffees in the pot,” he mumbled, his gaze meeting yours before looking quickly back down at the floor.
You poured yourself a steaming mug of the dark, rich liquid, taking a huge gulp that scalded your tongue. The two of you sat there at the island, neither of you speaking. The tension in the air was almost suffocating, neither of you trusting the person you sat next to. It was you who broke the silence first.
“How did he die?”
It was a question you certainly didn’t want the answer to, but you had to know. Gi-Seok had been your guardian angel, the one person who had promised to help you escape hell.
“Somone killed him.” Gi-Jun’s voice was gruff and deep, his hands balling into fists as he spoke. He looked a little like his brother, although bulkier and a hell of a lot rougher round the edges. Where Gi-Seok had been polished a poised, Gi-Jun looked like a rugged bear ready for a fight.
“How did you know him?” he asked you, peeking another glance at your battered body.
“He was going to save me,” you whispered, gulping down more of the too-hot coffee so you didn’t cry. “I was in a… bad place, shall we say. Gi-Seok was going to get me out. The last time we spoke…” You choked back a sob and downed the rest of your drink. “The last time we spoke, he told me things would be ready to go in a few days. That was three days ago. I just figured, maybe he was lying low to avoid suspicions. I never expected this. Jun-Mo, I thought he was a good man at first. I didn’t realise he wasn’t until I was in too deep. by then, it was too late to get out. But your brother, he knew I needed help. I owed him everything.”
You trailed off, both of you sitting in silence once again. Gi-Jun stole another glance at you, silently cursing and praising his brother for getting involved. He’d been through Gi-Seok’s belongings last night trying to find any clues as to who might have hurt him. He’d found plenty of information on you hidden in the safe. There were plane tickets for you and him to Bali, and property details for a small villa by the ocean. There was no evidence of you in the apartment, no photos or jewellery, not even a toothbrush in the bathroom. But the safe had been full of his plans for the two of you, along with a letter addressed to you in his handwriting. Against his better judgement, he found himself opening it, his brother’s handwritten declaration of love for you staring back at him in sharp, black ink. He’d loved you, and he’d never got a chance to be with you. Did you feel the same? Gi-Jun felt a pang of jealousy and grief hit him all at once. Gi-Seok had been planning on leaving with you. Had he planned on saying goodbye first? Or had he planned on disappearing into the wind, never to be heard from again?
He left you to shower, busying himself with tidying the kitchen while you eased your clothes off to survey the damage. Your body was a myriad of purple and blue bruises, your lip split and swollen. There was no easy way of putting it; you looked fucking terrible. When you emerged from the bathroom, Gi-Jun handed you the folder containing the plane tickets and property information. He’d kept the letter hidden; he wasn’t sure why.
“He’d be planning this for you. The plane left yesterday, so you’d need to book another flight, but the house is in his name and ready to go. I can sort you another ticket if you want to leave.”
You looked down at the documents in your hands, then back up to Gi-Jun.
“What will you do?” You asked. There was nothing left for you in the city anymore, and yet there was something pulling at you to stay.
“I’m going to kill every last one of them.” Gi-Jun said it to himself rather than you. “Everyone responsible for the death of my brother will feel the same pain as he did.”
You looked down at the documents once more, heaving a ragged sigh. You knew in your heart that you couldn’t leave, not until you’d help avenge the man who was going to take you away from this place.
“I want to help,” you said, feeling more determined than you had in a long while. “I’ll do anything I can.”
“No.” Gi-Jun’s answer was simple and short, turning away from you before you could argue. You noticed he walked with a limp, that every step he took looked like agony.
“Please!” you cried, hurrying after him. “Jun-Mo more than likely had a hand in it. Look what he did to me.” You grabbed his arm, whirling him around to face you. “If he did this to me, he’s capable of killing Gi-Seok. He’s ruthless, and he has his dad’s money and men to hide behind.”
Gi-Jun’s eyes roamed your face, as if he were searching your features for some impossible answer. His brother had loved you, had been willing to leave behind everything to be with you. Whoever had killed him had denied you your happy ending. Seeking revenge wouldn’t bring Gi-Seok back, but maybe it would bring you closure. You were still staring at him, your hand gripping his shirt sleeve. With a grumble, he nodded, although he knew his brother would have hated you being involved.
He'd loved you, but had you loved him? And if Gi-Jun wanted to keep you safe, why was he agreeing to letting you stay and help? He watched as you poured yourself another coffee, clothed in one of Gi-Seok’s t-shirts. He should just book you that plane ticket and stick you on the flight, kicking and screaming. But something in him wanted to keep you around. You were someone who knew his brother maybe better than he did.
It was selfish, he knew, but maybe seeking revenge would heal the broken parts of both of you. Once it was all over, Gi-Jun would put you on the plane and send you to safety. Gi-Seok may have never been given the chance to tell you how he felt, but Gi-Jun would make sure you were taken care of.
He didn’t know you well, but you’d meant a lot to his brother. Protecting you was supposed to be a promise Gi-Seok kept, but now it was one Gi-Jun couldn’t bring himself to break.
The Devil and the Angel - Gu Jeong-Man x Fem!Reader
A/N: I'm on my second watch of Trigger, and this man deserved better!
Synopsis: Gu Jeong-Man watches a beautiful stranger take a tumble in the rain. But doing one good deed doesn't erase a lifetime of sins. And can he forget you once he sees you to safety?
The streets of Seoul were slick with rain, the downpour soaking every inch of the city. The neon lights of bars and businesses reflected in the puddles, bathing the world in colourful hues of pinks, purples and blues.
Gu Jeong-Man stood under the cover of a local dive bar, dragging deeply on a cigarette as he watched the world pass by. He’d always loved the rain, relished the way it soaked through his clothes, as if the water could wash away all his gory sins. No one noticed him as he stood there, surveying the world from his place in the gutter.
He was growing tired of the city, growing tired of working his hands to goddamn bone for nothing in return. He’d never asked for much, just a decent way of life for him and his men, and an ounce of fucking respect. Was that too much to ask? It wasn’t just his boss who lacked respect, it was the entire damn world. People used to have manners, people used to look out for one another. But now, strangers barged passed him in the street without so much as an apology. People took what they want with no regard for others. He may not be going to heaven, but he was entirely sure many people these days wouldn’t. Too many humans were selfish bastards.
Passersby were so engulfed in their phones or getting out of the wet, that they didn’t see the young woman fall. One moment, she was rushing through the rain, her emerald-green trench coat billowing out behind her as she battled the elements. The next, she was on the ground, her knees hitting the asphalt with a sickening thud that could be heard even above the heavy rain fall. He watched you scramble for your papers, your hair clinging to your face, rivulets of water running down your brow and dripping off your nose. Your bag had burst open, the contents spilling forth into a puddle, your phone almost entirely submerged. Jeong-Man watched people walk past you, some even stepping over you as you tried desperately to retrieve your sodden belongings. You must be in pain; that had been a hell of a fall.
Jeong-Man wanted to go and help you, but he had a steadfast rule: never engage with anyone outside of business. He couldn’t risk it, not in his line of work. But then he saw you trying to stuff your papers back in your purse, only for them to disintegrate into soggy mush in your hands. He couldn’t tell due to the rain and the darkness, but he was sure you were crying. He couldn’t leave you like that; it would make him as selfish as everyone else who passed you by.
“Do you need help?” he asked, his voice drowned out by the pouring rain. “Miss?” he said, louder this time. “Do you need help?”
“I’m… I’m ok!” you called back. You’d definitely been crying, your voice was thick with emotion.
Jeong-Man watched as you tried to stand, your bare knees bloodied, the blood running down your shins mixing with the rain. You cried out as you put weight on your left ankle. With the tumble you’d taken, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was broken.
“Let me help you.” Jeong-Man’s arm encircled your waist, half walking, half dragging you down the road. “I think you need to go to the hospital,” he mused, your hisses of pain echoing in his ear. He was acutely aware of your vanilla perfume, the scent clinging to your skin despite the downpour. Your hair smelled like shea butter and even though your mascara cascaded down your face, you were remarkable.
“Probably,” you laughed, gritting your teeth as another wave of pain shot through your ankle. “Hopefully I die of embarrassment first, though.”
Jeong-Man laughed as he eased you into the car, handing you a towel from the backseat. He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be inviting a stranger into his car. The inside of his busted up mini-van had seen its far share of beatings, dead bodies and interrogations. And now it housed a beautiful, rain-soaked woman who probably couldn’t even begin to imagine the atrocities he’d committed, even in her worst nightmares. But he also couldn’t leave you, he’d never be able to live with himself if he didn’t step in. He’d just drop you at the nearest hospital and then be on his way. He’d never see you again after today, but he’d rest easy knowing he’d helped you.
The inside of his car was soaked, your vanilla-shea scent combo filling the car.
“I’m so sorry,” you muttered, trying to wipe down the gearbox. “I am so embarrassed.”
Jeong-Man smiled. “Everyone takes a tumble now and again,” he assured you.
“Yeah, but only kids bust up their knees like this. I’m a grown woman. I should have a little more spatial awareness.”
As Jeong-Man pulled away from his parking spot, he turned to you.
“Where were you hurrying off to?” You were dressed professionally in a skirt and heels, not designer brands, but decent threads all the same.
“I was coming back from a meeting,” you told him. “I was rushing to get to the subway because I just wanted to go home. I’d forgotten my umbrella so figured I’d just make a run for it. In hindsight, probably shouldn’t have run in heels.”
Despite his better judgement, he found himself wondering where you lived, and who you lived with. Did you have a boyfriend? A husband? Was there someone to take you home after the hospital patched you up? He couldn’t let himself think like that, couldn’t let his mind wander.
The lights of the hospital came in to view sooner than Jeong-Man would have liked. He didn’t want to say goodbye, didn’t want to leave you knowing he’d never see you again. But that was life, and Jeong-Man didn’t belong in yours.
He helped you out of the car, your whimpers of pain pulling on the heart he didn’t realise he had.
“Can I carry you?” he asked, “I don’t think you should be putting weight on that ankle.”
“Ok,” you nodded, but he could see embarrassment flash in your eyes. “Just don’t drop me.”
“I won’t drop you,” he promised, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled.
As he carried you through the doors, a nurse noticed you, running forward with a wheelchair. He set you gently into the seat, smiling at you again. The sterile lights of the hospital did nothing to dim your beauty. He knew as he looked at you that he’d never forget your eyes.
“Get yourself checked in,” Jeong-Man said. He watched as the nurse wheeled you away, fighting with his head and heart. He wanted to stay, but he knew he couldn’t. His world didn’t allow for someone like you to be a part of it.
He turned and left before you were done registering yourself, not daring to look back. The scent of you clung to his jacket, the softness of your voice still lingering in his ears. The rain had all but ceased now, and Jeong-Man had work to do.
He hoped you had someone to care for you, to make sure you got home and were well-fed and looked after. Maybe in another life, Jeong-Man could have stayed, could have made sure you got home, cooked you some food and made sure you were warm and dry.
But in this life, he’d signed a deal with the devil. In this life he was paying for his sins. And a devil like him would never be enough for an angel like you.
A/N: this series will featured descriptions of gun violence.
Synopsis: Lee Do never lets anyone get too close. Especially not his pretty new partner. But there’s something about the way you smile that Lee Do can’t get out of his head.
Lee Do had always lived an isolated life. He had his job, and as far as he was concerned, that was all he needed. The possibility of having a family of his own was snuffed out the day his was stolen from him as a child. The heartbreak he had felt that day had never faded, had never lessened, and Lee Do refused to put himself through that again. To him, it was better to be alone than have his world shattered all over again.
He was content helping his community, walking the streets day after day to make sure he helped as many people as he could. He tried not to notice all the couples holding hands, or the dad’s playing with their children in the park. That was a life he wouldn’t lead, out of choice, and he was happy with the decisions he’d made. A family would take away from his job, and he couldn’t bear the thought of not being there when someone needed help.
Lee Do was fiercely independent, forgoing a partner like most officers had. He liked the solitude, relished the silence that came with working alone. There was no one for him to care about and grow attached to that way.
When the boxes of bullets were found at a crime scene, Lee Do was the first on the scene. His time as an army officer had granted him in-depth knowledge of firearms, and he knew more about guns than any of his colleagues did. But no amount of knowledge could have prepared him for the atrocities that would take place.
The first mass shooting had caught everyone off guard, and Lee Do was thrust right into the heart of the investigation. The carnage was unlike anything he’d ever seen, even on his worst days in the military. The bloodshed and death only reaffirmed that he was right to spend his life alone. There was no chance of getting hurt if he didn’t have anyone to lose.
But then you arrived. A detective transferred from another division, you were highly trained in the use of guns and highly knowledgable about the world of gun trafficking, and according to your old boss, you could take apart and reassemble a gun in your sleep. The higher ups wanted you leading the investigation with Lee Do, insisting that two of you together would be unstoppable.
Lee Do insisted he didn’t need a partner, but once you were stationed at the desk next to his, there was no going back.
You were a little too loud for Lee Do. You smiled too much, laughed too hard and quickly made friends with just about everyone in the office. You spent your days together trying to piece together an impossible puzzle, and he had no doubt that you were an excellent officer. But you made his preferred life of solitude almost impossible, and he found your never-ending optimism grating.
You could see that Lee Do had no patience for you, and you wondered why he was so quiet and withdrawn. You tried to get him out of his shell, but unless it was about the case, he wasn’t interested in talking.
“We’re here to work,” he reminded you one day as you asked him how his evening had been. “This isn’t a social event.”
He knew he’d put his foot in his mouth as you locked eyes with him, your mouth forming a thin line. “Oh thank goodness,” you quipped. “I left my party hat at home.”
He was taken back by your sarcasm, noting the playful half-smile on your face as he fought his own grin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled properly.
You noticed him fighting a smile and wondered why he was so damn stubborn. His unwillingness to connect was frustrating, but you weren’t giving up on him yet. There was something about Lee Do that you couldn’t put your finger on, but you could tell there was more to him than met the eye.
“I haven’t seen you eat all day,” you said, shutting down your laptop for the night. “Fancy grabbing a bite?”
“I have paperwork,” he muttered, sinking a little lower in his chair, like he trying to make himself smaller.
“Ah, the old paperwork excuse,” you winked, trying not to let his brush off get to you. “Will you still have paperwork to do if I offer to pay? I just figured if we’re going to be working together, we should get to know each other.”
Lee Do looked at you, that small smile that irked him playing on your face. He had to admit, you were beautiful, and if he’d been a different person, maybe he’d have dropped his guard and allowed himself to enjoy your company. But feelings came with risks he wasn’t ready to face.
“Fine,” he finally agreed, hiding his blush as you beamed. “One dinner.”
You took him to your favourite place in the city, and ordered everything on the menu. He sat and listened as you talked about your life, your family and your friends. You were so animated, so full of life and so vibrant. Lee Do just sat back and watched you, wishing he had something to add to the conversation. But he had no friends, no family, nothing outside of his job. He carefully dodged any questions you asked him, steering the conversation back to you. You knew what he was doing, and wondered why he didn’t divulge anything about himself. You’d had a few partners in your career, but none had been as private and withdrawn as Lee Do.
You pulled out your card at the end of the meal to pay, but Lee Do shook his head, handing his card to waitress before you had the chance.
“To make up for not being the best partner so far,” he muttered sheepishly. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he’d had fun. It was the first night he hadn’t spent alone at his desk in god knew how long. You gave him the sweetest smile in return, promising to bring breakfast for the two of you tomorrow.
That smile of yours graced his dreams that night, and Lee Do awoke with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t allow himself to get too close, to forge anything more than professional familiarity. But when he arrived at work and found you sitting at your desk, coffee and pastries in tow, he realised he’d already let himself slip. He was getting too close for his own good, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself broken-hearted again. This case wasn’t simple, and there was more bloodshed on the way. He had to protect his heart. Because for the first time in years, he was afraid of losing someone again.
Synopsis: the only joy in Nam Gi-Seok’s life is feeding the stray cat near his apartment. But when he realises you’ve been feeding his feline friend too, it stirs up emotions he won’t allow himself to feel. 
Nam Gi-Seok had first seen the stray cat almost 4 weeks ago. He’d never been much of an animal lover, but there was something about the black and white scrawny feline that tugged at his heart strings. He’d found his feet carrying him to nearest convenience store, and he purchased a cat bowl and some cat food before he’d had time to think it over properly. He wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to the cat, but as he stood under the lit street lamp, watching his new furry companion wolf down a bowl of salmon flavoured food, Gi-Seok knew he’d come back to this same spot every night.
He didn’t have room for anything or anyone in his heart; he hadn’t allowed himself the space. His life was anything but ordinary, anything but safe and secure. His role as Senior Managing Director at Juwoon Group wasn’t the type of role that let him have a family, or any semblance of a love life. It was dangerous, corrupt, a shiny facade to hide the criminal dealings that went on behind closed doors.
He ached for companionship, for someone to ease his lonely soul. But he’d seen one too many times what happens when you try to have a life outside of Juwoon Group. It never ended well. So Gi-Seok would have to be content with his stray cat, getting a few minutes of affection in exchange for a belly full of food.
He named the cat Saja, because for him to survive as a stray on the streets of Seoul, he must have the heart and courage of a lion. Gi-Seok found himself talking to Saja each night, telling the cat about his day, smiling as Saja began to wind himself between his legs, purring.
One night, Gi-Seok arrived home late, and found Saha already eating dinner under the streetlight, this time out of a pink bowl engraved with tiny fish. Instead of salmon, he had chicken, and Gi-Seok found himself tutting. Who was feeding his cat? That night, Saja had two dinners.
The next night he returned, again to find the pink bowl and his cat chowing down greedily on the food. This time though, he saw you, crouched down and cooing softly as you stroked the length of the cat’s back. You had the softest voice, so warm and calming, and Gi-Seok stood in the shadows as he listened to you talk to his only friend.
“You must be so hungry,” you said, laughing as Saja pushed his body along your shins and purred appreciatively. Gi-Seok couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that his cat was so easily led astray by a pretty face and the promise of a meal.
“If you’re still hungry,” you smiled, “how about dessert?” You pulled a pack of Dreamies from your pocket and Saja took them gently from your hand. “Good boy, Mr Whiskers,” you laughed.
“Mr Whiskers?!” Gi-Seok cried before he could stop himself. “He’s called Saja.” Who the Hell called a cat something like that?
“Oh!” You exclaimed, standing up and dropping the packet of treats in the process. Saja quickly took advantage of your clumsiness, scoffing down as many treats as he could fit in his tiny mouth. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realise he had a home.”
The streetlight above you bathed your features in a warm, golden hue and Gi-Seok was taken aback. You were beautiful, the lamplight reflected in your irises. You smiled sheepishly, bending back down to pick up the treats Saja hadn’t managed to scoff down yet.
“He’s not my cat,” Gi-Seok said, his voice a little softer. “I just feed him sometimes.”
He held up his bag of food, not wanting to admit that this was his nightly ritual, the only joy he found in his day.
“I see,” you said, “well, I’m sure Mr Whisk-Saja, won’t mind being fed twice. Although, he did just eat about twelve treats.”
Gi-Seok looked down at his furry friend, who was purring contentedly at your feet. It seemed as though he had competition now.
“Well, I’m sure we can come to some arrangement with the feeding,” he muttered, angry with himself that he was jealous of a cat. “I work late a lot so… we can maybe take it in shifts. I think Saja likes the company.” He didn’t want to admit that he did too.
“I’d like that,” you smiled, and Gi-Seok’s stomach flipped. You had such a pretty smile, your grin reaching all the way to your eyes and making them shine. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely smiled like that.
You parted way, and Gi-Seok waited until you were out of sight before sitting on the ground next to Saja. He wished he’d been a little nicer to you, not so cold and snappy. The cat took a seat on his lap, curling himself into a tight ball in the folds of his coat.
Gi-Seok hadn’t even got your name, but perhaps that was for the best. Maybe you could just be two strangers who met every now again to feed a stray cat. But, despite his better judgement, despite knowing he couldn’t be with you, Gi-Seok was already looking forward to seeing you again.
A/N: warning!! This is a DARK romance and will feature themes of stalking, gun violence and cancer. Please read at your own discretion. I was planning on making Moon Baek a redemptive story arc, but there is no redeeming him, and as someone who loves a dark romance novel, I had to go down that route.
Synopsis: Moon Baek knows you can’t take care of yourself. Not when the world is as cruel and ruthless as it is. That’s why he sends you a gun. And that’s why he finds himself standing outside your apartment every night.
His body was a ticking time bomb, his destruction assured. The cancer had decimated his system, his life on borrowed time. But that didn’t matter to Moon Baek; nothing had mattered to him for a very long time.
In another life, maybe he’d have stood a chance. If he hadn’t been left on the doorstep of the orphanage and taken by traffickers, maybe he’d have met a nice girl and settled down. Maybe he’d have a few kids and a steady job at a bank. Maybe he’d go to baseball practice on a Saturday and church on a Sunday. Maybe he wouldn’t have terminal cancer. But life hadn’t worked out that way, and Moon Baek had nothing but a body covered in scars and a soul full of anger.
The world was corrupt, and before he left this earth, he only had one mission: give power back to the people. His time in America had shown him that not everyone was strong, but if you put a gun into someone’s hands, they were suddenly feared by everyone. Maybe if he’d had a gun sooner, his life would have been different.
He was lucky if he’d survive the next 6 months, let alone the next year. His doctors weren’t optimistic, but Moon Baek no longer cared. He busied himself with ensuring that the people of Korea could protect themselves in a way he hadn’t been able to. His gun operation was in full force, and though he probably wouldn’t live to see Christmas, he’d die with a smile knowing the world would be a safer place because of him.
He enjoyed seeking people out, found a thrill in finding those too weak to defend themselves against the scum that preyed on them. It was how he first encountered you, so meek and mild as you brushed off unwanted flirtations from a man who had a face not even a mother could love.
Moon Baek had been watching you for days now, your nervous demeanour endearing and yet so incredibly frustrating. You lacked confidence, and despite your beauty, you huddled into yourself, so afraid of the world and everyone in it. He remembered when he’d felt that way, so afraid of his own shadow. He’d noticed your unwanted admirer long before you did, watching the man stare at you through the glass of the shop windows for days before he went inside.
Moon Baek never got close enough to intervene, only ever observing from the sidelines. He recognised the man for what he truly was: a stalker, a dangerous predator. And you were the timid rabbit in the jaws of the hideous lion. You were too polite to tell him to leave, dressing the shop window while he pawed at you with increasing ferocity. Why wouldn’t you fight back? Why wouldn’t you say how you truly felt? And why did no one else help you?
Rage consumed Moon Baek, and he knew what he needed to do. You were frustratingly easy to follow home, and he noticed with unbridled disgust that your stalker had also figured that out. You needed protection, and Moon Baek could offer it. The gun arrived at your apartment two days later, and he watched as your brought the package inside. He wished he could see your reaction, wished he could hear the gasp that fell from your lips as you prised the wooden lid open.
You were too good for the man who watched you through the shop window, too precious and delicate for his grotesque features and wandering hands.
Moon-Baek hoped you’d make use of his gift. But if not, he’d have no problem getting involved and taking care of matters himself. He may not have long left on this earth, but while he still had breath in his body, he’d make sure the man stayed away. Sure, he could take the stalker out himself, but where was the fun in the that? If he solved your problem for you, how would you protect yourself when he was gone?
He found himself spending more and more time watching you. The irony wasn’t lost on him; he was protecting you from a stalker when he himself was stalking you. But he was nothing like the sick man who watched you with an open mouth and a visible bulge in his tattered trousers. Moon Baek was a man of substance, a man with morals, however grey they may be.
When your slack-jawed stalker delivered his first gift to your apartment, Moon Baek knew he needed to step in. He heard your squeal from his position outside your window and shuddered to think what you’d been sent. He knew the gun was still inside the box, hidden in your wardrobe under a pile of clothes. He’d been in to check last week when you still hadn’t confronted your stalker.
It was then Moon Baek knew he’d have to coax you a little. He’d have to insert himself into your life and get you to see that the gun was nothing to fear.
Because once he was dead, if you didn’t protect yourself, no one else would.
A/N: this story will contain details of domestic violence.
Synopsis: the rules were simple. Kill them all. Leave no one alive. But Gi-Jun didn’t count on meeting you, and now you have him breaking his own rules.
It was never supposed to be like this. His revenge should have been swift, brutal and merciless. There should have been no one left alive who had witnessed the brutality he had inflicted. But he hadn’t counted on meeting you.
Nam Gi-Jun was not a good man. He never had been, and despite his efforts over the last decade, he probably never would be. There was no place in heaven for a monster like him. His brother on the other hand, was a good soul, despite his line of work. Nam Gi-Seok had always been better than him, even as kids, but it was never something that Gi-Jun had despised him for. It was just how it was.
When Gi-Jun left his life as an enforcer behind, he had done it to protect Gi-Seok. He never imagined that he’d be back on the streets of Seoul, soaking the city in blood to avenge his brother.
Gi-Seok didn’t deserve to die, especially not in the brutal way he’d been taken. With no clear evidence, but plenty of circumstantial coincidences, Gi-Jun had vowed to take down every person who had any reason to harm his brother. None of his targets were saints, and some of them were far worse than he had ever been.
He spent his nights prowling the streets, waiting for his chance to strike. They never saw him coming, their lives snuffed out before they’d had the chance to fight back. It was quick, efficient, but did nothing to quell the burning rage within Gi-Jun’s soul.
It was on the fifth night that he first saw you, your battered and bruised body limping away from the hotel he’d been canvassing. His next target was Gu Jun-Mo, a piece of shit nepo baby who’d always been too big for his boots. He had no doubt as to who was responsible for the cuts on your face. He stayed hidden in the shadows, watching as you half walked, half dragged yourself away into the night. He didn’t step into help you, despite wanting to. His goal was to erase the man who’d hurt you from the face of the earth. To him, you were just one of the many who would benefit from his blood-soaked vendetta.
He was going to take his time with Jun-Mo, drag out the fear and creeping sense of helplessness until he begged for Gi-Jun to end it. He knew Jun-Mo had threatened his brother, and whether he was guilty of his murder or not, he wouldn’t be spared.
Just as the last whispers of night were swallowed by the rising sun, Gi-Jun returned to his brother’s apartment. Rage simmered within him like a pot over-boiling, his fingers itching to inflict pain on his enemies. But he needed to bide his time, make his moves carefully.
The apartment was still dark as he removed his shoes, spying a pair of heels that hadn’t been there when he left. He found you crumpled on the sofa, your blood crusted to the cream leather of the couch his brother loved so much. What were you doing here? Who were you?
Gi-Jun watched you for a new moments, the slight rise and fall of your chest the only sign you were still alive. Then, your eyes cracked open, the lids puffy from your beating, and he clapped a hand across your mouth before you had time to scream.
You were beautiful, he noticed, as you wildly thrashed against him. Despite the blood and bruises marring your features, you were stunning. Your eyes, though so full of fear, were bright, your gaze burning through him.
“Who are you?” Gi-Jun growled, holding you against him as you fought to free yourself. “How did you get in here?”
“You’re Gi-Jun, aren’t you?” You whispered, your body trembling against his, a rabbit caught in his blood-stained headlights.
He stared at you, wondering if Jun-Mo had sent you to mess with him, to taunt him further. But there was no mistaking your fear. Your heart beat so fast that Gi-Jun worried it would come to a stop.
“Your brother,” you stumbled, you words falling in a flurry from your lips as you tried to explain. “He was helping me. I’m… im in trouble. He was helping me escape. I… do you know what’s happened to him?”
Your eyes were wet with tears, your busted lip cracked and bleeding, but there was a softness to you that Gi-Jun hadn’t seen in another person for many years.
“He’s dead,” was all Gi-Jun could say. “Who was he helping you escape? Did they do this to you?”
You nodded, blood trickling from your lower lip down your chin. He resisted the urge to wipe it away.
“Who?” He asked, his eyes boring into yours, searching for answers you were too afraid to give.
“Jun-Mo,” you whispered, the man’s name catching in your throat, burning your insides like a deadly poison.
Gi-Jun stood there in his dead’s brother’s living room, still holding the woman his brother had promised to save. Yes, Gi-Seok had been a far better man than he had ever been. But Gi-Jun could honour his brother by saving you.
And when he took the life of the man who hurt you, it would be a slow, and agonising experience.
Biological Response - Professor Wiroj x Fem!Reader
A/N: Disappeared for half a year, but have come back with a new love for Thai dramas! 2025 has NOT been the year for mental health, but at least I've found my passion for writing again!
Synopsis: Wiroj is a man of science who refuses to look up from his lab notes. You're the profeesor with a love for classic literature. Is it a match made in heaven, or an experiement waiting to go wrong?
Wiroj lived his life by data. His world revolved around numbers, facts and indisputable scientific data. In his head, data didn’t lie; but people did. His forty years on this earth had taught him that people often did the opposite of what he expected. But science had never let him down. And, if at any point the facts didn’t add up, he could easily find out why. But people remained a mystery to him, and it was a mystery that Wiroj was happy to leave unsolved.
He would never understand why he constantly failed to live up to his parent’s expectations, or why every relationship he’d ever had had crashed and burned before it had even started. Wiroj was content to spend his days in his lab, surrounded by petri dishes and textbooks, every waking moment spent trying to figure out biological anomalies. Some people would say Wiroj was simply burying his head in the sand and avoiding confronting uncomfortable emotions, but he was simply protecting his heart.
He was happy, he’d tell himself. Happy to devote his life to research and teaching his students to become the best versions of themselves. Of course, there were times when the nights felt too long, or his bed felt too cold and empty, but if that were ever the case, Wiroj would simply head to the safety of his lab. It was easier this way, and he never wanted anything more than what he already had. At least, that was until he met you.
You came into Wiroj’s life in a shockwave of soft laughter, amber scented perfume and classic literature. Your course on English Language and Classic Literature was new to the university but was proving to be incredibly popular. Wiroj had heard nothing but near constant chatter among staff and students alike since you started, and despite himself, his interest was piqued.
He'd been content to observe you from afar, catching a glimpse of the new professor without straying to far from the comfort of his lab. But your worlds collided far quicker than Wiroj had ever anticipated. He’d been so engrossed in an article on Predictive Processing in Human Behaviour that he hadn’t seen you coming towards him, your nose buried in a dog-eared copy of Wuthering Heights. The two of you collided, a flurry of pages and lukewarm coffee.
“I’m so sorry,” you gasped, picking up his magazine and flicking drops of coffee into the air, desperately trying to limit the damage.
“It’s alright,” he said, using his sleeve to wipe a dribble of his cappuccino from the front cover of your book. He’d never been one for romance or the classics, but he could tell this book was well loved.
You looked up at him, an embarrassed smile playing across your beautiful face. Wiroj was taken aback at the woman crouched before him, your white shirt speckled with coffee and your eyes the most beautiful shade he had ever seen.
“I should really look where I’m going,” you laughed, “I hope your magazine isn’t too badly damaged.”
“It’s…” Wiroj looked down at his sodden reading material. The article was still legible, but the pages were already sticky and smelt strongly of vanilla syrup. “It’s fine,” he said, not daring to look you in the eye. It had been years since he’d felt like this, like a giddy teenager. His palms felt sweaty, his heart raced and his cheeks reddened as he inhaled the scent of your perfume.
It's nothing more than a biological response, he assured himself. The body’s normal response to an attractive member of the opposite sex. It meant nothing, and Wiroj refused to linger on the way you made him feel. You introduced yourself and your name was forever engrained in his brain. Your voice was like the sweetest song, your features more beautiful than any painting. he hurriedly made his excuses, not bothering to give you his name in return as he scurried off down the corridor without a backwards glance.
It wasn’t until he was back in the safety of his lab, his heart still pounding in his chest, that he realised he still held your copy of Wuthering Heights. The book still smelled of coffee, but the scent of your perfume faintly lingered as well. Wiroj knew he couldn’t keep it, he’d have to return it to you sooner rather than later. But the thought of seeing you again made stomach flip.
“A simple biological reaction,” he muttered to himself, sitting back down at his desk. He was a man of science, of reason. Attraction was nothing more than a natural, primitive response, a series of neurochemical processes. But as he sat in front of his class that afternoon, listening to their incessant chatter about their love for the new English Literature professor, Wiroj wondered how long it would take for the chemicals in his brain to stop seeing you as the most beautiful woman in the world. How long would it be until you became nothing more than another professor in the lounge, another colleague that he passed by in the hallways?
Wiroj didn’t have room in his life for complications. Everything was simple, logical, and easy. He’d spent his whole adult life avoiding difficult emotions, and it was going to take more than a pretty English professor to reduce him to a bundle of hormones. But as he stared at your coffee-stained book, Wiroj wondered if for once, science maybe didn’t hold all the answers.
I’m doing better, thank you. It’s just one thing after the other at the minute but I only have three weeks left of university and then I’m hoping I can devote more time to writing. I’m so behind I can’t actually remember who I write for and what the storylines are so I need to sit down and work out how to get back into the flow of things. Thank you for checking in ❤️❤️❤️
Hey mod, i'm happy you're back and I hope you're feeling, don't feel pressure to write everyday. We understand you ♥️
Btw, idk if you don't remember, but some months ago i sent you a list of dramas i recommended to you. I don't if you watched all (probably not, bc i sent a lot lol), but i want to recomend some more to you:
Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo, Insider (I remember another anon recommending it, but idk if you watched it, so i wanted to recommend again), When The Camellia Blooms, Forgotten (that's a movie btw), Juvenile Justice, A Killer Paradox, The Trunk, Mad Dog, Misaeng (i don't remember if i have recommended it before, so 😶), The Good Detective, Beyond Evil and Karma.
Oof, i'm sorry that's a lot, you probably haven't even finished the others that i sent a few months ago. Anyways, again: i'm glad you're back and feeling better. Pls, take care of yourself ☺️♥️
Hi!! Thanks for recs!! I’m so behind on tv shows at the minute, but I will add these to my list!
Synopsis: Kim Young-Man knew exactly what he wanted from life. But then he met you.
A/N: my first time writing in over a month and I feel rusty as heck. However, Newtopia was my comfort show while I feeling low, and I watched it twice back to back because I found it so funny.
Kim Young-Man had always known what he’d wanted. From an early age, he’d known he wanted to be a lawyer, to fight for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. He was looking forward to his mandatory military service, couldn’t wait to do his duty and serve his country just like his father had, and his grandfather. Young-Man always looked ahead, always focused on the bigger picture. He had no time for dating; and besides, he didn’t really see the point in getting serious with anyone, not when he was planning to focus on his service and career first. There would be time for dating when he’d achieved everything he wanted.
He’d been so excited the day he began his military service. Young-Man thrived on the strict sense of order, the regimented workouts and exercises. He loved the early mornings and lates nights, the sense of camaraderie that came with sharing close quarters. His fellow trainees quickly became like brothers to him, and he really thought life couldn’t get any better. For Young-Man, there was nothing else in this life that he needed.
But he hadn’t counted on you. He’d never thought for a second that a simple broken elevator could lead him to something he’d never known he’d needed. The day he stepped out into the VIP lounge area of the Eden Hotel, a place strictly forbidden to the soldiers stationed upon the roof, he laid eyes on you from across the room. One look at his military combat gear had your lips pursing into a tight line, your eyes narrowing as you honed in on him.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” you hissed, plastering a professional smile to your face as several guests walked by. “You’ve been told to use the elevator.”
Your voice was like the softest silk, your eyes, though fixed on him with annoyance, were so beautiful and pure that he was sure he’d get lost in the colourful pools of your irises.
“It’s broken,” was all he could say, unable to tear himself away from the exquisite features of your face. He’d always been so good with words, quick witted and so sure, but all speech seemed impossible around you.
“Then get it fixed,” you huffed. “People are looking.”
Young-Man didn’t care. For all he knew, the only two people in the room, the only two people in the whole goddamn world were you and him.
“Absolutely,” he muttered, despite having no power over the maintenance company.
The elevator remained broken for weeks, forcing him and his comrades to brave the halls of the VIP lounge whenever they needed to make trips down from the rooftop military base. It became a sort of game; Young-Man seeking you out in the crowd, your blue uniform hugging every curve. Over the weeks, your annoyed frown turned into a half-smile, although you never dared let on that you looked forward to seeing the Sergeant. He had the kindest eyes, and the softest smile, and despite the fact he was breaking every rule the hotel had put in place when the army commandeered the rooftop, you couldn’t bring yourself to be irritated. Their operations atop the Eden Hotel were to remain strictly confidential, but word quickly got out as guests witnessed the soldiers traipsing through the hotel day after day.
“Any news on that elevator?” You asked him one day, catching him off guard as he made his way to the kitchen.
“Another few weeks I’m afraid,” Young-Man sighed solemnly, trying to hide his delight at getting another few weeks of seeing your beautiful face every day.
“Mhmm,” was your only reply, turning away so he didn’t see the smile spreading over your face.
For the first time in his life, Young-Man found himself conflicted. He’d always been so sure of what he wanted, his goals so clear in his mind. But he’d never counted on meeting you, had never expected the beautiful Guest Services Manager to knock him off his feet. His nights were filled with thoughts of you, lying awake and thinking about what you were doing, and what you were like outside of work. He no longer sprang from his bed each morning, now far too groggy from a sleepless night of daydreaming about you.
You were an anomaly Young-Man had never expected, and it made him question what he really wanted out of the life he’d planned for himself.
In the words of Slim Shady, guess who’s back, back again? 😎
Thank you everyone for being patient while I took a much needed break. I’m still feeling a little off, but I really really miss writing.
Going forward, I won’t be posting a weekly schedule and I won’t be posting every day. Trying to write seven fics a week was burning me out so badly and right now’s it’s just not a feasible way to continue. So now I will be writing whenever I have free time. Some days I may post a couple of fics, some days I might post one and there might be some days where I don’t post at all.
I love this blog so much and I want to make sure it continues to be a place of comfort for me, rather than something that burns me out.
I love you all and I’m so happy to be back creating ❤️❤️❤️
So, I took a break from writing a few weeks ago as I was feeling really burnt out. I thought I was feeling better, but I'm really not. I've tried to keep writing because I feel really guilty about not putting out content for my followers. I also panic when I look at my inbox and see how many requests I've got because I really don't have the mental capacity to keep writing at the minute. Basically, I'm really struggling at the minute.
I know I don't owe anyone an explanation, but I'm so bad at vocalising my feelings, and writing them down really helps.
I'm absolutely fine, and I know that this will pass, but life is HEAVY at the minute.
I'm spending about 70 hours of my week either working or studying for my degree. I feel terrified that I'm going to be 31 in August and I've only just figured out what I want to do with my life (I want to be a historian specialising in the 19th Century). I've had two miscarriages in the last 2 years, and now two of the women in mine and my husband's friend group have become pregnant and I've been really struggling with my sadness and anger. I'm obviously happy for them but it's a stark reminder of what I don't have. I absolutely love my life, but the reality is is that baby loss is so difficult and it's something you never really get over.
I've also spent the last several years watching someone close to me go through a very volatile relationship. I have been incredibly supportive and tried to help, but it's reached a point where she has shut me out and family members out because she cannot see how bad things have gotten. I'm finding it really hard and spend a lot of time worrying.
I don't want to stop writing because it's my escape, but at the moment every time i sit down to write it's like my head is filled with cement. I have an 1,800 word essay due tomorrow and I've only written 350 words because my mind physically goes blank whenever I sit down to try and type it.
I also haven't written my Cho Hyun-Ju fic or Baek Kang-Hyuk fic that was scheduled for this week, and so those won't be releasing tomorrow or Friday. I had some really exciting stuff planned but at the moment, all I want to do is sit on the sofa in my pyjamas, cry, eat chocolate and hug my dog. I feel like the quality of my writing is slipping at the moment and I want to ensure that I do my fics justice and right now, I can't do that.
I'm not sure how long I'll be gone for, maybe a few weeks, but I will definitely be coming back. Since joining Tumblr in January I've found this lovely little community of people who are so friendly and nice. I've got a few people who regularly comment and send me TV and movie recs, and I absolutely love it. I'll still be on Tumblr because the Squid Game memes are currently keeping me sane. So, if you have any good recommendations for TV shows, movies, or you see something hilarious, please send them my way.
I feel like as an adult, making friends is so hard and I'm embarrassed to say that other than my husband and dog, I literally don't speak to anyone else. I'm trying to make a conscious effort to go out and make new friends, but making friends as an adult is HARD and i feel like no one talks about how lonely your 20's and 30's can feel. Tumblr has made me feel so surrounded by people even though i talk to you all through a screen.
Sorry for blabbing on so much, but your girl ain't living, laughing or loving right now haha.
I know everything will get better and I know I'll probably be desperate to write some fics again in about 3 days, but I'm going to take some time out, spend some time with my dog and husband and get my head back on straight.
Thank to you everyone who reads my work, and I shall see you all very soon.
Outside Looking In
In the Bleak Midwinter
Without You
Looking Up
Fatherly Disdain
Synopsis: The scent of your new perfume drives Nam-Gyu wild.
A/N: For anyone who regularly reads my work, you might have noticed that vanilla scented perfume crops up a lot. It’s because vanilla is my absolute favourite scent in the world. I have vanilla scented everything: perfume, body spray, body lotion, body wash, candles, even a plug vanilla scented reed diffuser! I recently treated myself to the Lush Vanilla perfume (can highly recommend) and the scent reminds me of freshly baked, warm cookies, which gave me the idea for this fic.
Nam-Gyu loved it when you wore perfume. You owned so many, the dainty glass bottles littered throughout the apartment. The bathroom cabinets were filled with perfume and body spray of every scent imaginable. Your favourite ones took pride of place atop your chest of drawers, and Nam-Gyu would often admire the way the sun reflected off the glass, removing the lid to inhale the scents he now associated with you. You had a perfume for every mood, and he was now able to predict your emotions depending on which scent you used.
His favourite one by far, however, was your vanilla perfume. The sweet, rich aroma reminded him of warm, freshly baked cookies, the smell enveloping him in the most comforting of hugs. He couldn’t resist you whenever you sprayed it, latching on to you like a lovesick puppy as he breathed you in.
“I can’t help it,” he’d whimper when you lovingly tried to push him away, his body draped over yours making it so hard to accomplish even the smallest of tasks. You intoxicated him, and Nam-Gyu could never get enough.
You’d worn the vanilla perfume today, the smell lingering in the apartment long after you’d left for work. The rich, warm tones encircled him for hours, the smell clinging to the very particles in the air. It made him long for you, made him wish he could wrap himself around your body and have you hold him close. as the day dragged on, so did his thoughts of you, his daydreams quickly changing from ones of comfort, to visions of making love to you. Your perfume was sweet, almost as sweet as the whimpers that fell from your lips as he fucked you, and Nam-Gyu was practically climbing the walls by the time you got home.
“So needy tonight,” you teased, taking his face between your hands and pressing soft kisses to his lips. You could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, evidence of just how much he’d missed you.
“I need you,” he grunted, his lips trailing down across your cheek, along your jawline and neck. He took a deep breath in, inhaling your scent as his hands fumbled with the buttons of your blouse.
“What’s got you so riled up?” you smiled, leaning your head back as Nam-Gyu’s lips continued their descent down your body.
“That fucking vanilla perfume,” he growled, unclasping your bra with ease as he took your nipple gently between his teeth.
You moaned as he gently bit down, a small smile spreading across your face as his tongued soothed the tingling bite. You knew Nam-Gyu couldn’t resist you when you wore this perfume. It was why you’d sprayed it before you left, knowing the lingering scent would drive him crazy. You knew he’d be desperate for you when you got home, knew he’d fuck you hard and fast, his whimpering little moans like music to your ears.
“Do you want me?” you whispered, your warm breath sending tingles from his earlobe down to his toes. His shivered against you, his cock straining at his jeans as he nodded fervently against you.
“Yes,” he groaned, bringing your hand down to the bulge in his jeans. The moan he evicted when you ever so gently ran your hands along his length was animalistic, igniting the fire deep within your belly.
“Show me,” you breathed. “Show me how badly you want me.”
Nam-Gyu didn’t need telling twice. Sweeping you up in his arms, he placed you atop the kitchen counter, his hands working feverishly to remove your clothes. You were already so wet for him, he unwavering desire for you driving you crazy. Parting your legs, his ran his fingers through your slick folds, his mouth pressing the softest kisses to your vanilla scented skin. As he slid his fingers inside of you, he was rewarded with your guttural moan, smiling softly to himself as your jaw slackened.
Your tight walls gripped his digits as his thumb slowly circled your clit, your moans filling the tiny expanse of your kitchen.
“I need you,” your desire to tease completely eradicated by the need to have him claim you. “Please,” you begged, “I need all of you.”
Nam-Gyu couldn’t deny you, not when his own pleasure pulsed painfully against the denim of his jeans. He removed his clothes, his aching cock standing to attention as he took in the sight of your dripping core, the neediness and desperation so clear in your bright, beautiful eyes.
The stretch of your walls as he entered you was enough to take your breath away, the sensation always overwhelming, no matter how many times he fucked you. He clung to you, his fingers gripping your shoulders with a force you knew would leave bruises behind as he thrust into you.
He buried his head in the soft crook of your neck as he fucked you on the countertop, your legs wrapped round his waist as you begged him to go harder, to fuck you faster.
“Always so fucking needy,” he grunted, pulling you closer and he thrust into you, hitting a spot that no one else had ever been able to reach.
You could feel yourself getting close, could feel the beginnings of aching ecstasy spreading through your body.
“So close,” you whimpered, reaching down to hold his fingers against your clit, urging him on as he continued to stroke your sensitive numb. “Right there,” you whispered, your toes curling as you reached the brink. “So good.”
With a shuddering groan, you came apart for him, your walls contracting blissfully around his cock, bringing forth his own release. Nam-Gyu spiled himself inside of you, fucking you until he was sure you’d taken every last drop of him.
You drove him wild, drove him crazy in the best way possible. Your skin was glowing as you pulled him close, your eyes filled with a fucked-out, blissful haze as your lips met his.
“That goddamn perfume,” he smiled against your skin.
