Can u write a Mingyu x reader fic where they would casually hookup but then Mingyu gets a girlfriend and doesnโt know abt the history and when she finds out sheโs intimidated and then at a party Mingyu is by himself and tells u he broke it off for you. Write it however u want ik youโll do amazing ๐๐๐
History || Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
A/n: thank u so so much for this idea!!
Wc: 1,393
Warnings: slightly suggestive, other than that nothing!
MASTERLIST
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It was always supposed to be nothing. That was the unspoken rule. You and Mingyu were never anything official.
You were just two privileged, reckless people with too much free time and too many late-night parties to burn through.
Mingyu would show up fashionably late to parties, expensive cologne clinging to his skin, shirt half buttoned, that confident smirk already knowing youโd end up leaving with him.
Or maybe heโd find you first, hand slipping around your waist like it was second nature. Youโd play it cool. You always played it cool.
Never texted first. Never asked where he was when he wasnโt around. It wasnโt love. It was just convenient. Familiar. Fun.
It started after that summer rooftop party when you ended up in the backseat of his car, your dress hiked up and your lipstick smeared, both of you breathing hard and drunk on each other.
From there, it was sporadic. Sometimes every weekend, sometimes a few months of silence. But it always found its way back.
Those looks across the room, the heat between you when his hand brushed your hip on his way to the bar, the way he said your name like it tasted too good to forget.
No strings. No questions. Until, of course, Na-bi.
The first time you saw them together, it didnโt hit like a punch to the gut. More like a slow, sharp twist. A realisation. She was everything your relationship with Mingyu wasnโt.
He held her hand. Bought her drinks. Let her sit in his lap by the fire pit like he didnโt once tell you he hated when girls clung to him like that.
He didnโt look at you once. Not when you walked past in that white minidress, the one he once yanked up in the back of his car.
Not even when you caught a few of his friends glancing between the two of you like they were waiting for something to happen.
Nope. Mingyu didnโt blink. Not until later, when you caught him sneaking glances during the bonfire.
But by then, Na-bi was curled into his side like a house cat, and you were halfway through your third drink, trying not to care.
You bumped into her at a boutique event a few weeks later, some champagne-soaked fundraiser you didnโt really care about.
She approached you like you were an old friend, voice sugary sweet and words laced with that overly polite charm girls like her wore like perfume.
โYouโre Y/n, right? Iโve heard about you,โ she chirped, smile a little too tight.
โGuessing not from Mingyu.โ
That caught her off guard. A flicker in her expression. Small, but enough. She let out a high-pitched laugh and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
โNo, just from around. People talk, you know?โ
โSure,โ you said, letting your gaze drift past her for a moment. โPeople love to talk.โ
โI didnโt realise you and Mingyu wereโฆ like, close,โ she added, voice casual, but you could tell she was anything but casual.
You raised a brow, leaning back in your chair. โWe werenโt. Just had some fun. At parties. You know how it is.โ
Na-biโs smile froze for half a second. It was almost impressive how quickly she recovered.
โOh,โ she blinked. โI didnโt know that.โ
Of course she didnโt. God forbid his perfect little brunch date knew he used to have you bent over the marble counter in his penthouse kitchen after some industry after-party.
โWell,โ she said, plastering on that sugar-sweet grin again. โThat was before, right? Ancient history.โ
You looked at her, one brow arching. โThatโs one way to put it.โ
There was a moment, just long enough to catch the flicker of something bitter in her eyes.
โWell,โ she said brightly, โI mean, everyone has a past, right? No big deal.โ
โSure,โ you said, voice flat.
She nodded. Smiled wider. But her eyes?โจHer eyes looked like she wanted to throw her champagne in your face.
You didnโt even plan to tell Mingyu. But you saw him again a few days later, walking out of the gym with sunglasses pushed up in his hair.
And maybe it was the heat. Or the memory of Na-biโs stupid fake smile. Or maybe it was just that you hated how small it made you feel, like you were something shameful.
Something to be tucked away and never mentioned. So you called out, โHey, Romeo.โ
He turned, cocking a brow. You approached slowly, arms crossed. โJust wanted to let you know, your little girlfriend knows.โ
His expression didnโt change at first. Just a moment of silence as he studied you. Then he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
โShe asked?โ he muttered.
โNot exactly. Tried to play it off. But she didnโt know. And Iโm guessing thatโs because you never told her.โ
โNo shit, Mingyu,โ you snapped. โBut maybe next time donโt act like Iโm some dirty little secret. You wanna date a wannabe Barbie, fine. Just donโt let her pretend Iโm some story she made up.โ
He looked at you, like he was seeing the edge in your voice. The tightness in your throat. You hated that your heart was pounding. Hated that part of you still cared.
โSheโs not like that,โ he said quietly. โSheโs justโโ
โInsecure?โ you cut in. โTerritorial? Trying to be sweet while throwing daggers with her eyes?โ
His silence was answer enough. You scoffed, shaking your head.
โWhatever, Mingyu. You do what you want. Just keep your new girl from playing nice with me if sheโs got a problem.โ
You turned to walk away, but his voice followed.
โYou miss it?โ
You froze. He didnโt say it smugly. Didnโt even sound cocky. Just honest. You didnโt turn around.
โDo you?โ
Silence. You didnโt need to hear his answer. You already knew.
Then came the party.
A mutual friendโs birthday party. Loud music. Liquor running like tap water. A penthouse packed with people from every social circle imaginable.
You were leaning against the kitchen counter, laughing with some guy you barely knew when you saw him walking in alone.
You didnโt let your smile falter. But it pulled at your mouth in a different way. No Na-bi on his arm. Just him.
And that tension that never really left. He made his way through the room slowly, taking it all in, until finally his eyes met yours.
You tipped your cup toward him. โWhereโs your shadow?โ
โGone.โ
โGone likeโฆ the bathroom? Or gone like dumped-your-ass gone?โ
He slid up next to you, close enough for you to smell the expensive cologne and beer on his breath.
โBroke it off.โ
You blinked. โSeriously?โ
โShe couldnโt drop it,โ he muttered, eyes on your lips before flicking back up to your gaze. โThe whole you and me thing.โ
Your laugh was automatic. โWhat, she thought she was your first?โ
He chuckled once. โNo. She just couldnโt get over how long you and Iโฆ kept going.โ
That stopped you. Your brow rose slowly. โWhat, she thought we hooked up one time at a party and called it?โ
โShe knew I had a past,โ Mingyu said, eyes still on you like he was seeing every memory at once. โBut she didnโt know how far back we went. Or how many times we didnโt say it was over.โ
You looked away, shaking your head. โThat girl needs a thicker skin.โ
โShe thought you were a phase.โ
You scoffed, drinking again. โI was.โ
Mingyu leaned in, voice low now, almost private.
โYeah, wellโฆ funny how none of the others lasted half as long as you.โ
Your heart skipped once. Stupidly. You rolled your eyes.
โDonโt flatter me, Mingyu.โ
โIโm not,โ he said, eyes burning into yours now. โItโs just the truth.โ
And for a second, there it was again. That heat. That thing between you. You looked at him, heart thudding louder than the bass vibrating through the floor.
But before it could go any further, you pushed off the counter and shrugged. โGuess she shouldโve done her homework.โ
You left him standing there. Because if you didnโt, you werenโt sure what would happen next. And youโd already made that mistake before.
But God, did it feel good knowing he still remembered every single time. And that she never stood a chance.
note: lil cutie patootie gyu...oh i know his breeding kink is strong and nasty, he's always probably begging to creampie you ๐คค
"r-right there, gyu, fuck!"
gyu's back must surely be red and stinging with the way your nails are dragging up on his skin at this point, but he can't bring himself to care. not when you feel so good around him, clinging onto him for dear life despite his whole body already nearly crushing you underneath him and your cunt gripping his dick so tightly he can barely work up the strength to pull out.
"feels so good, babygirl," he grunts into your ear, hips moving lazily as he peppers kisses on the side of your face. gyu weakly pulls out and thrusts back in, his cock rubbing that spot in you over and over again. you mewl, throwing your head back, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head at the toe-curling sensation. mingyu feels you tighten even more around him, your vice grip making him weak in the knees. "feels so fucking good. you're so good to me, baby, always taking me so well. bet you'd love for me to fill up your little cunt, huh? breed you till you're so fucking full your pussy's dripping."
you're positive he's fucked you stupid by now, only answering him with pathetic noises and whines. you already feel so full, you don't even know how you'd take more, but you want it. you just can't deny him, can't get enough; so you communicate this by bucking your hip, essentially fucking yourself up to him. his blissful grin etches into the skin of your shoulder, your responsiveness getting him riled up even more.
now mingyu knows he should breed you, fuck you so full of his cum you can't move without worrying about your cunt spilling it. but he wants to hear it from you, wants you to beg for it, so he eggs you on. he once again leans up to press a kiss to your cheek before whispering into your ear, his pants sending shivers up your spine. "tell me, babygirl. tell me how much you want my cum."
with a whine, you squeak out, feeling yourself rocking back and forth harder and harder the more you talked. "p-please, gyu, please fuck me full, b-breed me, f-fuck me full of your c-cum, please!"
have dirty thoughts about gyu? let's talk about them and slut out with me here!
anon: can you imagine being fucked by gyuโฆ in your window apartment.. when mingyu just back fucking youโฆ god please.. ๐ฅด
"Thank god we just cleaned this window, or else I wonโt even be up for this," you groan as Mingyu teasingly grinds his cock against your wet folds behind you. He lets out a breathy laugh; heโd been the one to suggest it after days of letting the thought all but rot his brain with need.
He lets his cock slip between your thighs, your slick dripping down onto him and your thighs. Moving his hips, he moans as the soft skin rubs against him. "Cโmon, it wasnโt even that bad before we cleaned it. Besides, you just have a thing for being seen, you little freak."
"S-shut up- oh, fuck," the tip of his cock brushes against your sensitive clit suddenly, Mingyu chuckling as he catches your moment of weakness. He moves his hand from your hips to your waist, pulling you closer to him before removing one hand from your body to line his cock up with your entrance.
If it werenโt for the window youโre leaning against, your body would completely fall to the floor the moment Mingyu pushes in. His cock stretches your walls, and he canโt seem to tear his eyes away from the sight of your tightness accommodating his girth.
Mingyu groans lowly. "Youโre so fucking tight, sweetheart. Always taking my cock so well, arenโt you, baby?"
Whatever answer you have quickly dies in your throat as Mingyu starts to thrust into you, his pace slow and torturous. Your eyes glaze over and the city lights turn into mere yellow and white blobs when you feel Gyu hitting that soft spot in you, mouth hanging open as your whines get the best of you.
"Gyu, p-please! Ngh, please, g-god, fuck me faster~"
A smirk finds its way onto his face before he takes one of your arms into his hold, bracing you before he quickens his pace. Your head falls slack, legs turning into jelly, and you finally completely fall against the glass. Mingyu groans at the sight of you smushed against the clear object, the warm glow of the lights washing over you. For a moment he feels his chest swell with warmth before it turns into the need to fuck you until youโre cumming on his cock.
Mingyu builds up his tempo until his pelvis is just slamming into the soft flesh of your ass, your moans that are increasing in volume and pitch a sure sign that youโre close. For a moment he lets himself relish the feeling of your velvety walls around him, throwing his head back, making a mental note that you'll have to do this again. Then youโre whining for him, pleading. "G-gyu! Fuck, b-baby, hng, p-please make m-me c-cum~"
"Aww, pretty girl wants to cum on my cock, doesnโt she?" he manages despite feeling himself twitch in you and ever so slightly lose his rhythm. Mingyu recomposes himself before reaching around you to rub harsh circles on your clit, even slapping it, enjoying the way your breath hitches whenever he does so. "Come on, pretty baby, cum for me~ Let your pretty little pussy cream all over my cock."
The moment those words leave his lips, your body immediately caves in. You can feel yourself gushing as your orgasm crashes down on you, positively making more of a mess on Gyu and yourself. Mingyu loses his rhythm and decides to sheathe himself completely in your heat, flooding it with his warm cum. Pitiful whines leave your lips as you take in the way he fills you sinfully, feeling globs of cum drip down your thighs.
You hear him sigh behind you before he coos at you quietly. You weakly turn your head slightly to meet his gaze. At this he feels the warm feeling come back to his chest, making him move to collect you in his arms. Planting a kiss on the side of your temple, he whispers, "Thatโs my good girl."
have dirty thoughts about gyu? let's talk about them and slut out with me here! i miss having regular anons with the cute nicknames </3
your own parking spot, a quaint office beside his gigantic one, a ridiculously pleasing salary, and you get to suck him off on days when his shoulders were too stiff and his tone was too stern.
today was one of those days.
mingyu looked at you intensely as you kitten-licked the head of his cock, the tip of your tongue catching the bead of precum just starting to form on the slit. he let out a satisfied sigh as you wrapped your lips around the head, before going down, taking more and more of him ever so slowly. he let one hand travel to your head, fingers gripping tight at your hair before he moved it to make a makeshift ponytail.
he groaned as he realized the new sort of dominance he had over you.
mingyu smirked, pushing your head down further than youโve ever dared to. โyou look so cute when you choke on daddyโs cock, baby. how can someone look so cute while doing something so naughty? is it because you love daddyโs cock, hmm?โ
your thighs squeezed together at his words, core turning into hot, molten lava. a moan rumbled in your throat, your legs rubbing against each other, trying to appease your rapidly growing arousal. he pushed you down again before tugging on your hair, โdaddy asked you a question, baby.โ
your lips unlatched from his tip with a loud, wet 'pop!' and a thin string of spit stretched as a bridge between the gap he'd made. you looked up at him through hooded eyes, head slightly thrown back. your answer came with a whine, โyes, daddy. i-i look c-cute b-because- because i l-love- ah- y-your cock.โ
his other hand, the one that wasnโt holding your hair, went down to your throat and took a hold of it, squeezing lightly as if to experiment. โdaddy, please.โ you whined, and you felt his cock twitch in your hand.
mingyu looked down at you, a knowing and a devilish smirk on his lips. โwell, since you asked daddy so nicely. what do you think of the windows, baby doll?โ
have dirty thoughts about gyu? let's talk about them and slut out with me here!
boyfriend!scoups who knows very well that a dog that barks a lot rarely bites. You can try to keep up appearances, call him an asshole, roll your eyes, or tell him to shut up whenever he's being an insufferable brat, but deep down, he knows that all that attitude of yours is nothing but an act. He knows that the second he gets you on your knees in front of him, that whole serious-woman faรงade is going to disappear like smoke. And he doesn't waste time with gentleness; one heavy, firm hand grabs the back of your head, bunching your hair into a grip that forces you to look up at him while he guides his thick, throbbing cock straight to your throat. He makes you take every inch, loving the feeling of filling you completely. He adores the sight of you there, your eyes glossy and watery as you fight against your gag reflex, trying to adjust to his size. He watches with a satisfied smile as your throat trembles and tightens around him, leaving you breathless and voiceless. You try to protest, try to call his name, but all you can manage are pathetic moans and muffled choking sounds as he sinks even deeper, reminding you in the dirtiest, rawest way possible that you'd much rather be down there sucking him off than winning any argument.
boyfriend!scoups who treats your body like a canvas, except he doesn't use paintbrushes; he uses his teeth, his tongue, and brute force. He's obsessed, a damned animal in heat with an almost unhealthy need to leave his mark on every inch of you, without the slightest hint of subtlety. He devotes himself to marking you as though he's claiming territory, sucking at the soft skin of your neck with ravenous hunger until your chest is covered in purple and crimson bruises, screaming to the world who that body belongs to. He doesn't stop there; he digs his fingers hard into your hips, squeezing the pliant flesh until the shape of every finger is left behind, making sure you feel the weight of his possessiveness in every movement.
And the thought of you first thing in the morning, panicking in front of the mirror trying to cover the hickeys blooming across your collarbone, is the peak of entertainment to him. He lets out a rough laugh, amused by your hopeless attempt to hide from everyone what a spoiled little slut you are behind closed doors.
boyfriend!scoups who bends you over the edge of the bed, leaving you in a position of complete vulnerability, your ass raised and exposed, practically begging for his wicked gaze. When he leans in, there's no warning or tenderness; his hand comes down hard, delivering a sharp, well-placed smack right against the softest, most sensitive part of your ass. The crack echoes through the room, loud and unforgiving, making you let out a startled squeak as your toes curl from the sudden sting. He chuckles under his breath while pressing his lips against the shell of your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. In that deep, masculine voice dripping with delicious arrogance, he murmurs, "Poor thing... taking it all so well. You like it when your man reminds you who this body belongs to, don't you, baby? Just stay nice and still for me, hm? Let's see how long you last before you start begging for my cock."
boyfriend!scoups who takes an almost sick, deeply erotic sense of pride in the angry red scratches you leave scattered across the broad expanse of his back. He'll be standing in front of the bathroom mirror after a particularly wild round, shirtless, his skin gleaming with sweat while his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. He runs his fingers over the uneven, burning lines where your nails dug deep into his muscles, trying to hold on so you wouldn't slip while he pounded into you. He isn't angryโquite the opposite. He practically glows with absolute satisfaction as he admires the trail of desperation and pleasure you've left behind on his skin. The moment he catches your eyes through the mirror, that half-lidded stare still heavy with primitive desire and lingering lust, he lets out a muffled laugh. "Just look what you did to me, kitten... trying to destroy me?"
boyfriend!scoups who has absolutely zero interest in being "gentle" or keeping up any sort of etiquette when it comes to your pleasure. He can smell your arousal hanging in the air; he knows that just hearing the tone of his voice is enough to have your pussy soaking wet, throbbing, begging for his cock to stretch you open and fill you. He looks at you with that infuriatingly smug little smile tugging at the corner of his lips, pure provocation. "Look at the mess you've already made just from hearing a few words... You're nothing but a needy little slut for my dick, aren't you? Now spread those legs."
boyfriend!scoups who's absolutely obsessed with the look of pure bliss on your face when he uses his own fingers to spread your slick all over your folds, making sure every inch of your entrance is coated. He's in no hurry; he wants to hear the wet, filthy sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you, that rhythmic mix of suction and friction. And when he finally decides to replace them with his cock, he has no intention of taking it slow; he drives into you with one heavy, deep, forceful thrust that makes your entire body shudder and your eyes roll back. The thick head slams against your cervix with a harsh, punishing impact that tears a sharp cry from your throat. He keeps up that brutal, relentless rhythm, the sound of his broad pelvis slapping against your soaked skin creating loud cracks of flesh against flesh that swallow every other sound in the room. He couldn't care less about elegance or looking like a gentleman; his only goal is to bury himself as deeply inside you as possible, his heavy balls striking against you with every merciless thrust. Thick, possessive arms wrap around your waist while his large, calloused hands dig into your hips to anchor you in place, hauling you back onto him with raw strength so he can hit that deepest, sweetest spot even harder.
boyfriend!scoups who couldn't care less if the sheets end up tangled beyond recognition or if the headboard keeps pounding rhythmically against the wall loudly enough to wake the neighbors halfway down the street. If anything, the thought of just how noisy the two of you are sends a delicious rush of adrenaline through him.
boyfriend!scoups who's the absolute master of duality. One moment, he's sitting on the couch beside you acting like the biggest idiot on the planet, pulling ridiculous faces and sticking his tongue out just to watch you roll your eyes and grumble about how childish he is. But before you even have time to process the shift, that very same tongue that had been teasing you moments ago is now working over every inch of your body with ravenous precision, trailing down over your mound before disappearing between your thighs. He devours you with such visceral, consuming hunger that you're left completely speechless, reduced to nothing but helpless moans as he loses himself in your warmth. And the craziest part is how those same handsโthe ones you know can soothe your menstrual cramps with the gentlest touch over your bellyโcan, in the next instant, slide down to your ankle, fingers closing around it with possessive firmness before giving one powerful tug, lifting one of your legs until it comes to rest over his broad shoulder.
boyfriend!scoups who uses you as his own personal outlet, the release no crowded bar or bottle of whiskey could ever compare to. When it feels like the world is falling apart and stress is boiling through his veins, it's your body he seeks to unload every bit of that pent-up frustration. He doesn't come home looking for romance; he comes home wanting to have you in the rawest way possible, so primitive it almost feels like he's trying to become one with your body. It's messy, sweaty, driven by animalistic urgency. Every thrust is heavy and rhythmic; each time he drives his cock into you, the impact of his broad pelvis slamming against your ass echoes throughout the room in loud, wet cracks of skin against skin, filling the silence between his low curses and your hoarse moans as he fills you to your limit. It's a dance of friction and heat, a chaos of sweat and desire where he tries to lose himself in the tight grip of your cunt, using you to silence the noise inside his own head.
And yet, the whole thing changes in a way that leaves you completely weak. The moment he reaches his peak and spills his hot, thick release inside you, the beast who'd been pounding into you with such fury seems to disappear entirely. He doesn't pull out right away; instead, he shifts, draping his heavy body over yours and pulling you into a hug from behind as though he wants to melt you into his chest. The contrast is intoxicatingly insane: the man who'd been fucking you as though he wanted to break you only seconds ago has suddenly become the gentlest creature alive. He starts pressing slow, lazy kisses along the curve of your shoulder, trailing up your neck with such tenderness that your whole body slowly unwinds after all that brutality. The strong arms that had held you down so firmly now wrap around you with quiet protectiveness, guiding your head against his chest where you can hear his heartbeat still pounding hard as it gradually settles back into rhythm. He takes advantage of the angle to leave one sloppy, warm kiss after another across your neck before making his way up to your face, peppering your skin with affection that feels almost impossibly soft. It's in moments like these, between one kiss and the next, that he makes one thing perfectly clear: no matter how rough, brutal, or out of control he gets in the heat of the moment, you'll always be his little princess.
summary: cuddling with cheol after a terrible day.
tags: seuncheol x fem!reader, established relationship, fluff, pet names (cheollie, baby/babe, princess), domestic, mentions of menstruation/menstrual cycle, slighty suggestive.
โCheollie!โ you whimpered, crossing the front door with the biggest pout on your lips and glistening eyes. That was enough for Seungcheol to stop doing whatever he was busy with and give you his full attention.
He was sprawled all over the couch, watching some TV junk food in a plain white oversized tee and pajama pants. He looked very cozy and relaxed. Yet, in the moment you started walking towards him, looking like a kicked puppy, all his muscles tensed, then he immediately fixed his posture, opened his arms, and pulled you into his lap.
โWhat happened?โ he said with a gentle voice, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, โMm?โ
โI had a terrible dayโ, you hid your face in the junction of his neck and shoulder, melting into him.
โDid you?โ
You nodded.
โI woke up late, with a terrible tummy ache and crampsโ, you began telling him your tale of woe, โmy breakfast was tasteless, my coffee went all cold and disgusting because it took me a while to finish my boring breakfast, and you know how I hate cold coffee,โ you pouted.
โYeah, baby, I know.โ his hand found its way beneath your skirt, tenderly caressing the side of your bare thigh under the thin fabric.
โThen there was so much traffic, it was unbearable. The weather is so hot and I felt like melting throughout the day. My lunch was also bad and I missed you the whole dayโฆโ you whined again, hugging him tightly.
Choi Seungcheol is a very observant man. He knew a scenario like this would happen soon, since last week you were all over him, touching here and there, always looking for an excuse to be close, and actively seeking intimacy with him.
At first, he thought it was your ovulation making you need him so bad, but then, in the middle of a messy and handsy make-out session, he noticed your breasts felt slightly heavier. They were more tender and sensitive than usual. He did a quick calculation and realized that your period was just around the corner.
He didnโt complain about the proximity whatsoever. He enjoyed intimacy with you just as much as you, but he knew he had to be prepared for anything you needed; he bought painkillers, refilled your pads drawer with large and overnight-sized pads. He bought some chocolate and your favorite red fruit tea. He even bought you two new sets of cotton panties just to make sure you had something comfortable to wear.
Youโve told him multiple times that he doesnโt have to do all that, that you can buy your period supplies by yourself, but he just wonโt listen.
It's not like you donโt appreciate it. You do. And you always keep in mind how attentive he is. You simply donโt want to feel like a bother.
The first time you voiced the fear of annoying him with your menstrual stuff one random night in bed, he almost gasped. The expression on his face was nearly offended.
โBabeโฆ What?โ he blinked twice, before practically smothering you in bed, โdonโt you ever think such a thing again. Nothing about you could ever bother me.โ
โYouโre being a little dramatic.โ
โI canโt let you think you could ever annoy me with something like that. Maybe with refilling the water pitcher, but not this."
โUgh, back off, you're so annoyingโ you pushed his shoulders, trying to get him off of you, but it was useless; heโs just too big and strong.
โMm, no,โ he teased, and peppered your face with small kisses between whispers of sweet nothings.
Youโre truly grateful heโs stubborn because, if he werenโt, he wouldnโt be cuddling you on the couch. His hand deep under your dress, stroking the small of your back, where he knows it always aches the most when you have cramps.
Heโs carefully listening to you, kissing your forehead every once in a while, and holding you so steadily, he grounds you with his soothing caresses.
โTomorrow will be a brighter day, princess. And if itโs not, Iโll be here just to hold you and love you. As always.โ
Repost from my previous writing blog aj-cupid. I'm not stealing! Also, let me know what you think if you didn't read it in my old blog. ;)
Summary: It's been a while since Mingyu and yourself have explored life outside of your busy schedules. Lucky for you, an engagement announcement leads to a weeklong vacation, and it brings a little more than just relaxation and a multitude of reasons why you fell in love in the first place.
Pairing: Mingyu x afab!reader | ft. cheol & chan
wc: ~9.2k
tw/tags: slice of life, established relationship, long-time sweethearts to lemme give u my last name, non-idol members, fluff, smut, sort of pwp?? but there's SOME plot, very needy and whiney Gyu (no surprise there), sort of dom!reader, pussy whipped gyu, semi-exhibitionism (friends are close by), blue balling, dry humping, oral fixations, TEETH, come swallowing, slight pain kink, mouth fingering, hair pulling, pet names; puppy, baby, babe, love, brat, dork, pretty boy etc...
< envy yaps: this wasn't the fic I intended to post for gyu, but since i scrapped the nearly 90% completed one, i had to make up for it in between my training / meetings at work :( anyways, i hope you all enjoy it either way + can excuse my lack of posts, i have too many scenes playing in my head but no idea or motivation to figure out how to fit it all into less than a million redundant words + phrases lol. please like, reblog and comment! it lets me know to keep posting!! xoxo
"Are you sure this is the right place?"
"This is the only address they sent. So... yes?"
"Okay... just don't hit anything on the way in. Like that log--"
"Oh fuck."
"Mingyu! Seriously?"
"I didn't see it! I swear!"
Your boyfriend holds up both palms, attempting to appease the cranky beast wearing your skin. It had been a four-hour drive. A long, winding, and gps-failing drive. And he had the inkling that you weren't too ecstatic about... well, anything at this point.
Within the first hour of the road trip, you'd managed to recreate a chaotic version of the once carefully coordinated map your friends had sent you; with loops and turns they surely hadn't suggested. And after passing the third intended exit and cursing your innocent boyfriend for being a 'passenger peasant', you forfeited the wheel to him on the side of a random, desolate highway.
Needless to say, Mingyu was far past the point of redemption. You'd made that very clear to him at the last pit stop; His breathing was too loud. He reeked of the cologne he'd practically bathed himself in this morning. His lips were too dry for kissing away your frustration. His directions were shit. He couldn't avoid any of the potholes you'd warned him of from nearly a mile back--
Then, to top it all off, he just rammed your recently-fully paid-off Jeep into a stray log you'd pointed out to him far too late. But at least you both made it to the location in one piece!
How long would that last? He doesn't know, and he isn't going to stay in the car long enough find out.
"Hey! Glad you guys made it!" Seungcheol's hair bounces while striding over to you, assisting you both with carrying bags and other miscellaneous items you'd packed into the trunk.
"We were beginning to think we should file a missing person report for you once the three-hour mark hit." He admits, tongue-in-cheek.
The glare you flash at your partner lands cooly against the side of his paled face, not once connecting with the eyes you so desperately wanted to bore every ounce of your frustration into.
Mingyu doesn't dare to face you, nor mention any true details when he responds to his friend, "Ha! Yeah.. we just made a few stops on the way to take pictures and stuff."
Thankfully, Seungcheol doesn't probe after that and instead ushers you both inside to greet everyone else inside the lake house.
It was almost a month ago when Seungcheol and his girlfriend had finally announced their engagement. And along with a congratulatory message, Chan had proposed the idea of celebrating with a weeklong getaway to the lake house his family rented out occasionally. Mingyu and yourself were invited; hence your extended travel.
With the three couples now reunited, the group ventured into the conversation regarding their well-anticipated vacation and the tasks and activities they were hoping to indulge in throughout the following days.
Despite the rocky start, you too had been eagerly counting down the days leading up to today. It'd been so long since you had requested any time off from work, let alone treated yourself to such a relaxing and well-deserved vacation.
As of late, work had seeped into your personal schedule and set things off balance for you, and in return, you'd gained a daily migraine and a newfound passion for bed rotting on the days you did have time to yourself.
However, you weren't completely at a loss. Mingyu was there to uplift you, coddle you, cheer you on when deadlines were fraying your last scraps of hope.
You couldn't possibly confine your gratitude and adoration for your boyfriend into only a few words, so when the opportunity arose for you both to spend quality time together, you were beyond elated.
You both needed this.
After a few minutes of chatting and catching up with the two couples, Mingyu and yourself plod along to the bedroom Chan had assigned to you.
Mingyu wastes no time upon entering the room, carelessly tossing your shared belongings onto one of the two full sized beds and flopping face down into the other.
"Man, I'm drained." He groans.
The same fatigue weighs unbearably on your shoulders, dampening your mood completely. Huffing, you trudge toward your strewed bags, sluggishly moving them off of the bed that Mingyu has apparently allotted to you.
You do your best to ward off your frustration with Mingyu's carelessness, opting to give him the benefit of the doubt considering he was forced to endure your irritable attitude for the majority of the drive.
You just hoped this wasn't some type of foreshadowing for the rest of the week.
"You could've at least put the stuff on the ground so I could lay down too." You complain halfheartedly.
In one moment, he's lifting his head from the comforter to peer over at you with a pinched expression, and in the next, he's bounding towards you before you can fully register it. His hands brace your waist, firm and intentional as he directs you to the now warm spot he previously claimed.
"This is our bed." He states forwardly while bending at the knee to untie your shoes. "Did you think just 'cause you're a little moody and on vacation mode meant you'd catch a break from me?"
You blow out your flushed cheeks and sigh dramatically, too embarrassed and exhausted to play into his banter. His eyes trail your features for a beat when he stands. Soon after, the warm pads of his fingers mark a path across your skin, laying delicately against your jaw.
"Tired?"
Nodding wordlessly, you watch him climb into the bed beside you. He reels you in close, caging you against him with a firm hand on the small of your back as his opposite fist props his head up.
"...'m sorry for snapping at you." You murmur coyly.
Mingyu's blinks slow. His softened stare shifting to your lips.
You notice. You always do.
"I know." He speaks. "It's been a long day, but at least we're here. You can rest up and dream peacefully about me now."
You grunt at his comment, feigning disgust to tease him. The grin on his face is stupidly endearing, and you find yourself mirroring his expression despite your eyes fluttering shut.
It surprises you at times; four years have passed and his devoted attachment to you has yet to dwindle. Or as his family claims, his puppy love hasn't fizzled out. And at this rate, you doubt it ever will.
"Don't act like you don't dream about me, baby. I've heard you calling for me in your sleep a few times."
You peel your eyes open to squint at him. "I have not! And I don't dream about you, you dork."
"You do." He smirks before flicking your forehead in retaliation with the argument of being 'even' now. "It's okay though, I don't mind. It lets me know I'm doing my job."
"And what exactly is your job?"
Leaning into your space, his entirety invades your senses. Your skin prickles under his cool breaths as he noses at your chin, chuckling when you alert him of being ticklish. As if he hasn't mapped every inch of you for years, well versed in the handful of spots that have you writhing, crying, and whimpering for him.
"My job is..." He trails off.
Unsuspecting, you're forced to endure his unprovoked attack. His touch rakes over your sides repeatedly, breaching every inch of skin beneath your sweatshirt to place featherlike strokes along your body. You struggle underneath his tortuous ministrations, clawing at his arms helplessly while begging for mercy.
Only, the pinch to his bicep, the boisterous squeal and the writhing of your torso seem to egg him on further, his grip on you unrelenting as he continues to tickle you.
He eventually pauses to chide into your ear, "My job is to love you so much that you don't ever have to wonder what anything otherwise feels like. You are my everything, and I'm yours. Whether you want me or not."
Your chest inflates with each erratic inhale you take to recollect yourself.
You're familiar with Mingyu's empowerment, his reassurance, his effortless passion for all things involving you.
But this?
This was unrehearsed. Raw. Truth right at the core.
"Gyu," Your voice wavers, cracking under the straining lump in your throat. Your chin trembles slightly at the sudden whiplash he's put your emotions through.
"Are you crying? Why are you crying? Please don't cry!" He blurts, sandwiching your face in between his palms until your lips are puckered.
Your digits wrap around his wrists, reinforcing his hold as he captures your lips in his. Dramatics be damned, your boyfriend knew exactly what to do to get his way. He was a hopeless romantic through and through, and when it came to craving your affection, he'd do and/or say anything to woo you into submission.
Tonight's situation was no different.
His laugh bounces within the four walls of your room; a sound worth bottling for later.
His hands are gone from one moment to the next, leaving you slightly breathless and admittedly dizzy from the sudden switch up.
Still hovering over you, Mingyu watches you closely, smile stretched across the dewy slope of his cheeks. He knows his wires are most likely crossed somewhere because your mere presence stuns him to near cardiac arrest every time his eyes find you.
And its moments like this, pressed in close, that he often wonders; if he gets any closer to you, would he be able to catch the sound of your barreling heart too?
With Mingyu deep in thought, you utilize the brief moment to capture his wrists and pin them above his head once you've mustered enough strength to roll him onto his back. The abrupt tackle is all it takes to throw Mingyu off his axis, landing directly underneath your scrutinizing stare.
Again, call him deranged, but he doesn't perceive anything besides love behind your crazed appearance. If anything, it's what fuels his own deepest desires; shaping his lips into the lopsided, smitten smile he wears now.
You give his hips a tantalizing squeeze between your knees, calling his name to break him out of his lovestruck trance. He responds with a feigned groan accompanied by a dramatic toss of his head.
"Spare me this once, beautiful. I can't take it, you're just too powerful."
You fend off a smile and clutch his wrists a little tighter.
The same laugh from earlier cuts through the air as he clenches and unclenches his fists under your grip, peeling one of his eyes open to assess you from his peripheral vision.
"Are you enjoying this?" You jest.
"Not yet." He quips while simultaneously escaping your restraints and locking your lips with his, moving starved and unmeasured.
You revel in the moan that coats your tongue, elated when his body responds under your grasp via the flex of his thighs and the subtle tremble in the hands curved over your ass. You're eager to get him closer to the edge of his ascending pleasure, working your hips against the front of his taut jeans with vigor.
"Guys? We're heading out to the store to pick up a few groceries for the week--"
The gasp at the door indicates a new presence and based on the sudden dip in her usual tone, you know you've officially earned yourself a lifetime's worth of apologies on both yours and Mingyu's behalf. Not only to Nari, but to Chan; who just so happened to have been tailing his girlfriend closely.
With Mingyu pinned below you and still actively holding your ass, you strain your upper half to face the couple at the door.
"I'm so sorry... um. We'll meet you outside in five minutes."
Per your boyfriend's logic, the fuss isn't significant enough to derail his plans as he proceeds to chase after your attention. He's so far gone, so nonchalant enough to wriggle his way into a seated position just to litter the side of your throat with open-mouthed kisses.
Blanching, you shove at his chest, blindly fighting him off behind you.
The embarrassment of being found in the least demure position possible sets every inch of your skin ablaze, Mingyu's suctioning mouth and ravenous nipping proving to be little help.
Nari has since turned around while Chan shuts your door with a clearing of his throat. You hang your head as he calls from the hall, "Yup! We'll be outside! Take your time."
"Finally." Mingyu grumbles, squirming from the distance your extended arm supplies against his chest. Leveling him with an incredulous stare, you shove his shoulders until he falls backwards onto the bed.
"Are you kidding me? You couldn't at least wait until they left to give me a hickey?" You seethe while marching towards the door, unfazed by his tormented cries.
"You've officially lost all pussy privileges, Mingyu."
"Wait! No!"
The atmosphere is tainted beneath the evening's burnt orange gleam, nestled into the crooks and curves of the six bodies draped across lawn chairs, just short of the lake's dock.
The bonfire Seungcheol had started an hour or so ago breezes past your exposed ankles from under the towel sitting at your waist, surfacing a layer of goosebumps across your skin.
Draped over your shoulders are Mingyu's arms, embracing you from where he stands behind your chairโmindlessly seeking the comfort of your kinship. Instinctually, your body melts into his touch, tacitly imploring for more.
Spending years essentially conjoined at the hip pays off in moments like this; when Mingyu doesn't rely on a single verbal cue to understand each and every one of your voiceless quirks, habits and requests.
It's how he's able to identify your wordless plea now; to which he honorably responds to with a feather light kiss to the crown of your head.
He murmurs a string of praise into your hair, planting another kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder and inhaling the fresh aroma of your sun kissed flesh.
"You cold?" He asks while running the tips of his fingers up and down your arms.
You lift your chin to peer behind you, coming face to face with your lover. He smiles, an authentic, exclusive gesture dedicated for your soul only. You mirror it with your own, disregarding the beer you had in your hold to cradle one of sun-tanned cheeks.
"Pretty girl." He coos.
Your head swims with pleasure, keen to exist in this intimate bubble that encapsulates you both, even if it's for a fleeting moment. Your surroundings morph into background noise as you shut your eyes temporarily, basking in his affection.
One of his hands leaves your arm, alternatively rooting yours in its place against his cheek to press his lips to the inside of your palm. He lingers there for a moment before pulling away, a faint trace of a frown splitting between his brows.
"You are cold."
You shrug nonchalantly without looking away, gauging his response curiously. He fidgets with the strap of your bikini top briefly.
"As much as I love admiring you in this cute little number, I prefer to have my girl fully bundled up and warm when I kiss her."
"I know but if I go inside to change, I won't want to come back out and I really don't want the night to end yet.." You whine, already pulling away from his hold to focus on the sea of overlapping conversations around you.
"I know, I know, but I can't risk having you catch a cold. Come on. We'll be quick, I promise."
You give a defeated, begrudging wave to the group as you finish your beer, stalling for a moment in silent hope of convincing Mingyu to stay a little longer.
Being the expert in all things regarding you, he catches on and gives you a disapproving shake of his head before taking measures into his own hands.
Supporting your thighs and head in his arms, Mingyu lifts you from your chair and makes the effortless trek back to the lodge. Your sandal-clad feet swing aimlessly from their airborne height, occasionally landing against his hip as he shuffles through the doors.
After shouldering past the final obstacle leading to your bedroom, Mingyu sets you down at the edge of the bed with a chaste kiss, then tasks himself with scavenging through your bag for a warmer outfit.
You watch the bulk of his muscles flex with his movements, grateful for the afternoon's swimming session for blessing you now with the mouthwatering sight of your shirtless boyfriend.
The soft tune he hums under his breath comes to a pause as he returns with a neat stack of clothes, claiming the space in between your legs to hand them over to you.
"I can't believe you were out there freezing your ass off. And for what? To torment me with your beauty? 'Cause it worked."
You can't help the boisterous cackle that slips from your throat, creasing your eyes into crescents as you smile mischievously.
"Let's get you out of this poor excuse of a bathing suit." He suggests sweetly. "I'll help you get nice and warm, 'kay?"
"Only if you also put a shirt on becauseโwhat was it that you said?โOh; I prefer my man to be nice and warm when I suck his dick."
He's in the middle of unbuckling your shorts when his fingers tighten their pinched grip at your zipper. "I don't recall saying anything about that."
"Hm, maybe not, but the implication was there."
He peers up at you incredulously and you grin.
Mingyu's own fond chuckle combines with your lingering giggles, nostalgia settling deep into that familiar nook in your chest. The nook that treasured this banter, this closeness, this love you'd laid a claim on long before you both had made anything official in the beginning.
The memory manifests in your mind; of Mingyu's distant laughter when you'd rant to him about trivial situations at work until you were red in the face, or when you'd unintentionally allow your face to speak for you in awkward situations and he'd laugh throughout his reminder for you to reign it in. It being your chronic RBF.
And even during the quietest of moments, when he'd invite you to his quaint, unfurnished apartment and you'd both lay on the floor for hours, laughing at nothing and everything at the same time.
It didn't matter as long as you were together, enjoying the natural easiness of coexisting in the myriad of moments you knew to be your narrative's budding storyline.
You blink away the reminiscent tears threatening to spill over, pivoting your attention to the present Mingyu.
He's caught on to your silence, of course, and has already begun to catch your rolling tears with his thumb. He doesn't utter a word to you, and you prefer it that way. You're confident in his ability to read you and all of your feelings, anyways.
His forehead nudges yours playfully as he leans forward, guiding you to lay flat on your back with his body caging yours from above. His delicate touch ebbs away at the remnants of your overwhelming mood, supplying you with the attentiveness you accept with open arms.
Your smile gradually fades into a much softer, vulnerable simper.
"Well," You prompt, voice raspy while drawing your gaze to the rich, velvety depth of his fawn-eyed stare. "You said you'd keep me warm, so get to it, big guy."
There isn't a hint of hesitation in his movements as he dips his head to nip at your jaw. A bolt of greed strikes through you and straight to your core, sparking your sensitivity by tenfold.
You exhale a weak sigh while he works his way down your torso before parking his mouth at the hem of your swimming bottoms. Your eyes meet shortly. Mingyu pauses, awaiting the green flag. For permission.
You give him a persistent nod, and he disappears out of reach, collapsing to his knees and cradling the back of your thighs in his large hands. You're approaching the brink of impatience when his fingers remove your bottoms with one swift yank, admiring your bareness to its full potential with the barrier between him and your sweet cunt now long gone.
Your toes curl in anticipation of what's to come. Your mouth salivating at the mere idea of having him so close when you already feel so high, heedlessly plummeting yourself deeper into your crazed infatuation.
The creeping presence of his mouth on your folds is nothing but a short-lived greeting. A farewell to your libido before it even had the chance to introduce itself.
You practically howl out in protest as he curls his fingers around your ankles, guiding a new set of panties and sweats up your legs and then having the audacity to place twoโemphasis on the TWOโpathetic pecks to each of your calves on the way up.
Mingyu's shoulders quiver at the expense of his breathless laughter.
Yes. He is Laughing.
Laughing at you? With you? You don't know.
And at this point, you don't bother with the details, choosing instead to dedicate the entirety of your frustration to him and his entire bloodline.
"Oh you're such a jerk." You hiss while launching yourself up into a seated position.
"You know, I'm beginning to think you enjoy having blue balls."
"You're the only horny one here, babe. I'm chillin'." He replies, smug.
"Besides, weren't you the one who put the pussy ban in place literally three days ago?"
You offer him a scoff and cross your arms over your chest as he reaches for your bikini top. His hands freeze midair when you peel it off yourself and wretch your t-shirt from the bed, grumbling under your breath while dragging it over your head.
You stomp your way towards the door before turning back, glowering.
"Don't come crawling to me when your dick is bordering falling off later."
Your snide warning weighs on Mingyu's lower abdomen as his eyes trail after your retreating form. A troubled sigh enters the room as he changes, thoughts scrambled while he sifts through his luggage for a fresh pair of socks.
His fingers graze over the distinct velvet material cradled at the bottom of the suitcase before settling on what he'd been searching for, combing through his disheveled hair with the opposite hand.
"Three more days, two more nights." He murmurs to himself.
"I can do this."
It's in the wee hours of Friday morning when your dreams depart and the discomfort of your racing thoughts replace them. There's something off, something missing, and it urges your eyes to flutter beneath your eye lids, frantic.
You hear the muffled presence of someone rustling in the hallway from beyond your door first; piquing your interest enough to jostle you out of your slumber. The second peculiarity presents itself in the chilling absence of your partner, Mingyu.
The seemingly perfect cut-out of his frame has been left in his place atop the crumpled sheets, indicating that he was laying with you at some point. The question was; where was he now?
You're tossed into an oblivion of questions and what-if scenarios coursing through your groggy headspace. With a rub of your eyes and a glance at the time on your phone, you peel the comforters back and tread towards the door on unsteady legs.
The noise has since traveled further out when you turn the knob and step out into the night's dim ocean of blue hues. A dull glint cascading through the curtained windows and over the oakwood features of the home illuminates your path.
Your head swivels towards the slight movement in your peripheral, your sleep-glazed stare catching sight of a shadowed figure hunched over the kitchen counter.
Had you not accompanied Chan on the task of locking up and securing the home every night, you would have crawled beneath the covers as tears clung to your lashes, dreading the unknown outcome of having an intruder, out for blood, roaming inside the house while everyone slept.
Thankfully, your safety in the home was undebatable, and far more importantly, you're beyond unamused by the rude disruption of your sleep to question your next decision.
After hearing the soft clank of glass and Mingyu's recognizable husky curse, you mindlessly saunter his way and instinctively embrace him from behind as he's faced away from you.
His body jerks and a sharp yelp slips out. Whipping around in your arms, Mingyu gives you a once over and his once bugging eyes soften with familiarity. He pulls you in closer to his chest, hand forking through your hair as you rest against him.
โWhatโre you doing up?โ You voice is slightly muffled by his shirt.
โCouldnโt sleep,โ he answers, frowning. โJust kept thinking... so I came out to get some water.โ
You adjust your head to look up at him; eyes now fixated on his milky brown irises. His face blooms into a passive smile, cupping your cheek in his large palm.
โThinking โbout what?โ You murmur.
His unoccupied hand rests above your tail bone, inching lower and lower as his breath pulls into a sharp inhale.
โAboutโฆyou.โ He admits and despite just having woken up, your nervous system is already kicking and running wild at the statement.
โMe?โ You frown slightly, curious. โWhat about me?โ
You follow the motion of his lolled head cocking backwards, his eyes now facing the ceiling as he offers a pensive hum. His fingers lock around your hips, keeping you close.
โEverything.โ He admits.
โYour eyes, your lips, yourโฆ breathtaking presence.โ
When he returns to you, the cream light from the kitchen frames his features with the precision of a gallery artist's newest work, adding highlight to the peaks and shading to the angled impressions of his face, hair and body.
He's unquestionably stunning.
And he's yours.
Your mouth crashes against his pillowy lips long before your brain can convince you to do otherwise.
You relish in the pressure his fingers dimple your skin with, your lips dancing in the practiced waltz you're incapable of loving any less.
The soft smacking sound of your mouths rings between you before you're detouring to pepper the rest of his face with delicate pecks.
His cheeks tighten and morph into a wide grin when you brush over them, thinning out as you hover over his chin. You notice the restless tick in his jaw and pull away to assess him further, only to be reeled back in by the back of your head.
The hand in your hair is sturdy, tangling your locks into a makeshift leash while his other works at your jaw, applying pressure to your flushed cheeks to purse your lips together for him.
Your knees have locked up. Your feet feel heavy and your arms are slung haphazardly around his waist. The level of submission you've delivered to him on a silver platter is astounding to you, considering he's been avoiding your advances for the entirety of the week. Even if it was your doing.
And you almost find it aggravating how easily your body responds to him. Needy, desperate, aching for him.
โIโve been,โ he captures your mouth with his, vulgar and starved. โSo patient.โ Kiss. โSo well behaved.โ Another kiss. โSo you could truly relax and avoid being cooped up in bed with me..."
He surfaces for a moment to breathe, eyeing your dazed expression in between. When your eyes meet his, they're glassy, dilated and so full of lust that it drives him crazy. He dives back in, tongue and mouth unrelenting against your moans.
Another break in the kiss gifts him the chance to continue his thoughts.
"But you always wreck me. Always muddle my mind with your sly little remarks, your needy eyes that follow me around, and your perfect fucking mouth that smiles, frowns, and kisses me every day."
โGyu,โ you whimper when he hikes a knee between your thighs, flexing the taut muscle into your clothed center. โWe.. mmh.. we canโt.โ
His teeth graze your bottom lip viciously, tugging at the plump flesh until you wince and he can taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.
โI can't hold back anymore, baby. I gave you more than enough time to rest and enjoy your time here, but now I'm crawling back to you, just like you said I would.โ
Your protest dies in your throat with the harsh grasp of his hand cupping your pussy over your shorts. You can feel every single one of his fingers digging into your soaked flesh, truly testing your restraint when his lips trail after yours while you wriggle your way out of his reach.
You don't make it far before he's scooping you up by the back of your thighs and hauling you into the living room. The wind is knocked out of your lungs when he tosses you onto the cushions of the couch and climbs over you.
"Mingyu," You whisper-yell through gritted teeth. "We can't. It's like three in the morning and our friends are literally a few feet away, sleeping!"
If looks could kill, you wouldโve been six feet under about two minutes ago with how sharpened his dark and nearly bottomless eyes have become.
Mingyuโs eyes bore into your soul, inky and challenging. You cross your arms over your chest as a subconscious shield against your boyfriendโs persistence.
โNo.โ You snap, pointing a finger at him accusingly. โStop looking at me like that.โ
Your chances of returning to your bed peacefully have vanished into thin air when Mingyu grabs a hold of your wrist and crosses them above your head. He dips down to nibble at your ear, deliberately filling your head with the sound of his drawn-out groans and haughty breathing.
You struggle to regain your strength under his grip for a few minutes before ultimately becoming limp in his hold, forfeiting all resistance.
"There you go," Mingyu croons.
"Let me take care of you. Have you all to myself for just a little longer, hm? Doesn't that sound good to you?"
His words crawl along your skin, piercing pins and needles all throughout your body. You squirm in his hold; your bottom lip pulled in between your teeth.
"I'll keep quiet if you can, baby. Y'gotta try not to wake everyone up."
โYou and I both know you canโt keep quiet to save your life, Mingyu.โ You hiss harmlessly and lean your head against the arm rest in defeat.
โI can try this time.โ He nearly whines, both his tough facade and grip on your wrists faltering in favor of reaching underneath your sleep shirt to trace his blunt nails over your stomach and chest. โPromise."
Your muscles loosen under his touch, emotionally sold on the idea of having such a needy man wrapped around your finger. He truly is the manifestation of a wet dream.
โFuck,โ you groan and take advantage of the disappearance of his grip to swap positions and straddle his hips. Your palms come up to rest at either side of his head.
With your straightened arms being within his reach, Mingyu proceeds to trail a lewd, wet stripe of his tongue on your inner wrist and arm, all the while keeping his gaze fixed with yours.
The shiver that comes with it is enough of an answer for Mingyu to reclaim his stake on your body, bracing himself on his elbows to crash his mouth into yours and lure you into him.
Your groans and whimpers are muted against his lips and you find yourself yearning for more; your friends' peace be damned.
You realize you're admittedly hypocritical when your goal at making Mingyu feel good is far more significant to you than their precious beauty sleep.
You tease him with a curved and intentional grind over his hips, grazing the hardened tent of his sweats. You take his choked-out whine as your green light to continue.
Leaning down, you delve into a passionate kiss that pries his lips apart. Another moan escapes you when you feel his tongue invading the heat of your mouth, twirling amongst yours feverishly.
Being the sly fox that he is, Mingyu takes it upon himself to grant himself access to your ass, cupping a cheek in each of his large hands and parting them beneath your shorts and panties.
One guttural moan later and you both come up for a breath of air, gasping into each other's slick mouths.
โYou really want to make a mess of yourself tonight, donโt you?โ You ask lowly.
Breathless, he nods his head and answers with a shaky, โYes. Please.โ
The corner of your mouth quirks in amusement. Heโs never been one to act coy in times like this, and hardly ever puts on a tough guy front for you when you ask him for anything pertaining to pleasure. After all, he's here for you, heโs mentioned it countless of times; whether it's shown in the form of free use or a simple switch in dynamic, heโs all for it as long as youโre content and comfortable.
Flickering your sight from his eyes to his hidden erection, your request is conveyed to Mingyu effortlessly, despite him having initiated all of this.
With a single nod of approval, Mingyu guides your hand towards the band of his sweats. He exhales through his nose as your tongue darts out to wet your lips between the fleeting gaze of his strained dick and his wrecked expression.
You apply an excessive amount of pressure against his untouched cock with the heel of your palm, causing him to squirm with a string of curses in tow.
"You really are so worked up for me, puppy. Just look at you..."
"Had you let me have a taste sooner, you wouldn't be in so much pain now, and I wouldn't be so fucking empty." You tut.
His features are screwed into a relieving mixture of delight and libido-driven anguish as you proceed to graze the damp splotch over his sweats, exchanging your palm for your nails to trace the outline of his twitching cock.
Mingyuโs adams apple bobs with a shallow swallow. When you settle back on your heels to ease his pants and boxers down, he does his best to accommodate you with the little sliver of space he has on the couch by tugging you closer to his chest.
"You started it." He huffs.
Your unamused and sarcastic laugh is muffled into his cheek as you place a wet kiss to his skin.
"Don't be a brat." You grumble in his ear.
Without warning, you take his leaking dick in your hand, squeezing the tip in place with a vice like grip while your opposite palm glides flat against the pre-coated head, circling over and over until he's stifling his moans into the cushion of the couch.
After a few minutes, you begin to thumb at the slit of his bulbous head before reaching down and cusping his balls in your hand, digging your nails into the skin with just enough pressure to make him writhe under you.
You keep your eyes fixed on his quivering chin as you lean over him with your jaw slack, allowing your spit to travel past your lips and drip onto his furiously red cock. Your tongue then shoots out to trace the vein splitting down the side of his length, simultaneously scraping your nails across the skin of his inner thigh and over his happy trail in a repetitive pattern.
It's after a particular forced dip of your fingers to his lower abdomen and the lick to his bobbing cock that he's desperately trying to close his thighs around your shoulders, with a garbled remark of, "I'm gonnaโ oh my godโshit! I'm..."
Your lips curl into a Cheshire-like grin as you cease all of your ministrations and sit up.
He nearly sobs when you pull away and it leaves you breathless and startled when he starts pawing at your chest and shoulders, jerking your body towards him. You brace yourself with your hands planted firmly against his chest.
โPlease, my love, please keep going.โ Tears clinging to his lashes, Mingyu stares down at you and awaits your response, impatiently guiding your hips in circular motions over his thighs.
You tsk and grab a fistful of his hair, making him sit up with you. His whines are breathy now, less consistent and terribly pitiful.
โYouโre making a lot of noise for someone who promised to keep their mouth shut.โ You chide while tugging at his strands tantalizingly rough.
He responds with a pathetic whimper and a shake of his head that he struggles to show under your unrelenting grip. His wet curls cling to his sweaty forehead, framing his doll-like face with the innocence of an unblemished cherub.
โYouโre going to take what I give you when I give it to you, do you understand?โ
His head bobbles with haste, eager to follow directions you know he wonโt be able to keep up with.
โShow me those pretty teeth, puppy.โ You instruct and pull at his bottom lip with two fingers as his tongue lolls out of his mouth.
You brush the pad of your thumb against the sharp peak of his canines, sighing contently afterwords. You change fingers to stroke his tongue, reaching deep under the slobbering muscle.
His moan is pitched high and you canโt help but grin as you watch his eyes roll back, hips rutting against nothing.
โWish you could see your pretty mouth, baby. Itโs so pretty and fitted just for me.โ
You nearly purr in pleasure when a low groan escapes him, and with his mouth fully open, it pulps the sound into a lewd cry.
โSuck.โ You demand and heโs quick to oblige, clamping his lips around your fingers, plunging them in deeper.
You tilt your head to appreciate the view of your fingers disappearing into his mouth with every suction of his hollowing cheeks, simply enthralled by your boyfriendโs beauty both inside and out. Heโs always so eager to please, and it fascinates you when he gets like this; so whiney, impatient, and drunk on loving you.
A weighted tap on your thigh piques your interest, your eyes following the feeling and discovering his bobbing cock still leaking, now nearly purple with his pent-up desire. To his disappointment, your fingers are removed from his mouth, trailing a web of spit in between the distance.
You wipe at his mouth with the back of your opposite hand, praising him for following through with his task and abiding by your rule of being patient.
His drooping eyes trail after your movements as you reposition yourself a bit lower on his thighs. Spreading the slickness of your fingers along his hard on, you continue to pump him at a decent pace.
โFuck. Fuck. Fuck.โ He curses, and you smile when you catch the tremble in his muscular arms that keep him upright out of the corner of your eye.
"C'mon, my pretty boy." You drawl. "You can let go now. Come for me."
His breathless gasp is the last thing you hear before he's crashing headfirst into his orgasm, bucking his hips into your hand through his high until you're sure he's milked himself dry.
You clamber off of him to rid yourself of your bottoms and panties before claiming your spot on his thighs again, watching intently as Mingyu's breath shallows out into a more controlled rhythm.
Sweat clings to him like a fresh sheen of body oil, coating him with a glow you find yourself all the more attracted to by the second. He seems to notice your drifting thoughts as he reaches out for you and pulls you in by the elbows.
Chest to chest, gazes glued to one another, your bodies slot together like the perfect puzzle when he guides you both to lay on your sides. You trail your fingers along his jaw, inching upward until you can thread them into his damp locks.
Mingyu presses a tender kiss to your forehead, then snakes a hand down to your exposed center, skimming your slick folds between his fingertips, paired with the intoxicating press of his thumb to your clit.
"You're so beautiful."
You suppress your moan with a bashful kiss to his lips, clasping your hands behind his neck as he continues to invade your drenched entrance with his finger.
"You're so perfect."
The warmth of his mouth explores the expanse of your throat, sucking and teething at the skin until a purplish hue blooms at the surface. A second finger is followed up with a third shortly after, sinking into your pussy while your muted moans begin to hitch and shorten with every pump.
"You're all mine." The words melt against your tongue as he slots your mouths together once more, stimulating every nerve in your body as you reach your high.
He swallows the whimper you let out once his fingers have vanished completely right after your release.
You're a hair's length short of having a mental crisis before the familiar flared tip of his cock nudges at your throbbing bud. Out of reflex, you meet him halfway and rut your puffy lips over his dick, pleading for more.
Mingyu anchors you with an arm under your head and another securing your waist when he senses your eagerness, hitching your leg over his hip as he presses in closer. With a few more moments of adjustment, Mingyu eventually guides his length into you inch by inch until he bottoms out with a content hum.
โYouโre my everything.โ Mingyu murmurs, soft enough to be considered a whisper, but with the perfect amount of vigor to enforce the adoration in his tone.
Your dopey grin spreads like wildflowers in the spring, blooming delicately across your lips in a cherry-like hue. Snaking a hand around his back, you utilize his shoulder as leverage as you rock your hips, desperately seeking friction from the girth inside you.
โYou donโt have to butter me up, Gyu. You already have me."
Your lips meet for a dominating dual between each thrust, coaxing the deepest sounds of ecstasy out from your chest and flooding his senses. His clipped, nasally whine adds fuel to your already blazing arson lining your insides.
โNotโฆโ he pants, quickening his pace. โButtering you up.โ
Clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle your cries, youโre made painfully aware of smoldering heat building in your lower stomach, sending a storm of pleasure to your stretched walls at an unmanageable rate.
โJustโfuckโmaking sureโฆโ Mingyu babbles on. โYouโyou know.โ
Your climax is fast approaching and your mewls and high-pitched moans have progressed. In a desperate attempt to relieve the burn in gummy walls, you hike your leg up higher onto his waist, sinking yourself even deeper onto his swelling member. Your mouth shadows over his shoulder, heaving raggedly as the pressure erupts into a show of fireworks behind your screwed eyes.
Attuned with your body, Mingyu coaxes you through your tipping point, offering his shoulder to you as a mock gag. Lapping your tongue across the skin, your teeth tail behind before indenting into his muscle to hide your final drawn-out whine.
You're unsure how long your release takes to finally dwindle out, but by the time you come to, you're able to acknowledge the warmth spilling out of your cunt.
And based off of the strained breaths against your forehead, you can only assume the fluids leaking out of you partially belong to your lover. Resting his head against the arm rest of the couch, Mingyu lays flat on his back and gently lays you on his chest.
He sighs, content and satiated. "I love you so much."
The weight of his softening cock remains inside you, bathing you in a refreshing sense of comfort and intimacy with the person you love most. With the side of your flushed face stamped against his sweaty chest, right above his heart, your response is a warm hum of acknowledgment.
"I love you." You mumble tiredly.
Regathering your thoughts, you make an attempt of forming some kind of meaningful and corny expression. However, to your surprise, the chance is swept out from underneath your feet when you feel yourself being lifted.
Mingyu's joints complain against the sudden movement, but he moves either way, wobbling his way to your bedroom and laying you down gently against the pillows. He smooths a hand over the crown of your head before walking back out to the living room.
You're far too bone weary to fret over his absence when he returns with the discarded clothing in one hand while the other holds a few damp paper towels. Shutting the door behind himself, Mingyu ambles over to your side and initiates his routine aftercare, peppering you with doting praises and gentle sweet nothings as he works his way around your body, cleaning you up.
Your vision is darkening at the edges shortly after he joins you in bed, cushioning himself against your back and placing a kiss to your bare shoulder.
The imperceptible rumble of a snore escapes his chest, and his fresh linen and woodsy scent fills your senses, lulling you to sleep before you can register it.
Within your dream, you meet him again. And when you meet, he's nothing shy of the man you wish to love for eternity.
He's the embodiment of what the word home has to offer.
Yena isn't as bubbly as she normally is. Which is deeply concerning considering the fact that this trip had been catered for her and Seungcheol's engagement.
Seungcheol has also indirectly insulted your boyfriend when he didn't immediately greet him this morningโwhich is highly unusualโand leaving you with a sour Mingyu to tend to.
Chan and Nari had chalked it up to a hypothetical 'trouble in paradise' type of situation, which settles your nerves for a bit.
Except, the truthful reasoning is soon revealed over breakfast when the pair insinuates that their paradise is still as perfect as ever, but there is something they've avoided discussing.
"Care to share with the class?" Chan quips eyeing Seungcheol from the seat adjacent to yours at the table.
Yena and Seungcheol share an unreadable glance, shifty eyes equally against the idea of being the one to break the news.
Seungcheol falls victim to his fiancรฉ's charm and accepts his volun-told task. clearing his throat after taking his final spoonful of his omelet.
"We didn't know we were rooming with two exhibitionists... at least, not until last night when we woke up to a certain couple getting frisky in the living roomโ as if they don't have their own private room."
Mingyu's lungs collapse, the air completely knocked out of him. You have to pat him on the back to prevent him from choking on his maple links.
"What?" Nari squawks, attention split between you and a very tomato-skinned Seungcheol.
"We fucked on the couch last night." You admit bluntly, chewing slower.
"Oh wow."
"Yeah."
Yena leans over the edge of her seat to peer past Seungcheol's shoulder, acknowledging your blank stare with a smug wink; a silent and slightly envious nod of approval. Mingyu fidgets in his seat, taking a sudden interest in the placemat under his plate and busying himself with a stray thread.
"Well, we didn't hear anything." Chan shrugs.
"How could you not? They were going at it like two sick, rabid animals!" Seungcheol stammers, ears hot under your unfazed nods and hums.
"To be fair, we were also pretty busy ourselves." Nari casually adds, following up with a sip of her coffee.
This time, all three men are coughing into their hands and shirts as they advert their stares from one another. Chan has appointed himself as the mediator, desperately redirecting the conversation.
You turn to Nari when she nudges you with her elbow in the midst of the group's recuperating conversation, crooking her fingers to signal you closer. You lean in and she whispers into your ear.
"Hope you guys didn't catch too much of our midnight rendezvous, Chan wanted to try something new."
You arch a brow, intrigued by her bold divulgence. She smirks and leans over once more.
"He had me call him daddy the entire night. What a freak, huh?"
Your laugh is unfiltered and loud, and you double over with the force of it. Mingyu steadies you with a hand on your waist, running a fond eye over your radiant expression.
"Must have been something in the air then, huh?"
Your banter dials down after everyone has cleared their plates and begun planning their last itinerary. You stay behind in favor of romanticizing your boyfriend's mundane chore of washing the dishes, buzzing around from one counter to the other as he tidies up the kitchen.
After finishing, Mingyu plants himself in between your knees, his full height towering over your seated form. Your hands find home on his hips as he thumbs over your chin and jaw fondly.
"Well, breakfast was a little embarrassing." He says with a coy shake of his head.
You perch your chin on his stomach and look up through your lashes, the quirked corner of your mouth appearing alongside your raised brows.
"I'm pretty sure I warned you about you being incapable of keeping quiet."
"I was quiet!" He argues, pursing his lips afterwords. "I think."
You giggle at his dubious remark which he muffles with a peck to the edge of your mouth. When he pulls back, his eyes are glimmering, forever alluring regardless of how much time in your relationship you've spent losing yourself in.
"What were you and Nari laughing about earlier?"
"Ah," You grin. "It was just about her and Chan's night."
Your hands relocate to the back of his knees when he shuffles closer in between your thighs and hunches over to bump your forehead with his.
"But what did she say? What was so funny?" He pouts.
"You're so nosey."
He makes a sound in the back of his throat as he nudges his nose against yours, pushing you to indulge in his curiosity a little more.
"Chan wanted her to call him daddy."
Mingyu recoils abruptly, distancing himself from you for a moment to gauge your sincerity, snorting when he realizes you're, in fact, not joking.
"You learn something new every day, I guess." He smirks.
You offer him a nod before craning your neck to kiss him, unrushed and sweet. Your fingers have since moved to dance across his broad shoulders, skirting past his ribs and spine as you stare up at him. His own hands have come to rest on either side of you in your seat.
Pulling back slightly, Mingyu levels you with an inquisitive expression that makes you shift in your seat slightly.
โYou're staring, Gyu.โ
โDid youโฆ Do you likeโฆโ he takes a deep breath and restarts. โAre you into the Daddy thing?โ
Somehow, you've managed to choke on your saliva, sending you into a fit of coughs and wheezes as you try to get your bearings.
โIt was just a question, calm down babe!โ He chides, stroking the back of your head once youโve calmed yourself down and taken a sip of your water.
โBaby,โ you take his hand in yours. โIโm not into that. I donโt think Iโll ever be into that, honestly."
"Unless.. I donโt know.. you decide you want to try it out? Then I guess Iโd consider it."
Mingyuโs face morphs from concern, to understanding, and finally to amusement as he brings your hand to his mouth, peppering your knuckles with kisses.
He chuckles. "Lucky for you, I'm also not a fan, so that makes it easy."
You smile and take another moment to enjoy his admirable character, his openness. His high value and regard for you and your needs. You've truly hit the jackpot with him and couldn't possibly exist without his supportive partnership in your life.
Your gaze blurs as he straightens out, takes a step back and crosses his ankles as he leans against the table, flattening his palm against the polished wood. He tilts his head.
โAlthoughโฆโ He drawls. โI wouldnโt be opposed to being called something else."
You swallow your response and motion for him to elaborate, chewing at the inside of your cheek.
โHow do you feel about calling meโฆ your husband?โ
You swear the blood in your body stops pumping, the air escaping your lungs not long after, and your ears ring at an intolerable decibel. Youโre transfixed on your boyfriend whose eyes have glossed over, unblinking throughout the period of suffocating silence.
โMyโฆ what?โ You utter breathlessly.
Mingyu shuffles closer to look you in the eye properly, his own twinkling brightly; an otherworldly sight even the constellations in the night sky couldn't hold a candle to.
"Your husband," He proceeds to reiterate. "You know, once we're married."
Your blinks slow after that, stunned.
"I mean, yeah, I don'tโฆ I wouldn'tโฆ mind, I suppose." You stammer, fighting the urge to both shriek until your throat is raw, and burrow yourself underground to avoid making a fool of yourself before he's even had the chance to propose.
"Good." Is all he says before pivoting on his heel and meandering down the hall, as if he hadn't just flipped your universe upside down, shaking your surroundings until all of your thoughts, feelings, and strength are clattering to the ground, exposed for him to see. Only for him. It's always been for him.
On the outside, Mingyu is no different behind his seemingly unaffected aura.
However, his inner dialogue is a sequence of muddled pleads for a sliver of grace against the eternal adoration he has for you, a love that strikes fires in his ribcage he struggles to put out.
Though, truthfully, he'd let them burn. He'd let his heart char to a degree that reveals nothing but ashes that mirror your smell; Of your distinct undertones of home, refreshing laughter, and a blinding smile.
He's a mess, inside and out, but he doesn't mind it one bit. Not when he cherishes the silver lining; you were okay with being his wife. You were more than okay with it, really.
Should he be a little surprised? Maybe. It's been four years coming and all he's done is confess his undying love for you day in and day out. And as you've mentioned before, it does get a little tiresome after the umpteenth time in one sitting of having to reassure him that you'd still love him if he was a worm.
But who cares?
Not him.
Not when he reflects on your journey together; a voyage he has yet to hear you rant about in all of the romance novels you spew to him about.
Because your love is special. It's one of a kind. A story not even the most wise and literate author could produce into words on a paper.
And when he thinks about the velvet box sitting at the bottom of his luggage, buried under his clothes, he knows it's only a matter of days until he can confidently claim this love as both yours and hisโfor the rest of your shared forever.
< envy yaps: well that was sappy. I feel like I have to balance it out now with an evil plot line now... and what if Wonwoo is my next target... hm... much to consider.
Content Warnings/Tags: explict smut (mature audiences only/mdni!), strong language, sexual tension, suggestive themes, mutual attraction/ pining, bodyguard x cilent dynamic, celebrity lifestyle, glasses!jeno, mentions of past manipulative relationships, cat allergy, Jeno smokes and vapes (reader doesn't like it), social media/public attention, sexual fantasies, rimming, masturbation (both male and female), dubcon, kissing, unprotected sex (be safe irl!), spanking, hair pulling, breeding kink, daddy kink, reader innocence kink, overstimulation, squirting, I think that's it.
Author's Note: If you're here for bodyguard!Jeno, forced proximity, quiet domestic moments, and an unhealthy amount of yearning... welcome!! I hope this fic is your cup of tea. As always, this is purely a work of fictionโplease read responsibly! ๐ค
Summary: You've spent your entire life surrounded by cameras, fans, and people who wanted something from you. Lee Jeno is different. He's there to protect youโnot use you. Somewhere between shared mornings, quiet evenings, and a home that begins to feel less lonely, the line between client and bodyguard starts to disappear.
The transition from your chaotic professional life to the sanctuary of your penthouse had always been your favorite part of the day. As a supermodel and actress with over 45 million eyes watching your every move on Instagram, the pressure to be the perfect, sensual icon was immense. But inside these walls, you were just youโsweet, a bit clumsy, and deeply affectionate.
And for the past few weeks, you hadn't been alone in that sanctuary.
Lee Jeno was a constant, silent presence. Your father, a man whose influence stretched far beyond the legitimate business world into the dark underbelly of the mafia, had insisted on 24/7 protection. He had seen how your innocence had been weaponized against you by predatory actors and models in the past; he had cleaned up those messes with a brutality that would terrify the public, but for you, it was just Dad being protective.
Jeno was the gold standard of protection. A former military man with over six years of service, he carried himself with a disciplined rigidity that made your heart flutter. He was towering, with broad shoulders that seemed to fill every doorway and a muscular build that strained against the fabric of his professional attire. His hair was a pitch-black void, and his jawline was so sharp it looked like it could cut glass. Occasionally, he wore glasses that gave him a scholarly look, though the intensity in his eyes remained lethal.
"Miss Y/N, your schedule for tomorrow is confirmed. Your manager will be here at 8:00 AM," Jeno said, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that vibrated in your chest.
You looked up at him, leaning against the kitchen island. You had already changed into your favorite cherry-red silk robe. It was shortโdangerously soโbarely skimming the tops of your thighs. Because you were in the privacy of your own home, you had opted for total comfort, leaving your bra and panties off. The silk felt cool against your skin, though the friction of the fabric against your nipples was starting to make them peak.
"I told you, Jeno, please just call me Y/N," you murmured, giving him a sweet, genuine smile. "We're going to be spending every waking hour together. 'Miss Y/N' makes me feel like I'm in a boardroom."
Jenoโs gaze flickered down to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to your eyes. He cleared his throat, his posture remaining stiff. "I will try, Y/N."
The way your name sounded in his low voice made a sudden, sharp heat bloom between your thighs. You shifted your weight, the robe sliding slightly open to reveal a glimpse of your toned leg. You weren't trying to be provocativeโyou were genuinely just relaxedโbut you noticed the way Jenoโs throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
You found yourself wondering, not for the first time, what lay beneath those professional trousers. You imagined the sheer bulk of him, wondering if he was as packed downstairs as he was in the shoulders. The thought hit you with such intensity that you felt a wave of guilt. How could I think that about my bodyguard? you scolded yourself, though the curiosity remained, a persistent itch you couldn't scratch.
As the days passed, you noticed a pattern. Whenever Pearl, your beautiful blue-eyed ragdoll cat, leaped onto your lap or brushed against Jenoโs legs, he would suddenly freeze. His eyes would grow watery, and a series of muffled sneezes would escape him.
"Oh no," you whispered, scooping Pearl up into your arms and hugging her to your chest, which only served to push your large breasts together. "You're allergic to her, aren't you?"
Jeno rubbed his nose, looking slightly embarrassed. "It is a minor inconvenience, Y/N. Please, do not change your routine on my account."
"I can't let you suffer," you insisted, your caring nature taking over. From that day on, you made sure Pearl was in a different room whenever Jeno was nearby. It was a small gesture, but you saw the way he looked at youโwith a mixture of gratitude and a hunger he was desperately trying to suppress.
One rainy afternoon, the sexual frustration you had been ignoring for weeks reached a breaking point. You were lounging on your oversized velvet sofa, the red robe draped loosely over your curves. You were scrolling through your phone, but your mind wasn't on the comments of your latest post. Instead, you were thinking about Jeno. You wondered if he had a wife, or a girlfriendโsomeone who got to feel the weight of him, someone who got to taste him.
The thought triggered an oral fixation you'd been struggling with; you found yourself chewing on your lower lip, imagining the taste of him, the scent of his skin and expensive cologne.
Unable to help yourself, you shifted on the sofa, sliding a plush pillow beneath your hips. You began to rub yourself against the fabric, a soft moan escaping your lips as you arched your back, the robe riding up to expose your bare, rounded ass to the air. You were lost in the sensation, your eyes closed, imagining it was Jenoโs hard thigh instead of a pillow.
"Y/N?"
Your eyes snapped open. Jeno was standing at the entrance of the living room, holding a tray of tea. His eyes were wide, fixed directly on the sight of youโflushed, breathless, and grinding your hips into the cushion with your legs spread wide. The red silk of your robe had fallen open, leaving nothing to the imagination.
The silence in the room was suffocating. You froze, your heart hammering against your ribs, your pussy still throbbing from the friction.
Jeno didn't move. His gaze traveled slowly from your face, down to the swell of your breasts, and finally to the wetness glistening between your thighs. You could see the visible strain in his jaw, the way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the tray.
"I... I'm sorry," he rasped, his voice sounding an octave lower than usual. "I didn't realize you were... occupied."
He turned and walked away quickly, but not before you caught a glimpse of the prominent bulge stretching the fabric of his slacks. He was hard. He was incredibly hard just from looking at you.
Later that night, while you were asleep, Jeno sat in the security room, the blue light of the monitors illuminating his face. He opened Instagram and searched for your profile. He scrolled to your most recent postโa bikini shoot that had gone viral. You were wearing strings of gold fabric that barely covered your nipples and the curve of your hips.
He scrolled through the comments.
โI would do anything to be inside her.โ
โGod, those tits are perfect, I want to drown in them.โ
โLook at that ass, sheโs a literal goddess.โ
Jeno let out a low, guttural curse, his hand sliding down to his trousers. He closed his eyes and imagined the reality instead of the photo. He imagined you not as the global icon, but as the sweet girl who cared about his allergies. He fantasized about pulling that red robe off your shoulders, pinning your wrists above your head, and burying his face in your breasts until he couldn't breathe. He imagined your thick thighs bracketing his face, the scent of your arousal filling his lungs as he licked every inch of you.
He almost let himself go, his fingers tightening around his length, but he stopped abruptly, breathing heavily.
"Fuck," he whispered into the empty room. "She's my client."
But as he looked back at the screen, at the innocent expression on your face contrasted with the sheer sexiness of your body, he knew his professional boundaries were beginning to crumble.
The following few days in the penthouse were a blur of comfortable domesticity and a tension so thick it felt like a physical weight in the air. You had a rare day off, a precious gap in your grueling schedule of shoots and press tours, and you decided to spend it doing something you actually enjoyed: cooking.
You weren't exactly a professional chefโin fact, you were a disaster in the kitchenโbut you loved the process. By the time you finished preparing a simple pasta with a creamy garlic sauce and a side of roasted vegetables, the kitchen looked like a war zone. Flour was dusted across the marble countertops, a splash of tomato sauce decorated the backsplash, and you had a smudge of cream on your cheek.
"Jeno! Lunch is ready!" you called out, beaming as you plated the food.
Jeno entered the kitchen, his eyes immediately scanning the chaos of the room before landing on you. You looked small and endearing, wearing an oversized white t-shirt that hung off one shoulder and a pair of tiny lounge shorts that barely covered the swell of your cheeks. He looked at the mess, then at your hopeful, sparkling eyes, and his expression softened.
"You've been busy, Y/N," he remarked, his voice a low rumble.
"I tried my best!" you giggled, sliding a plate toward him.
He ate every single bite. Even though the meal was basic, the fact that you had put so much effort into itโand the sight of you humming happily while you cleaned up the messโmade it the best meal heโd had in years. As he watched you reach up to put a pot away, the hem of your shirt riding up to reveal the smooth, pale skin of your lower back, Jeno had to look away, his jaw tightening.
Later that afternoon, the restlessness hit you. You felt a surge of energy, the kind that usually resulted in a viral post. You retreated to one of the spacious guest rooms that you used as a makeshift studio, turning on a heavy, bass-driven track that made the floor vibrate.
You set up your phone on a tripod and began to move. You weren't thinking about the millions of people who would eventually see it; you were just feeling the music. You rolled your hips in slow, sensual circles, your body undulating with a natural grace. As the beat dropped, you turned around, bending your knees slightly and throwing your ass back with a rhythmic, provocative snap. You ground your hips into the air, imagining the friction, your hair whipping around your face as you let yourself go, completely carefree and lost in the rhythm.
You didn't notice the door crack open. You didn't see Jeno standing there, frozen, his breath hitching in his throat. He watched for only a few secondsโthe sight of your plump ass shaking and throwing back toward him was almost too much to bear. He vanished before you could turn around, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped animal.
An hour later, the reel was live.
You had retreated to your master suite, slipping into a steaming hot bath to relax. While you were soaking in the bubbles, smelling of vanilla and almond body wash, Jeno was on the living room couch, staring at his phone.
The video had already exploded. 500k likes and 2 million views in sixty minutes. He watched it on a loop, the high-definition quality capturing every jiggle of your cheeks, every roll of your hips. He felt his cock surge, straining violently against the fabric of his trousers. He shifted uncomfortably, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
He scrolled down to the comments, and his blood began to boil.
โI would pay a million dollars just to see that ass move in person.โ
โGod, imagine getting that thickness behind you. Iโd be a lucky man.โ
โI want to bury my face in that. I bet she tastes like heaven. Iโd eat that ass for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.โ
โAnal on a goddess like her? Iโd ruin her.โ
Jeno let out a sharp, hissed breath. "Fuck," he whispered, his voice raw. "Those filthy pieces of shit."
But as he looked back at the video, the anger morphed into a dark, consuming hunger. He closed his eyes, and a vivid fantasy took hold. He imagined you giving him a private show, just for him. He imagined the music playing in the penthouse, and as you threw your ass back, he wouldn't be standing at a distance. He would be right there.
In his mind, he reached out, his large hands gripping your waist with a bruising force, pulling you back against his hard chest. He imagined bending you over the edge of the sofa, forcing your ass high into the air. He could almost feel the heat radiating from your skin. He imagined parting your cheeks with his fingers, exposing the tight, pink ring of your asshole.
He fantasized about burying his face in you, his tongue lashing out to lick your ring, sucking your asshole deep into his mouth with a hungry, desperate vacuum. He imagined tongue-fucking you, swirling his tongue inside you while his other hand reached around to find your clit, rubbing it relentlessly until you were screaming his name.
His hand drifted down, resting heavily on the massive bulge in his pants. He didn't touch himselfโhis discipline was a wallโbut he squeezed the fabric, imagining it was your soft, yielding flesh.
"God, Y/N... you have no idea what I want to do to you," he groaned, his eyes clouded with lust.
"Jeno?"
The voice snapped him back to reality. He jumped slightly, his eyes flying open to see you standing beside him. You had just stepped out of the bath; your skin was glowing and damp, and your long hair was wet, clinging to the curves of your shoulders. You were wearing a thin, white silk slip that left nothing to the imagination, the fabric clinging to your large breasts and the curve of your hips. You smelled like fresh shampoo and warm skin, a scent that hit him like a physical blow.
You had reached out and tapped his shoulder, your expression sweet and curious. As you looked down, your eyes landed on his phone screen. The video was still playingโthe exact moment where you were grinding your hips and throwing your ass back.
You paused, noticing the video, and then you noticed the way Jeno was breathingโheavy, raggedโand the unmistakable, towering tent in his trousers.
You didn't say anything. You didn't tease him or ask why he was watching. Instead, a small, shy flush crept up your neck, and you felt a sudden, sharp throb of wetness between your legs. The sight of him so affected by you, so visibly hard, sent a jolt of electricity through your core.
Jeno stood up abruptly, his face a mask of professional neutrality, though his eyes were still dark with lingering desire.
"I'll be checking the perimeter, Y/N," he said, his voice sounding strained and gravelly.
He turned and walked away, his stride stiff. As soon as he was out of your sight, he leaned against the wall of the hallway and closed his eyes, letting out a long, shaky exhale.
"Fuck me," he muttered to himself, his mind still filled with the image of your wet hair and the memory of your ass shaking on his screen. He was a professional, but as he felt his cock pulse painfully against his zipper, he knew he was losing the war against his own desire.
It was five weeks in when you really tested him.
You'd just come back from a shootโexhausted, makeup still on, hair pinned up in a messy bun. You'd stripped off your designer clothes in the bathroom and emerged in a short silk robe, cherry red, tied loosely at the waist. The V-neck plunged to your navel, and the hem barely covered your ass.
Jeno was in the living room, reviewing security footage on his tablet. He looked up when you entered.
"Jeno." You flopped onto the couch beside him, close enough that your thigh brushed his. "I'm so tired. My feet hurt. You should massage them."
His hand stilled on the tablet. "I don't think that's part of my job description."
"Your job is to keep me safe and happy, right?" You batted your lashes. "I'm not happy when my feet hurt."
"You need rest, Y/N." His voice was strained. "And perhaps more appropriate attire."
You looked down at yourself, genuinely confused. "What's wrong with this? It's just a robe, Jeno."
"You're practically naked."
"It's comfortable." You stretched, arching your back, the robe pulling tight across your breasts. "Don't be such a prude. We're friends now, right? Friends can be comfortable around each other, Jeno."
He didn't answer. But you caught him staring at the curve of your thigh before he looked away.
That night, he took an extra-long cold shower.
The tension shifted one afternoon when you stepped out onto the balcony to get some fresh air. You found Jeno standing there, his back to you, a thin cloud of vapor escaping his lips. In his hand was a vape, and on the railing sat a pack of cigarettes.
You didn't scream or get angry. You simply stood there, looking at him with a soft, disappointed pout.
"Jeno?"
He jumped, nearly dropping the device, and quickly hid it behind his back, his expression returning to its stoic mask. "Miss Y/N. I apologize. I'll dispose of it immediately."
You walked closer, the scent of mint and tobacco clinging to him. You reached out, gently touching his forearm. "You don't have to hide it. I just... I don't really like guys who smoke or vape, Jeno. It ruins your health."
He looked down at you, surprised by the lack of judgment in your voice.
"I'm not telling you what to do," you continued softly, your eyes wide and innocent. "But it makes me a little sad. There are so many other ways to relieve stress, you know? Healthier ways. Ways that actually burn calories and make you feel... good."
You gave him a shy, fluttering look, implying something you didn't have the words to say directly, but the suggestion hung heavy in the air. You leaned in a bit closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. "And... I've read that smoking can cause fertility problems. It's not very good for... um... a man's performance either."
Jeno felt a surge of heat rush to his groin. The idea of his "performance" being discussed by a woman as pure and breathtaking as you sent his mind spiraling. He imagined his cum filling you, the thought of breeding you becoming an obsession that outweighed any nicotine craving.
That afternoon, while you were cleaning the living room, you tripped over a rugโa classic Y/N move. You tumbled forward, landing face-first on the plush carpet, your legs splayed wide and your robe sliding open to reveal your soaking wet pussy, completely exposed to Jeno's line of sight.
"Oh! I'm so clumsy!" you giggled, looking back at him from the floor, your ass hiked up in the air.
Jeno didn't move. He stared at the pink, plump folds of your center, the sight of your innocence paired with such a provocative body driving him to the edge. He reached into his pocket, feeling the vape, and suddenly felt a wave of disgust. He didn't want chemicals in his system. He wanted to be clean. He wanted to be the strongest, most potent version of himself for when he finally broke.
The accident happened on a Saturday.
You'd been cookingโbadly. Flour was everywhere, a pan was smoking, and you were laughing so hard you could barely breathe. Jeno had rushed in when the smoke alarm went off, found you covered in white dust, spatula in hand, looking like a disaster.
"What are you doing?" he asked, exasperated.
"Making pancakes, Jeno. Obviously."
"Pancakes don't require the smoke alarm."
You shrugged, grinning. "I'm a model, not a chef."
He sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and took over. You watched himโthe way his forearms flexed, the way he moved with practiced efficiency. His glasses had slipped down his nose, and he pushed them up with the back of his hand.
"You're good at that," you said, leaning against the counter.
"I'm good at a lot of things."
It was the first time he'd said anything remotely suggestive. You blinked, surprised, and a flush crept up his neck.
"I meanโ" he started.
"Jeno." You stepped closer, suddenly aware of how close you were. "What kind of things?"
He turned off the stove. Set down the spatula. Turned to face you, and for a moment, his mask slipped. You saw hunger in his dark eyes, raw and barely contained.
"You should go change," he said quietly. "You have flour on your chest."
You looked down. The flour was dusted over the thin tank top you woreโno bra underneath, the fabric clinging to your curves. Your nipples were visible through the white powder.
"Oh." You laughed, light and careless. "I'll clean up later. You didn't answer my question, Jeno."
"Y/N."
"What are you good at?"
He stepped forward. Close enough that you could smell his cologneโwoodsy, clean, masculine. His hand came up, and before you could react, he brushed a thumb across your collarbone, wiping away a smudge of flour.
The touch was electric.
"Jeno?" Your voice came out smaller than intended.
His eyes dropped to your lips. Held there. Then he stepped back, hand falling to his side.
"Go change," he repeated, his voice rough. "I'll finish breakfast."
You left the kitchen in a daze, your heart pounding for reasons you couldn't name.
The night it finally happened was unremarkable in every way except for the weight of everything that came before.
You'd come home late from a charity gala, wearing a red dress that hugged every curve like a second skin. Your heels were killing you, your hair was falling from its updo, and you were pleasantly tipsy from champagne. Jeno had been at your side all nightโclose, watchful, professional. But you'd caught him staring at you when you danced with the event's host. You'd seen the muscle jump in his jaw when some CEO's hand slipped too low on your waist.
Now he was trailing you into your bedroom, a shadow in the dim light.
"Jeno, you can go," you said, fumbling with your earrings. "I'm safe now, Jeno. Home sweet home."
"I'll do a sweep of the apartment first."
"You're so diligent, Jeno." You turned to face him, wobbling slightly on your heels. "What would I do without you?"
"Hopefully never find out."
You laughed, but it died in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you. His glasses were offโhe'd taken them off at some point, and without them, his eyes were darker, more intense. The sharp lines of his face seemed sharper. Hungrier.
"Jeno?" You took a step back. Your knees hit the edge of the bed. "Is everything okay?"
"No." His voice was low, almost a growl. "Everything is not okay, Y/N. Everything has not been okay since the day I walked into this apartment."
"What do you mean?"
"You walk around in silk that shows everything. You say my name like it's a prayer. You lean into me, touch me, breathe on me, and you act like you have no idea what you're doing."
"Iโ" Your mouth went dry. "I don'tโ"
"Don't lie to me." He stepped forward, closing the distance between you. "Don't stand there in that dress, looking like a fucking goddess, and tell me you don't know what you've been doing to. me."
"I wasn'tโ" But even as you said it, you remembered. The short robes. The suggestive jokes. The way you'd called for him constantly, demanded his attention, parade around half-naked without a second thought.
"God, you're so naive," he said, but there was no cruelty in it. Only frustration. Only want. "Men have been using you your whole life, haven't they? Taking what they wanted and leaving you confused. And here I am, trying to be the one man who doesn'tโwho won'tโ"
"Why won't you?"
The question hung between you.
"Because if I start," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "I won't stop. I'll ruin you. I'll fill every hole you have until you can't remember your own name. I'll break every boundary you have, and you'll beg me for more."
Your breath caught. Heat flooded your body, pooling between your legs.
"Jenoโ"
"Say my name one more time," he said, stepping forward until his chest brushed yours. "Say it like you mean it."
Your lips parted. Your heart was a wild drum.
"Jeno."
That was all it took.
His mouth crashed onto yours.
It wasn't gentle. It was claimingโteeth and tongue and desperation. His hands found your waist, gripped the silk of your dress, and tore. The sound of fabric ripping sent a thrill through you, and you moaned into his mouth.
"Fuck," he breathed, pulling back just enough to look at you. Your dress was ruined, hanging open, revealing your breasts, your stomach, the lace of your panties. "You're so fucking beautiful."
"Jeno, pleaseโ"
He silenced you with another kiss, walking you backward until your legs hit the bed. You fell onto the mattress, and he followed, covering your body with his. His mouth traced down your neck, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. His hands found your breasts, palming them, pinching your nipples until you cried out.
"You like that?" He pulled back, watching your face. "You like your bodyguard touching you like this?"
"Yes, Jenoโyesโ"
He flipped you onto your stomach in one smooth motion, yanking your hips up. Your dress pooled around your waist, your ass bared to him, and you heard his sharp intake of breath.
"Look at you," he murmured. "All this time you've been teasing me with your robes, and now I finally get to see what's underneath."
He ran a hand over your ass, squeezing, spreading you open. His fingers found your cunt through the lace of your panties, already soaked.
"Fuck, Y/N. You're dripping."
"Please," you whimpered. "Please, Jeno, I needโ"
"I know what you need." He pulled your panties aside, exposing you completely. The cool air hit your wet folds, and you shivered. "You need to be filled. You need someone to fuck that innocent look right out of your eyes."
He didn't wait. He freed his cockโthick, heavy, the head glisteningโand ran it through your folds. The sensation made you gasp, pushing back against him.
"Beg for it," he said, his voice rough. "Beg me to fuck you."
"Please, Jenoโplease, DaddyโI need your cock so badโ"
He pushed in.
The stretch was exquisiteโa burn that bordered on pain before melting into pure pleasure. He filled you completely, his hips flush against your ass, and you felt so full.
"Fuck," he groaned, dropping his forehead to your back. "You're so tight. So goddamn tight. This pussy was made for me."
He started moving. Slow at first, deep and deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him. But soon the pace turned brutalโhis hips slamming into you, the bed rocking, the headboard hitting the wall with a rhythm that matched your screams.
His hand found your hair, yanking your head back. "Look at you," he growled. "Taking my cock like a good little slut. And you pretended to be so innocent."
"I'm sorry, DaddyโI'm sorryโ"
"You're not sorry." He slapped your ass hard, leaving a red handprint. "You love this. You love being my whore."
"I doโI love itโ"
He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you upright, his chest pressed to your back. This new angle drove him deeper, and you felt him hit that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes.
"Right there," you sobbed. "Don't stop, Jeno, pleaseโ"
His hand snaked around to your clit, rubbing in tight circles. The dual stimulation was too much. You felt the pressure building, your orgasm coiling tight.
"Come for me," he ordered, his voice right by your ear. "Come all over my cock. I want to feel you squeeze me."
"I'mโI'mโ"
"Come, baby. Now."
The world shattered. You screamed his name as your release crashed over you, your body convulsing, your pussy clenching around him in waves. And then you felt itโthe gush of liquid, hot and sudden, soaking his cock and your thighs.
"Fuck, yes," he groaned, fucking you through it. "Squirt for me. Let it all out."
You were trembling, oversensitive, but he didn't stop. He kept pounding into you, chasing his own release.
"I'm going to fill you up," he said, his voice strained. "Pump you full of my cum until you're dripping with it. Everyone's going to know you belong to me."
"Yes, Daddyโpleaseโbreed meโ"
His hips stuttered, and you felt the first hot pulse of his release. It was endlessโstream after stream, flooding your cunt, filling you so full that it leaked around his cock. He kept grinding, stirring his seed deeper, and you moaned at the feeling of being so completely claimed.
He stayed inside you for a long moment, both of you panting, sweaty, trembling.
"Don't move," he said finally, his voice hoarse. "I want to feel you like this for a while."
You obeyed, your body limp, his cock still buried inside you. You could feel him softening, but he didn't pull out.
"Jeno," you whispered, your voice muffled by the pillow.
"Mm?"
"I don't think I ever want you to leave."
He turned your face toward him, kissing you softlyโa stark contrast to the brutality of the past hour.
"Good," he said against your lips. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
And when he stirred inside you, already hardening again, you realized he meant it. This was only the beginning.
Pairing: mingyu x reader
Summary: After a painful four-year relationship, you aren't looking for love. Unfortunately for you, your best friend has other plans. Enter Kim Mingyuโthe architect with too many flowers, too much affection, and absolutely no intention of leaving.
Warning/s: -
Note: This is part of my you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love series!
Song: honeybee by olivia rodrigo
drop dead | stupid song | honeybee
SOMETHING NEW
You lay in bed while staring up at the ceiling. You were still hurting from your relationship. After all, four years was no joke. You were numb and you were sick and tired of everyone telling you that it'll pass.
There were only so many times someone could tell you that you'd be okay before those words lost its meaning. It had been three months since the breakup. Three months since you packed the last of his things into a box. Three months since you watched him walk away. You never asked him to stay. Three months was long enough for everyone around you to assume you'd moved on.
You haven't. Not really.
You were inconsolable before, but now, you were sort of a functioning citizen. You went to work, answered messages, laughed at the right moments, and even remembered to water your plants by the windowsill. But every now and then, usually when you were alone, you'd catch yourself wondering when your heart would stop hurting.
A knock on your door echoed through your apartment, making you slowly sit up. You doubted it was him, but you still kind of hoped it was. The person knocked again and with a heavy sigh, you got out of bed and answered the door. As soon as you unlocked it, Seungkwan was already inviting himself inside with a bunch of stuff (i.e., food, drinks, care kits you might need, etc.).
"You look alive," he announced, slipping off his shoes. "That's an improvement."
You blinked. You weren't expecting him. Heck, you weren't expecting anyone. "Well, hello to you, too."
"I'm serious." He glanced around the apartment before setting everything on the coffee table and dropping onto your couch. "You've officially spent enough time moping."
"I haven't been moping."
"You reorganized your bookshelf alphabetically and by color." Seungkwan nodded towards your bookshelf.
You sat next to him. "It was therapeutic."
"It was concerning."
You rolled your eyes, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at your lips. Seungkwan noticed immediately. "There she is," he pointed dramatically. "I knew my best friend was still in there."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
He fully turned to you. "So."
You narrowed your eyes. "No."
"I haven't even said anything!" Seungkwan whined.
"You've got that scheming look on your face. What are you plotting, Boo?" You eyed him suspiciously.
"Fine!" Seungkwan said exasperatedly. He leaned over the coffee table, grabbed a bag of chips, and opened it. He grabbed a piece and ate it while you stared at him, waiting for whatever scheme he had to say. "I want you to go on a blind date. I swear, I think I've hit the jackpot this time. So much so, you'll name your first born after me."
"Absolutely not." You shook your head.
"Aw, c'mon. Don't be like that!" Seungkwan huffed, eating another chip. "He's tall, ridiculously handsome, a great cook, he's such a giver! Give him a chance!"
"Seungkwan, please." You groaned. "I'm not ready. Besides, what if he's just likeโ"
"Don't compare him to Jeonghan, Y/N. They're different guys." Seungkwan said, leaning back and continued eating chips. "I'm a Jeonghan anti, but I guess he's not totally evil. He's just... built different."
"The answer is no."
-
"I want you to go on a blind date. I swear, I think I've hit the jackpot this time. So much so, you'll name your first born after me." Seungkwan smiled, repeating the same spiel to Mingyu.
Mingyu looked up in thought. "Okay, but what if our child is a girl? We can't name her 'Seungkwan'."
Seungkwan's eye twitched. The different answers he got gave him whiplash. "Then name her Boo Youmi."
"Boo Youmi?" Mingyu made a face. "Shouldn't it be 'Kim Youmi'? I'm the dad, not you."
Seungkwan pursed his lips, "Boo Youmi is a cute name. 'Kim Youmi' sounds incomplete. Name her 'Kim Boo Youmi'."
"Absolutely not." Mingyu shook his head.
"How about 'Kim Youmi Boo'?" Seungkwan asked.
"Kim Youmi is final, Kwannie."
"Ugh, we're getting sidetracked!" Seungkwan exclaimed. "So, go on this blind date with my best friend. She'sโ"
"Sure." Mingyu said with zero hesitation. Seungkwan was expecting Mingyu to whine. He didn't expect such a direct answer.
"...That's it? You're not going to make me beg?" Seungkwan eyed him suspiciously.
Mingyu shrugged. "Yeah, that's it. Unless..." Mingyu smirked. "...Unless begging is a kink of yours that you weirdly want me to fulfill. If so, I'm honored, Kwannie."
"Ew! Shut up, himbo!" Seungkwan said, causing Mingyu to laugh. Seungkwan gave Mingyu a dirty look. He tried to keep it that way, but it's been a while since he heard Mingyu laugh. Like you, Mingyu's heartbroken, too.
When Mingyu's laughter died down, he cleared his throat and looked at Seungkwan. "I think I'm ready to meet someone."
Seungkwan gave him a small smile. "Yeah?"
Mingyu nodded. "I mean, I don't think I'll ever be ready." He rubbed the back of his neck. "But I don't want one relationship deciding what the rest of my life looks like."
"You're SO gonna love me for this, Kim Mingyu."
-
Saturday arrived faster than either of you expected. You didn't know how Seungkwan was able to persuade you into going on this date with some rando, but here you were. You stood in front of your closet with your arms crossed, staring at the clothes hanging inside.
"...Seriously?" You sighed. "So many clothes, yet nothing to wear."
Nothing looked right. You pulled out a sweater, too casual. A dress, too much. A blouse, too boring. With a sigh, you tossed everything onto your bed until half your wardrobe was scattered across the comforter. Somewhere in the pile, your phone buzzed.
[kwannie ๐]: don't cancel.
You rolled your eyes.
[y/nie <3]: I'm genuinely thinking about it.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
[kwannie ๐]: no, you're not :p
-
Across town, Kim Mingyu was experiencing a crisis of his own. Three shirts were laid neatly across his bed. He held up the first one.
"...No."
The second.
"Ew, definitely not."
The third.
"...Maybe."
Unsure, he snapped a picture and sent it to Seungkwan.
[mingoo]: quick! blue or white???
The reply came within seconds.
[seungkwannie]: white.
Mingyu stared at the message.
[mingoo]: that's what I was thinking, too!
[seungkwannie]: asdfghjkl then why'd you ask?!
[mingoo]: for emotional support, ofc!
-
You settled on something simple. Cute enough to make an effort. Comfortable enough to leave in if the date went terribly. Standing in front of the mirror, you adjusted your sleeves before letting your hands fall to your sides. You looked... fine. Not amazing. Not terrible. Just fine. That would have to do.
-
Mingyu buttoned the last button of his shirt before taking a step back from the mirror. He frowned.
"...Maybe I should change."
Five minutes later... He was wearing the exact same shirt.
One spray of cologne. He paused. "...Too much?"
He sniffed his wrist. "...Maybe one more."
Another spray. A beat. "Okay, that's definitely too much."
-
You grabbed your bag, checked for your wallet, keys, and phone. Everything was there. Good.
You reached for the doorknob. Stopped. Exhaled. You could still text Seungkwan that you weren't coming. You could crawl back into bed. Pretend this never happened. Your phone buzzed again.
On his way to the restaurant, Mingyu slowed down when he spotted a small flower stall on the corner. He walked past it. Kept walking. Stopped. Turned around and walked back to the flower stall.
"Would flowers be weird?" He asked himself as looked at the wide array of flowers.
The elderly florist smiled knowingly. "First date?"
Mingyu scratched the back of his neck. "Is it that obvious?"
"A little." She laughed.
He left the stall with a small bouquet wrapped in brown paper. Halfway to where his car is parked, he looked down at the bouquet and turned back around.
The florist looked at him from across the stall. "You're not returning those, are you?"
"I... wasn't?"
The florist shook her head, "Keep them, and give it to your date. It's never too much to give flowers on a first date."
"Okay." Mingyu said, turning back to walk to his car. He turned to face the florist and walked backwards, "Thanks, wish me luck!"
-
You arrived first. Of course you did. Better to wait than make someone else wait. You sat near the window, fingers wrapped around a glass of water you hadn't touched, rehearsing all the ways this evening could go wrong.
-
Mingyu took a deep breath before entering the restaurant that Seungkwan ever-so-kindly booked for the two of you. Mingyu looked around and spotted you before you spotted him. Well, he's never seen you before, but his gut was telling him that it was you.
He approached the table with a small smile on his face while smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on his shirt. "Y/N?"
You looked up and nodded. "Mingyu?"
"Hi." Mingyu smiled.
"Hi."
A beat. Then, he awkwardly held up the bouquet he'd been hiding behind his back. "I, uh... these are for you."
You blinked.
"For me?"
"Unless Seungkwan set me up with someone else, then this could get awkward."
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. "No, I'm definitely Y/N."
"Good," he sighed dramatically before taking a seat in front of you. "That would've been embarrassing."
You accepted the flowers carefully, fingertips against the brown paper wrapped around the stems.
"They're beautiful."
"I'm glad you think so." He said, his shoulders visibly relaxing. His eyes sparkled and you almost forgot what it felt like to be on a first date. For the first time in months, you stopped wondering how long it would take for someone to leave.
-
Dinner was... easy. Much easier than you expected. Mingyu talked enough to fill the silence but never so much that you couldn't join in. He asked questions, actually listened to your answers, and somehow turned even the most ordinary stories into something worth laughing over.
By the time the waiter cleared your plates, you realized you hadn't checked the time once.
Seungkwan wasn't lying," Mingyu admitted, leaning back on his chair.
You tilted your head in wonder.
"He said you laugh with your whole face."
"...He said that?"
"Mhm."
You looked away, smiling despite yourself. "I'll have to yell at him later."
"He'll probably thank you."
The evening stretched naturally into a walk. The city had quieted by then, leaving only the occasional passing car and the glow of streetlights overhead. Mingyu matched your pace without thinking.
"So..." he glanced over. "How bad do I rank on the blind date scale?"
You pretended to consider it. "Hm."
He gasped. "The hesitation already tells me everything."
"I was going to say you're somewhere in the top two."
"...Out of?"
"Two."
He laughed so loudly that a couple walking past turned to look. Worth it.
A cool breeze drifted between the buildings. Without thinking, you rubbed your hands together. Mingyu noticed immediately. "Here."
Before you could protest, he slipped his jacket over your shoulders.
"Keep it." He smiled while he adjusted his jacket on you. Your eyes widened in shock, "What?"
He gave you a small smirk, "I'll get it the next time I see you."
A memory surfaced before you could stop it.
"I'm freezing." You shivered. Your teeth chattering so hard, you were scared that it would fall off.
Jeonghan glanced at you briefly before stuffing his hands deepers into his own pockets. "You should've brought a jacket. You didn't even wear gloves, Y/N. You knew it'd be cold outside tonight."
The memory disappeared as quickly as it came. You looked down at Mingyu's jacket around your shoulders.
"...Thank you."
"No problem." He smiled.
By the time your apartment building came into view, neither of you seemed particularly eager for the night to end.
"Thanks for driving me home," you said.
"I was going this way anyway."
You raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you parked in the opposite direction?"
"I didn't know you paid close attention to me, Y/N." Mingyu teased.
You laughed.
"There it is again."
"What?"
"That laugh."
Heat crept up your neck. "Oh."
"I like it."
For a second, you forgot how to respond. Then your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you back to reality. You glanced at the dark screen before looking up again.
"...I should head inside."
"Right."
He took a good look at you and smiled. "Goodnight, Y/N. It was a pleasure being your date tonight."
"Likewise. Goodnight, Mingyu." You got out of his car, and watched him turn the corner before unlocking your apartment.
Your flowers found a home in the only vase you owned. Mingyu's jacket still carried a faint trace of his cologne. You caught yourself smiling. Then, another uninvited memory.
It was all over the internet. 'Just because' flowers are now making rounds on social media. You weren't fond of flowers yourself, but seeing all those people receiving flowers made you happy for them. You wondered if Jeonghan would buy you 'just because' flowers. After all, you've been together for so long. Surely, he'd thought of that, right?
"Hannie?"
"Hm?"
"Would you ever buy me flowers?" You asked.
He looked at you with knitted brows, "What's the occasion?"
"Nothing." You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "It's just a question. Would you ever buy me flowers even if there's no occasion?"
Maybe it was your fault for being hopeful because your heart sank when he laughed at your face.
"Baby, they're going to die in a week or less. It's not practical." Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head.
"But Seungkwan buys me flowers sometimes. He even bought me a small bouquet for Valentine's Day." You said.
"Then go date Seungkwan." Jeonghan said. His tone was light, but you knew it was off. You stared into each other's eyes and you knew it was time to drop the subject. You gave him a tight-lipped smile, "You're right. It'll just die. Waste of money, am I right?"
Jeonghan's eyes lit up. "See? I knew you'd understand. You're so smart, baby. Anyway, what's for dinner?"
You looked up at the bouquet sitting on your kitchen counter. Maybe the flowers would die less than a week, but they were beautiful and goddammit, you deserved it, anyway.
Your phone buzzed.
[Mingyu]: Hi!
You smiled.
[Y/N]: Hi
Three dots appeared almost immediately. Disappeared. Appeared again. Finallyโ
[Mingyu]: I'll just shoot my shot here ๐ Can I see you again?
You stared at the message longer than you'd like to admit. Your fingers hovered above the keyboard. Maybe this was the part where you should slow down. Maybe this was how people got hurt.
But then... you thought about the way he'd looked at you across the dinner table. The flowers. The jacket resting over your hair. The way he'd never once made you feel like you had to earn his attention.
Your thumbs moved before fear consumed you.
[Prettiest Girl]: I'd like that, actually :))
[Mingyu]: ๐ฅฐโฅ๏ธ
You couldn't help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, this could be something new.
STICKY SWEET LIKE HONEY
Somewhere between coffee dates that stretched well past sunset, late-night drives with nowhere in particular to go, and Mingyu insisting on driving you to your apartment every single time, the two of you had quietly become inseparable.
One month became two. Two became three.
Neither of you could remember whose idea it was to stop calling them dates and simply start calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Your first outing as an official couple came sooner than you expected.
"Just a few friends," Mingyu assured you while driving to the restaurant. "Nothing scary."
You chuckled nervously, "You say that now."
He laughed as he parked his car. He removed his seatbelt and fully turned to you, "I promise they're nice."
As soon as the two of you entered the restaurant, five heads turned toward your direction. Your eyes widened. You immediately leaned over to whisper to Mingyu. "You never told me your friends were all models."
"Hm?" Mingyu looked at them before looking back at you. "They're not, hon."
"Gyu, they're literally glowing!"
He let out a laugh before leading you over to the table. "Y/N, this is everyone." He gently rested a hand against your lower back. "Everyone, meet Y/N. My prettiest girlfriend ever."
A chorus of greetings followed.
"Hi!"
"It's nice to finally meet you."
"We've heard SO MUCH about you."
You smiled nervously before bowing your head slightly. "It's nice to meet all of you, too."
Then you leaned toward Mingyu again.
"Mingyu-yah," you whispered, "if I'd known your friends looked like this, I would've dressed up better."
The entire table erupted into laughter as you both sat down. Mingyu frowned, "Why?"
"Because they're all ridiculously attractive."
He blinked before looking around the table. "...Them?"
"Yes," you nodded. "them."
"Nah." He waved his hand dismissively. "They're just normal guys with normal jobs."
You looked at him. Then at them. Then back at him. There's no way these people had normal jobs. "You're telling me none of you are CEOs? Models? Nepo babies?"
"Absolutely not," Jaehyun laughed. "We hate nepo babies."
Mingyu nodded in agreement and let out a small "true" before moving his seat closer to yours and putting his arm around your shoulder.
Seokmin pointed at himself. "I'm Seokmin, an elementary school music teacher."
Your jaw dropped, and you shook your head. "No, you're not."
"I am." Seokmin laughed. "I spend my weekdays convincing eight-year-olds that the recorder is a real instrument."
Minghao raised his hand next. "I'm Minghao, and I own a pottery studio."
"Oh? You make bowls and stuff?" You asked, causing Mingyu to chuckle next to you.
"I make aesthetically pleasing bowls and stuff." Minghao corrected. He took a sip of his tea before smiling, "But thank you for assuming I'm a model. I'll take that as a compliment."
"Jungkook. I'm a physical therapist," Jungkook said, taking a bite of the appetizer.
"Seriously?"
"I help people recover from injuries." Jungkook nodded.
You looked at Mingyu, and he nodded. You looked back at Jungkook and gazed at his muscles before looking at his face, "I thought you lifted buildings for a living."
Jungkook chuckled, "I only lift patients who have trouble walking."
Your gaze landed on a quiet man, "Please tell me you at least work in fashion."
He smiled and shook his head. "I'm Eunwoo, and I'm actually a librarian."
Your eyes widened in shock, "You're kidding, right?"
"Nope." Eunwoo shook his head. "I spend most of my day reminding people to whisper."
"I'm Jaehyun, and I work in finance." Jaehyung grinned.
"You... willingly stare at spreadsheets?"
"Unfortunately." Jaehyun chuckled. "I like it, though. Besides, I handle these guys' finances. I can do yours too, if you want. Totally free. These guys just buy me samgyeopsal, or they treat me to a buffet every six months."
"Yah, she doesn't need it." Mingyu pouted. "She has me. Besides, we'll be having a joint account when we get married."
The table fell silent. You slowly turned to look at him.
"What?" Mingyu blinked innocently.
Jungkook looked at him over the rim of his glass. "It's only been three months."
"So?" Mingyu frowned. Minghao sighed into his tea, choosing not to say anything. After all, he meditated earlier that day.
Seokmin sighed. "Ignore him. He's always been like this. Once he likes someone he's all in."
"No, I don't!" Mingyu defended.
"You do," Jaehyun nodded. "It's actually kind of impressive."
You laughed as Mingyu reached for your hand.
"Anyway," he smiled sheepishly, "I'll handle everything. Don't want your pretty mind to be tired."
Seokmin lightly nudged Jaehyun. "Tell her."
Jaehyun sighed dramatically. "My parents couldn't afford college, so I studied hard to get a full-ride scholarship."
"Wow!" You nodded, impressed. "You must be pretty athletic, too, huh?"
Mingyu laughed, "Honey, he's not athletic enough to get through at least one sport. Not even table tennis."
"It's true," Jungkook nodded in agreement, cheeks full of food. "He's terrible at sports."
"I was dirt poor before I became a teacher," Seokmin said with a big grin. "Worked my ass off and everything."
"Same," Minghao nodded. "We all worked our asses off to get where we are."
"Amen." Mingyu raised his glass before drinking. "There are times when I'd hate my fucking job, though. Being an architect is a pain in the ass, but then I realized that this is literally what I prayed for, so I'd cut myself some slack."
You looked around the table once more as Mingyu fixed your hair for you. "So... no trust funds?"
Five heads shook.
"No secret billionaire parents?"
"I wish," Seokmin said.
"No hidden royal family?"
"Unfortunately." Eunwoo sighed.
You laughed. "I seriously can't believe any of you."
"Neither can we," Jungkook muttered, grabbing a piece of kimchi.
Everyone started eating, then another question popped into your head. "How did all of you become friends? I mean, I doubt you were co-workers, given that your line of work is completely different."
Silence. Everyone looked at each other.
"...College?" Jaehyun answered uncertainly.
Minghao nodded, "Technically."
"I honestly don't remember," Jungkook admitted.
"I do!" Seokmin announced proudly. Everyone turned to look at him. "I collected them... like Pokรฉmon."
Jaehyun nodded. "You did."
Without warning, Seokmin shot up from his seat. He pointed dramatically toward absolutely nothing. "GOTTA CATCH 'EM ALL!"
He even threw in a fist pump for good measure. The entire restaurant fell silent. A little kid from another table gasped excitedly, while their mother sighed.
Minghao closed his eyes. "I don't know him."
"You've known me for almost ten years." Seokmin laughed as he sat down again.
"I've tolerated you for almost ten years." Minghao corrected.
Jungkook rubbed his temples. Eunwoo offered an apologetic smile to the surrounding tables. You looked at Mingyu, "Is he always like this?"
Mingyu smiled as he reached under the table to intertwine his fingers with yours. "This is actually one of his calmer days."
"You're joking, right?"
"I wish I were, baby."
You couldn't help but laugh. And just like that, the nerves you'd carried into the restaurant quietly disappeared. As all of you fell into casual conversation, a memory resurfaced again. As much as you want to shake it off, it started playing in your head.
The first time you'd met Jeonghan's friends. Joshua and Seungcheol had welcomed you politely enough.
"It's nice to meet you."
"You too."
For a moment, you'd thought the night would go well. Then the conversation shifted. University stories, military enlistment, old classmates. Inside jokes that had everyone at the table laughing.
You smiled whenever everyone else did, hoping it looked natural. Every now and then, Joshua would glance your way with an apologetic smile, almost as if he realized you'd been quiet for a while.
Seungcheol tried once. "So, Y/N, what do youโ"
Before you could answer, Jeonghan interrupted with a story of his own. The conversation drifted away again. You spent the rest of dinner pushing your food around your plate, wondering if anyone had noticed you'd barely spoken at all. By the time you got home, you couldn't remember if Joshua and Seungcheol knew anything about you other than your name.
"Y/N, you're coming next week, right?" Jaehyun asked.
"Sorry, what's next week?" You asked, turning to Mingyu. He smiled and held your hand, "We do this every week, baby. It's okay if you don't want to go, but just know that the invitation is always open."
"You're so whipped." Jungkook teased, handing his card to pay the bill.
Seeing this, you quickly grabbed your wallet, but Mingyu stopped you. "Don't. Jungkook is paying this week. Next week is on Seokmin." He turned to Jungkook and said, "Also, I don't care. She's my person."
You smiled to yourself, quietly slipping your wallet back into your bag. It wasn't just the way Mingyu said things. It was how naturally they came to him.
"My prettiest girlfriend."
"She's my person."
He never hesitated; not once. Never second-guessed himself. If there was one thing you'd quickly learned after dating Kim Mingyu, it was that he loved loudly. Within an hour of making things official, his lockscreen had changed. By dinner, his profile picture followed. By the end of the night, his Instagram bio proudly read: โฅ๏ธ @yourusername.
Seungkwan kept telling you that you shouldn't compare Mingyu and Jeonghan, but you couldn't help it. They were just... different. Seungkwan would argue that they both loved differently and the way you love is just more in tune with Mingyu. He'd often tell you, "You and Hannie hyung are just way too different."
"What if we matched profile pictures?" You asked Jeonghan.
Jeonghan glanced up from his phone. "...Why?"
"I don't know." You shrugged. "It'd be cute. Besides, everyone would know that we're together."
"Y/N, I don't really see the point." Jeonghan huffed. "I mean, everyone knows we're dating. There's no need to publicize it on Instagram. I'm barely online, anyway. What matters is I love you, and you love me, right?"
Not wanting things to escalate, you gave him a small smile and decided to tease him, "Okay, Barney the Dinosaur."
Jeonghan laughed. "Wow!"
You were dropped off by Mingyu an hour ago. You were just grabbing a snack when you received a notification that Mingyu changed his profile picture. To your surprise, it was a picture of the two of you at dinner a while ago. The picture was taken by Jungkook, and it was a great candid shot.
[Prettiest GF]: Kim Mingyu
[Handsome]: โฅ๏ธโฅ๏ธโฅ๏ธโฅ๏ธ
[Prettiest GF]: You're unbelievable. Can't believe your pfp is a candid photo of us ๐ญ๐
[Handsome]: HAHAHAHA, but I'm YOUR unbelievable, though. I'll pick you up at work tomorrow, okay? Get some sleep, pretty. Good night. I love you so much โฅ๏ธ
Your smile slowly faded. Then, before you could stop it, another memory surfaced.
It had only been a few months into your relationship with Jeonghan. You'd spent the entire evening convincing yourself to say it. When he walked you to your apartment, you took a deep breath.
"Jeonghan?"
"Hm?"
"I... I love you." You stuttered.
The words slipped out before you could lose your nerve. Jeonghan looked at you. Then, he smiled. A small, almost amused smile.
"You do?"
You felt your cheeks warm and nodded. "I do."
He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked down for a second. "I think," he started, searching for the right words. "it's still a little early for me to say that."
Your smile faltered for the briefest moment. "Oh."
"It's not that I don't like you." He was quick to clarify. "I just don't say things unless I'm completely sure."
You nodded. "Right."
"I don't want to tell you I love you because it feels like the right time." He reached over and gently squeezed your hand. "When I say it, I want to mean it."
You smiled. "I understand."
And you did. You really did. It just didn't stop your heart from sinking when you got home.
You stared at your phone. Your thumb hovered over the keyboard. I love you, too. The words came so easily in your head. Your fingers, however, refused to type them. Instead...
[Prettiest GF]: Good night, Gyu โฅ๏ธ
HERE'S TO HOPIN'
Being loved by Kim Mingyu was easy.
He'd show up outside your office with an iced coffee before work because he'd remembered you mentioning you were tired the night before. If you forgot an umbrella, he'd somehow already have one waiting in his car. When you complained about skipping lunch, he'd quietly drop off your favorite food with a sticky note that simply read: eat โฅ๏ธ
He loved loudly. Somehow, that scared you more than you'd ever admit. It wasn't because he was too much. It was because every day, he gave you another reason to believe he'd stay. And a tiny part of you kept wondering what it would feel like if one day, he didn't.
The following Friday came around quicker than expected. Like clockwork, Mingyu was waiting outside your office building. The moment he spotted you walking out, his face lit up.
"There she is." Mingyu smiled, jogging over to you.
You smiled despite yourself. "Have you been waiting long?"
"Nah." Mingyu shook his head, grabbing your bag from you.
You took a good look at him, squinted your eyes suspiciously. "You've been here for twenty minutes, haven't you?"
"Hm," Mingyu scratched the back of his neck. "maybe."
You laughed before slipping your hand into his. "You're unbelievable."
"But I'm your unbelievable." He grinned, swinging your hands as you walked, making you laugh.
Dinner with the boys felt as chaotic as ever. Seungkwan somehow invited himself this week. No one really minded. They all liked Seungkwan, anyway. He was their gossip dealer, and what's life without any gossip?
"I'd just like everyone to know," he announced proudly while taking a seat, "that this relationship exists because of me."
"Here we go," Jaehyun sighed.
"I changed two lives." Seungkwan said, pretending to cry.
"You set up one blind date, Seungkwan-ah." Jungkook corrected. "You didn't cure cancer."
Minghao took a sip of his tea. "The Nobel Peace Prize committee must've missed your email."
"I deserve a medal!" Seungkwan exclaimed, while grabbing some food to put on his plate.
"I'll buy you dinner, Kwannie," Mingyu offered.
"I want a statue." Seungkwan said, taking a bite of food.
You laughed, looked at Mingyu, and then at Seungkwan. "I'll name our first born after you."
Seungkwan gasped dramatically, giving Seokmin whiplash. Seungkwan was practically shaking in his seat. "You mean it?"
"No." You said. The table erupted into laughter. Mingyu quietly placed another piece of grilled meat onto your plate.
"You haven't eaten enough," Mingyu said quietly.
"You worry too much." You chuckled lightly. Mingyu pouted, "I know. Sorry."
You looked at him and cupped his face with your hands. "Don't apologize for caring. I appreciate that you worry about me."
His smile returned instantly.
After dinner, the two of you sat on the hood of Mingyu's car overlooking the Han River. The city lights danced across the water. Neither of you spoke. It wasn't awkward. It never was.
Mingyu was staring at the river. "Can I ask you something?"
You turned toward him, and nodded. "Of course. Ask away."
He stayed quiet for another moment. You waited patiently. He took a deep breath and looked at you. "Do I... love you more than you love me?"
Your stomach dropped. "What?"
He laughed softly. "I know how that sounded, and I'm not asking because I'm upset."
"Mingyu..."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I've just been thinking." He looked over at you. "You never say that you love me back. I mean, you smile, you hold my hand, you kiss me, you call me when you get home, you do all these things..." He smiled. "but you never say it."
Your chest tightened. You didn't know what to say, truly. He quickly shook his head. "I'm not keeping score, I promise. I just..." His smile faded. "Sometimes it feels like you're always waiting for something bad to happen."
"Gyu, I..."
"Honey, I don't know how to convince you that I'm not already halfway out the door. I feel like you're already grieving something that hasn't happened yet, like you're waiting for me to leave before I've even gone anywhere." Mingyu said sadly.
Your eyes immediately welled with tears. "No, Gyu..."
He reached for your hand instinctively. "I know you care about me."
"I do."
"I know." Mingyu gave you a small smile before he looked away. "I just... sometimes I wonder if I'm loving you too loudly."
The words shattered something inside you.
"No." Your voice cracked. "It's not you, Gyu."
He looked back. You took a shaky breath. "It's me."
He looked at you and patiently waited for you to explain your side.
"I know you're not Jeonghan."
His expression softened immediately.
"I've never compared you to him because I wanted to." You said, another tear rolled down your cheek. "I compare you because... I'm scared. So, so scared."
You laughed weakly through your tears. "I didn't think I'd survive that. I barely did. I mean, that was four years of my life."
Mingyu nodded in understanding.
"Then you came along." You smiled at him. "You loved me so easily, so openly, so fearlessly. It's all so new to me because it wasn't like that with Jeonghan."
You looked down at your intertwined hands. "Every time you tell me you love me, a tiny part of me keeps thinking, 'what if this is the last time?", and I don't want to know how you'll leave me. I don't ever want to know what you'll look like when you leave."
Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I love you a lot, Mingyu. I've been too scared to say it out loud."
For a long time, Mingyu didn't say anything. He simply looked at you. Then, he cupped your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed away your tears.
"I'll stay with you," His forehead rested against yours. "for as long as you want me to be."
You closed your eyes.
"I can't promise that we'll never fight. I can't promise I won't disappoint you. I can't promise that life won't get hard." A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "But I can promise you one thing..."
"Yeah?"
"I'm not looking for an exit."
A sob escaped your lips. You wrapped your arms around him. "I love you."
You felt him smile against your hair. "I know."
You pulled back just enough to look at him. "No, you don't."
His eyebrows lifted as you laughed through your tears. You took a deep, trembling breath, "I love you so much."
For the first time since you'd known him, Kim Mingyu was speechless. He simply pulled you into another hug. Holding you as though you had all the time in the world.
"For the record," he smiled. "I also hope I never see what you look like when you leave either." He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
"I mean, the Lord knows I've memorized your face so well, and I'd search for it everywhere until my next life." A tiny laugh escaped him. "You're it for me, honey."
a/n: tysm for all the love you've sent my way for the hoshi installment of this series! i hope you give mingyu's installment the same love i gave while writing it xo
Series taglist: @joongtime @neotannies @seungkwanglazer
part of the hockey!teez series โ ateez masterlist
pairing: ice hockey player!mingi x reader
tags/genre: college au, ice hockey au, smut with plot, friends to lovers, forced proximity/forbidden love to some extent, dom!mingi
word count: 7.4k words
synopsis: on the ice, everyone loves mingi. the way he plays, even the way he fights. off the ice, his grades are slipping and he's at risk of getting benched if he doesn't get his act together. if only there were a highly qualified calculus tutor that could help him out, and if only there were a way he could return the favor ...
notes: 18+ content (mdni!), ok sorry i'm a lying liar who lies and work got busy BUT HERE SHE IS I HOPE U ENJOY IT
โletโs fucking go!โ
the sound of fists on metal lockers echoes through the inner halls of the stadium, followed by the cheers of the winning voyagers as they barrel through. mingi grins as wide as possible as yunho throws his arm over his shoulders, squeezing him in praise of his performance on the ice tonight.
โbro, that last assist went crazy,โ san calls out as he begins to tear off his pads. the others mutter in agreement between conversations of plans for their celebration back at the apartment and who was responsible for picking up the extra bottles of liquor.
โdude, their right defense was insane.โ mingi shakes his head as he recounts the last few moments of the game when he was able to shuffle the puck back to seonghwa with seconds left on the clock.
โand you still fucking crushed it,โ yunho hollers, earning a resounding cheer from the other boys as the coach saunters in. his own smile matches that of the boys, his knuckles tapping rhythmically against the screen of his tablet as they welcome him in a round of sweaty embraces.
โthatโs what i like to see out there.โ the eldest man beams at them, nodding approvingly as the team settles onto the benches that curve through the locker room and look up at him expectantly. โyou keep playing like that, weโre a shoo-in for frozen four.โ
โkeep up those last minute clinches,โ he commends as he turns his attention to mingi, โwell-deserved mvp tonight.โ
โthatโs fucking right,โ wooyoung shouts, the boys laughing through their cheers as mingi shrugs in a feeble attempt to appear humble.
โnow, you want to tell me why your calc professor is emailing me?โ
the energy in the room shifts instantly, the boys falling silent as they begin to mumble amongst themselves awkwardly. each of them becomes incredibly focused on removing their equipment and hitting the showers, leaving mingi slumped on the bench under the now-stern gaze of the coach as he crosses his arms expectantly.
โwhat do you mean?โ mingi asks, although heโs fully aware of what the elder man is referring to.
โoh, you donโt know?โ a dry laugh escapes the coachโs lips as he unlocks his tablet to display a flurry of angry emails on the screen, each of them more exasperated than the last. mingi swallows, running a hand through his cropped black hair with his lips pressed in a thin line.
with the uptick in ice hockey season, mingi hadnโt been the most โฆ exceptional student. it wasnโt exactly because heโd been engrossed in late-night practices or running drills when he should be in class. he was naturally an incredible player as right defense. the issue was more of โฆ late nights celebrating wins in scrimmages and waking up next to girls whose names he wasnโt quite able to remember when the alcohol wore off.
โitโs not my fault calc is at eight in the morning,โ mingi grumbles, rubbing at his eyes for emphasis.
โit is when i know the reason youโre missing class is being blamed on ice hockey,โ coach scoffs, โand i donโt see you on the ice at six am after being out until god-knows-when. and it is when you canโt maintain a passing grade.โ
โokay, okay.โ mingi stands, his tall stature matching the coachโs as he begins to fiddle with the straps on his gear. anything to avert the coachโs gaze. โiโll start showing up more.โ
โno, youโre getting your shit together.โ the coach sets aside his tablet and stares at mingi pointedly. โyou fail your midterm, youโre getting benched.โ
โiโm what?โ mingiโs jaw drops at the threat, ready to protest before the coach presses a finger to his torso to quell him. โweโre literally about to qualify.โ
โiโm well aware of the risk of benching you. but if i keep you on the ice while your grades are slipping, iโm gonna have a lot of people to answer to. and itโs not fair for me to let you get away with it while the other guys are busting ass to maintain their grades.โ
โfuck,โ mingi groans, burying his face in his hands to stifle the sound.
โyou got, what, two weeks until midterms?โ the coach grins at mingi, patting his shoulder as heย moves to leave the locker room and head back to his office down the halls. โbetter start studying.โ mingi watches as his figure disappears, another string of expletives leaving his lips as he slams a fist into his locker.
youโre sitting in the tutoring center the next day, your phone perched between your fingers as you absentmindedly scroll through social media. the university accounts are littered with posts commemorating the ice hockey teamโs recent win, the boys captured with mouths wide as they shout their cheers. you canโt help but laugh through your nose at the sight. you werenโt much of one to follow the campus athletes, but you knew enough from word-of-mouth that they were a rowdy bunch.
โwhy are you still here?โ the senior supervisor for the tutoring center calls out to you from the doorframe, already on her way out as she narrows her eyes at you. with a groan, you set aside your phone and gesture to the clipboard in front of you with the dayโs schedule.
โiโm waiting for my last person before i can clock out,โ you reply. โheโs pushed back our session today like, four times.โ
โgirl, he should have just cancelled or rescheduled at this point,โ she mutters, returning to you to glance at the name of your last student. her eyes widen as yours narrow in confusion at her surprise before a dry laugh escapes her. โoh, thatโs your student? good luck.โ
โwhat do youโโ
โtext me if you need anything,โ she calls out, a smile lingering on her face as she waves goodbye and heads out.
โwhat the hell,โ you mutter, shaking your head at her theatrics as you heave a sigh. maybe she was right; maybe you should just text your last student and tell him you were tired of waiting and that he needed toโ
just then, a tall figure emerges from the doorframe. he stares at you blankly, emotionless as he approaches the counter. you rise from your armchair, staring back at him as you watch his hands fidget while he searches for the words.ย
โhey, uhโโ he glances around, as if the answer was lingering on the walls. โiโm here for tutoring.โ
โwell, this is the tutoring center,โ you tease lightly, crossing your arms. โname?โ
โsong mingi.โ he blinks at you, almost surprised by the fact that you even bothered asking. โdo you not know who i am?โ
โshould i?โ you arch a brow at him. you recognize him faintly from the ice hockey team, but you could imagine the kind of reputation he carried that you couldnโt be bothered to dive into.
โuhโi guess not.โ he buries his hands in his pockets, pursing his lips at your apparent lack of awe at the fact that you were tutoring the song mingi.
โokay.โ you ignore the fact that he seems offended by you not fawning over him and direct him into one of the rooms at the end of the hall. you flip through his application briefly, your eyes scanning over his current grades and what he needed from you for calculus. he follows you wordlessly before settling into the chair across the table from you. the overhead fluorescents keep you awake with the clock quickly approaching a much-too-late hour.
you settle into the chair across from him, brushing your hair from your eyes as you watch him nudge the wire frame of his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. โso, just to confirm. youโre looking for calc tutoring and youโre specifically trying to improve your performance on midterms?โ he nods and you inhale sharply, glancing back down at your notes on his file. โyou know, going to class is usually a good start.โ
โspare me the lecture,โ he huffs, drumming his fingertips on the tabletop as he narrows his eyes at you. โiโm here, arenโt i?โ
โyeah, after telling me youโll be late four times in a row in one day.โ you match his gaze, watching as his expression shifts at the fact that you were willing to challenge him. he clearly seemed like someone that regularly got what he wanted and you were already dreading the coming weeks.
โalright, alright.โ mingi throws up his hands in surrender. โi get it. this is the one class iโm fucking up in, i just need to make it through this class or iโm getting benched.โ
โโฆ then we better get to it.โ
tutoring mingi is like pulling teeth.
his phone vibrates incessantly, he becomes mindlessly consumed by doodling in the margin of his notebooks. you genuinely believe you need to strap him to the chair in order to keep his attention. he struggles to grasp basic conceptsโconcepts that would have been a no-brainer if heโd just go to fucking class.
even worse, he schedules your sessions at the most ridiculous times. the ass-crack of dawn before his hockey practice, the middle of the night after hockey practice but before heโs able to go out for the night and everything he retains goes out the window. he was even so bold as to suggesting you come to his practice and tutor him there, in the bleachers. at this point, you wondered if it was worth the measly hourly rate that you were getting paid to keep this up.
itโs on a random thursday night when youโre in the middle of trying to explain derivatives to mingi that youโre just about ready to call it quits. he nods along until a call he โhas to takeโ turns into a back-and-forth between him and a girl that seemingly was expecting his company for the night.
โbaby, i promiseโno, iโm gonnaโcโmonโโ
with an exasperated, guttural groan, you snatch his phone from his hand and press your thumb against the end call button. mingi gawks at you in disbelief, an expression you meet with pure rage as you slam your pen down and shove his notes back in his direction.
โdude, this is so not worth it,โ you huff, shaking your head as you prepare to collect your things. โfind another tutor, fail, get benched. i donโt give a fuck. this is way more hassle than itโs worth.โ
โwhoa, whoa, whoa,โ mingi stutters, reaching for your wrist and holding onto it to prevent you from making any other attempts to leave. โiโm sorry.โ
โare you?โ
mingi looks at you, really looks at you for the first time since youโd become his tutor. for once, he doesnโt look like the cocky, overly adored star athlete that everyone fawns over. he looks nervous, biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes dart between yours. for the first time, youโre willing to believe him for whatever reason and set your bag down onto the nearby chair with a sigh.
โseriously, mingi,โ you scold, rubbing a hand over your face before you glare at him. โi have a life outside of tutoring you. would be nice to get back to that.โ
โa life, huh?โ mingi chuckles under his breath and you roll your eyes at what you already know are his assumptions of you. a clean-cut, well-put-together bookworm that spends her free time holed away either in the library or at her job in the tutoring center. you shove him gently and he raises his hands in surrender, a sheepish expression washing over his face as he does. โi mean it, though. i donโt want to be a dick. i really just feel like a little bit of a lost cause when it comes to this.โ
โwell, if you focusโโ you emphasize the last word, pressing a finger against the open textbook incessantly. โit wouldnโt be so bad. youโre not stupid. you just donโt give a fuck, but you should if youโre trying to stay off the bench.โ
โโฆ okay.โ
the next several sessions are leagues better than before. as much as mingi struggles, you can tell that heโs trying. the phone stays in his bag, the doodles slow to a stop. on one occasion, he so much as shows up to your session before you do and youโre thoroughly convinced he was switched with a body double.
the morning of his exam, you make a mental note and shoot him a text for good luck.
you: youโre gonna kill it!! good luck
mingi: i donโt need luck
you: oh brother
you: so youโre not nervous at all?
mingi: ofc not
mingi: i had the worldโs best calc tutor
you ignore the way your heart flutters, even just a little, at the response you receive and shove your phone back into your pocket with flushed cheeks before heading to your own exam.
midterms week crawls along, everyone exhausted and mentally spent by the end of it. you volunteer to pick up extra hours at the tutoring center, enough to cover the rest of your spring break expenses even though visitors slow down. a handful of folks preparing for make-up exams keep you busy to pass the time when you hear someone barreling into the center.
โone second,โ you say to the freshman across from you with an apologetic smile in her direction before you hurry out to the lobby where mingi was waiting. he stood before you, hunched over as he swallowed down air to steady his breath. โwhat is happening?โ
he doesnโt answer, still breathless as he fishes for his phone and displays his class portal to you. confused, you squint at the screen to make sense of his sudden intrusion until you widen your eyes and your jaw falls slack. 78/100 is at the center in full display, well above what youโd projected for how mingi was doing from your tutoring.
โno fucking way!โ you cry out, a broad smile etched across your features as mingi nods wildly. without thinking, he lifts you into his arms and you find yourself spun before he sets you down. even then, his hands linger on either side of your waist. you stare up at him for a second too long before clearing your throat and taking a step back. โthatโs insane. super proud of you.โ
โitโs thanks to you,โ mingi concedes, his eyes disappearing with his own grin before a string of notifications captures his attention. you watch him silently, ready to bid him farewell and return to your other student when he grabs your wrist. โhey, the guys are having a thing tonight at the house since exams are over. come out with us.โ
โohโโ you blink in surprise. you werenโt one to hang out much with the hockey boys and their puck bunnies in the past, but you werenโt entirely opposed. โi meanโโ
โwhat, not your kind of vibe?โ mingi teases, gesturing to the walls of the tutoring center around you. โyou rather stay out here tonight?โ
โyโknow, i will come out, actually,โ you reply, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you send him off to finish your final session and mentally begin to assemble an outfit in your mind. โjust text me the address.โ
โbro, i canโt believe you passed,โ wooyoung slurs to mingi later that night. the two stand against the kitchen counter, the party in full swing around them as they pour another round of shots for the team. mingi shakes his head with a laugh under his breath, knocking back the rest of his drink before lowering his cup for a refill.
โiโm just glad my ass is not benched for the next game,โ he mutters before he takes a sip of the mix wooyoung poured him.
โdidnโt you say you invited your tutor tonight?โ mingi nods. โis she hot?โ
โsheโs โฆโ he trails off, thinking back to his sessions with you. the way you were so patient with him, the sound of your laugh when heโd try to make a hockey analogy to a calculus problem. truthfully, he hadnโt given it much thought aside from the fact that you were โฆ well, nice. โi mean, sheโs chill. not my type.โ
โhm.โ wooyoung shrugs just as a knock at the door captures his attention. mingi watches as he goes to answer, nearly dropping his drink when he returns with the newest guest.
โhey.โ you beam up at mingi before glancing around the kitchen to fix yourself a drink.
โsheโs not your type?โ wooyoung mutters under his breath to mingi as they stand in the corner and observe your every move.
mingi is speechless, his eyes trailing over your frame as he tries to steady himself with another sip of his own drink. the way your skirt hugged your frame, the hem of your crop top exposing a dangerous sliver of skin. it was a massive difference from the sweats and oversized hoodies heโd grown used to seeing you in. you glance at him over your shoulder, your kohl-lined eyes sparkling more than usual.
โyou need a refill?โ you ask, gesturing to the half-empty vodka bottle. mingi swallows, shaking his head before he swats wooyoung and his wandering eyes away.
โto be honest, i didnโt think youโd swing by,โ mingi jokes, nudging you gently as you lean against the counter beside him. the scent of your perfume engulfs him, clouding his senses as much as the intoxication.
โwhat, you thought it wasnโt my kind of vibe?โ you roll your eyes playfully and glance around the living room to see if you recognize anyone. aside from mingi, you vaguely pinpoint other members of the ice hockey team and a handful of girls from classes you shared. mingi follows your gaze and scoffs.
โi donโt know, you seem a little nervous.โ
you look up at him and fight to stifle your laugh as you pour an extra dose of vodka into your solo cup. โyeah, okay.โ
mingi quickly loses you in the crowd when a group of girls call you over to join them against some of the hockey boys in a game of beer pong. you happily oblige, unaware of the fact that a certain someone was watching you from the corner of his eye all the while. you relax more quickly than you expected and drift across various conversations, finding yourself particularly enthralled with the hockey boys as they shout over one another on the apartment balcony.
โdude, she was not looking at you.โ
โyes, she was!โ
โno, she wasnโt,โ you interject with a lilt in your voice before you chuckle into your cup and take another sip. the boys holler in agreement, wooyoung cowering against the railing with a groan. you donโt notice mingi continuing to stare at you from his own spot on the balcony beside yunho.
โbro, blink.โ yunho scolds him with a half-grin hanging from his lips. mingi clears his throat awkwardly, struggling to play it off as he notices the way you shiver from a gust of cool night air. without thinking, he shrugs his oversized jacket off and extends it to you with a shake.
โoh, iโm fineโโ
โdonโt worry about it,โ mingi says, something foreign mingling with the buzz from the liquor as he ignores the way yunho hums suggestively beside him.
โguys, weโre gonna play flip cup,โ a girl calls out from the opening in the sliding glass door that leads back to the living room. mingi meets her gaze immediately, recognizing her faintly from one of his many late-night hookups. if only he could remember her name. โwe need one more.โ
โiโll join,โ mingi offers, shuffling in after her without realizing that youโve been watching him as much as he has you. the star athlete persona is in full swing, welcoming the cheers of his arrival and tilting his head back as vodka is streamlined from the bottle into his throat.
as much as you were having a good time, it was a reminder that this was who mingi was at the end of the day. the center of attention, the life of the party. and that wasnโt a bad thing, but it wasnโt necessarily you. suddenly, it feels as though you overstayed your welcome the longer you stare at the way mingi wraps his arms around the waist of the girl that had called him over. he rests his chin on the top of her head, swaying gently as the cups are assembled for the next round of their game.
you clear your throat, downing the rest of your drink before you bid a hasty goodbye to the rest of the boys on the balcony. they urge you to stay in a slur of drunken pleas that you laugh off, promising to join them another time as you slip back into the kitchen to head out. mingi doesnโt look at you anymore, unbothered by the fact that youโre still wearing his jacket. with a sigh, you slip it off of your shoulders and drape it over the back of one of the dining chairs before heading out of the front door.
later that night, mingi releases a satisfied sigh as he surfaces from beneath the bedsheets with the very same girl whose name he couldnโt quite remember. her skin glides along his, their limbs tangled as she dissolves into a string of tipsy giggles.
โcan i have water?โ she asks, her lips swollen after theyโd spent the last ten minutes around the length of mingiโs cock.
โsure thing.โ mingi slips out of bed and into a pair of discarded sweats, his muscles flexing as he saunters back into the kitchen for a glass. only then does he notice his jacket dangling from the back of the dining chair and stills, his mind flooded with the memory of you. he hadnโt seen when youโd left, his first instinct to sift through his messages to text you.
mingi: when did you leave
mingi: sorry i missed you
you pause in your doomscrolling from your own bed, a poor attempt to return to sleep as your eyes widen at the sight of mingiโs notification. the party had ended hours ago. his messages left you confused on how exactly to feel. on one hand, it was surprising heโd even bothered to check in on you. on the other, it took him an eternity to notice that youโd left. your thumb hovers over the reply button, tempted to answer before the voice gnawing at you reminds you that you were just his tutor and you had shown up out of courtesy.
you need to go to bed.
โgot an update on your midterm grades,โ the coach says as he gestures for mingi to join him in his office as the semester resumes. the pair sit on either side of the wide oak desk at the center of the room, staring at the monitor that displays mingiโs most recent transcript. โkeep it that way.โ
โso does this mean โฆโ mingi trails off hopefully.
โas long as you can maintain this passing grade, weโre in the clear. i donโt care what you have to do.โ he glares at mingi in warning. โbut, iโm not playing with you. i donโt want to see any more surprise emails from academia when weโre in crunch time.โ
โyou got it.โ mingi nods, relief flooding his senses.
โnow, get on the ice.โ
mingi trudges back into the locker room after a grueling set of drills, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and his muscles trembling from overexertion. he canโt figure out why his mind wanders to you. he hadnโt heard from you since the party. while a part of him wanted to text you and tell you the good news, a larger part of him felt an overwhelming desire to see you.
biting down on his bottom lip, he opens up the scheduling portal for the tutoring center.
โwhat the fuck,โ you mutter under your breath as you sift through your scheduled clients for the week. beyond the usual freshmen and your regular upperclassmen, mingiโs name appears at the very bottom of the nightโs schedule. he chooses the absolute latest slot youโd kept available for emergency sessions when someone needed help outside of traditional work hours.
you hadnโt heard from him since the party. the fact that he was choosing to submit a formal tutoring request versus just texting you irked you, but you ignore it and accept the request begrudgingly. you swipe back to your last conversation with him, staring at the messages heโd sent nearly a week ago before spring break from when youโd slipped away undetected.
with a sigh, you accept the request and mentally ready yourself for another late night with mingi.
โfancy seeing you here,โ mingi says as he saunters into the otherwise isolated study room. you scoff, taking a sip of the coffee you brewed in a desperate attempt to stay alert at the late hour.
โfunny,โ you huff, gesturing for him to take the chair next to you. โso, howโd your convo with your coach go?โ
โiโm actually in the clear for the rest of the season,โ mingi beams, leaning back into his chair with his hands propped up behind his head. โthanks to you.โ
โthatโs great news,โ you reply earnestly. โwas that all you needed today? you didnโt have to make an appointment to let me know.โ
โi know,โ mingi hums as his eyes trail over you. โi just figured i needed to find a way to return the favor.โ your cheeks burn as you avert his gaze, tension suddenly hanging over the pair of you in the increasingly small study room. your lips part as you struggle to respond, irritated by the fact that mingi was clearly enjoying the way he was able to get under your skin.
โrepay what favor?โ you ask. โiโm your tutor. you donโt owe me anything.โ
โwhat if i really want to show you how much i appreciate the help?โ
โleave a good review for me, then.โ
โyou know thatโs not what i mean.โ mingi stares at you earnestly, his hands fidgeting in his lap before he inches closer. your breath hitches in your throat, a dry swallow following as you bite down on your bottom lip. โthereโs no way you donโt want to.โ
you know exactly what heโs talking about, but you hold firm.
โweโre not having that conversation while iโm your tutor.โ
you both stare at one another silently, teetering along the edge of a dangerous line you didnโt even realize you were falling victim to. youโd surprisingly grown used to mingiโs company, to the point that you looked forward to seeing him when you had sessions scheduled. the night you saw him at the party, when the lines blurred between your tutoring arrangement and just โฆ you, as people, you knew you were in trouble.
but you also knew that he was trouble.
mingi blinks at your rejection, his jaw tensing slightly as he arches a brow at your response. a smile suddenly spreads across his face as he nods, drumming his fingers against the table once. โokay.โ
โokay?โ
โyeah, okay.โ
โhuh.โ you narrow your eyes at him, half-expecting him to continue trying to egg you on. when you realize he isnโt, you shake your head and struggle to conceal your own smile. โthen weโre done here tonight.โ
you lay in bed later that night, cursing yourself mentally as you scroll through the ice hockey teamโs account. a stray comment from what you assume is mingiโs account catches your eye and you pause. pursing your lips, you allow yourself to look at his photos and grumble at the fact that youโre even entertaining the idea of mingi.
the next several weeks feel like your own personal hell.
all you can think about is mingi. the way he looked at you that night, the fact that he opened the door to a dangerous possibility that you hadnโt given a second thought before then. you struggle to stay focused during your tutoring sessions, something mingi picks up on as he smirks to himself. he invites you to hang out with the teammates at other parties and trips to the bars downtown and you reject him each and every time, as if itโd preserve your resolve.
โyou going to the game tonight or something?โ your supervisor asks you during one of your last shifts of the semester. she catches you over your shoulder, following your eyes to where the poster for the final matchup between the voyagers and their rival team is being advertised across socials. you clear your throat, awkwardly tossing aside your phone as you shake your head and she laughs at you in response. โhey, no judgment here.โ
โjust keeping tabs on my students,โ you lie poorly, earning another chuckle.
thatโs all you were doingโmaking sure that your student was meeting all of his obligations. after all, the goal of you tutoring him was to secure his place on the starting lineup for the critical games. there was no reason for you to overthink if you wanted to go to the game. sure, youโd never been to an ice hockey game before in your life, but it didnโt have to mean anything.
it didnโt mean anything.
the second you set foot into the arena later that night, the adrenaline overwhelms you. the bleachers are filled with voyagers fans, their jerseys in matching colors with the universityโs emblem etched across the front. the scent of spilled beer and popcorn fills your nose as you shuffle down to your seat near the plexiglass. the game is already in full swing, the sound of metal skates cutting across the frozen surface of the rink coupled with men yelling plays to each other.
you narrow your eyes, a shiver running down your spine when you notice the 89 on the back of mingiโs towering frame. he circles the back half of the rink, his eyes locked on the incoming players as they barrel towards the home goal. you become engrossed in the game, understanding very little but following along enough to at least cheer at the right time.
sirens blare through the arena, the voyagers securing their spot in the final with a 3-2 win. mingi circles the ice, fists high in the air as the crowd cheers him on. he skates to a stop to celebrate with the other boys, hoisting hongjoong up into the air to praise their captain. you laugh at his antics, clapping along with the rest of the fans as the team strips off their helmets.
mingiโs gaze travels across the ice, your heart nearly stopping when his eyes lock on yours. the rest of the arena grows muffled, replaced by a faint ringing in your ears as every part of you screams to look away from him. running a gloved hand across his hair in his face, mingi feels a smirk creep onto his face as realization dawns on him.
you came to see him.
even with all of the guardrails, even with being firm about not even entertaining the idea of crossing a line with him while you were his tutor, you couldnโt fight the fact that you wanted to see him. something that mingi quickly picks up on as he nods once before returning his attention to the rest of his team.
itโs not more than an hour after the game when your phone vibrates on your bedside table.
mingi: i donโt want you to be my tutor anymore
your blood runs cold at the sudden rejection, your mind reeling as you try to understand what the problem could be. you literally saw him for a session the day before, with plans to finalize his sessions until the week before finals. he told you himself that he didnโt want to risk not being tutored before finals, especially with the chance of the voyagers making it to the finals. you wonder if you did something wrong as your thumbs move faster than your mind.
you: ???
you: is something wrong
mingiโs bubble appears and disappears for what feels like an eternity before his reply.
mingi: no, just might switch to someone else until finals tbh
after all this time?
you narrow your eyes as you reread mingiโs messages, confusion growing with every passing second. there was no reason for mingi to suddenly want to cut your tutoring short. that aside, the ice hockey team just made it to the finals. there was no way he wasnโt actively at a party, three shots in with a girl in his lap. the mental image makes you grimace before you find yourself ready to dial mingi without a second thought.
and so, you do.
his end of the line is quieter than you expected. you clear your throat, quickly realizing you hadnโt thought of what you were going to say.
โuh, hey,โ you start, โwhatโs going on?โ mingi remains silent for a long while, too long as you feel your heart hammer against your ribcage. desperate to fill the silence, you continue. โare you not going out with the guys to celebrate?โ
โlater,โ he finally replies, his voice eerily steady. โkinda wanted to figure โฆ this out first.โ
โand what exactly is this?โ you ask, confused as ever.
โyou canโt be my tutor anymore.โ
โbut, what did iโโ
โyou said youโre not having this conversation as long as youโre my tutor,โ mingi says, recounting your exact words from when heโd first offered to โreturn the favorโ of you helping him stay off of the bench. โso, stop tutoring me.โ
โโฆ meet me at the tutoring center,โ you say firmly, ignoring every warning bell in your mind as you grab your keys before hanging up.
the study room is dark as you enter, shuffling through the termination paperwork youโd printed before mingi arrived shortly after you. mingi stares up at you in amusement as you scan the documents quickly and slide them across the tabletop to him.
โseriously?โ he scoffs as he reviews the exit paperwork in the dim lighting. you watch while he signs each sheet carefully, parsing through the final review feedback before sliding it back to you. without a word, you shift the papers to the other end of the table.
neither of you say anything for a moment, your eyes locked on one anotherโs as the weight of unspoken tension grows heavier and heavier. your mind begins to blur the line between mingi as your student and mingi as the man that looked at you in a way youโd never been looked at before. desire creeps along your skin, desperate to be satiated.
you assume mingi has nothing more to say as you stand. you take so much as two steps towards the door when he grabs your wrist, pulling you into him before his lips crash against yours. a whimper escapes you as he guides you by the small of your back to straddle him, your legs on either side of his waist as his fingers dig into your hips to hold you steady.
your mind races, struggling to keep up with the way every nerve ending in your body is on fire when mingi shifts so that you could feel every inch of him pressed against your inner thigh through the fabric of your sweats. the friction coaxes a gasp from you, a sound that he swallows as he slips his tongue into your mouth to glide against yours.
โfuck,โ he mutters against your lips as he resurfaces, his chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath before he pulls you into another string of messy, open-mouthed kisses. you finally succumb to the desperate need youโd been stifling ever since mingi had welcomed the possibility. you still knew exactly what kind of guy he could be. you still knew that you were mere seconds out of a strictly professional arrangement.
and right now, you could give no less of a fuck.
your hips buck against mingiโs, grinding into him as he tilts his head back with a blissful sigh. his hands never leave your sides, gripping your flesh as if it would tether him to the chair before you lower your mouth to the crook of his neck. a low groan rumbles in his throat as you trace the tip of your tongue along the sensitive skin just beneath his jaw.
he hums, sinking his fingers into your hips so that he could lift you onto the table. the wooden surface is cool beneath your skin as you lay back, the termination paperwork fluttering to the ground when mingi shoves it aside. his eyes trail over every inch of you, slow and predatory in a way that has you squeezing your thighs together for some kind of friction. his fingers curl around your throat with a grip thatโs firm enough to have you gasping for air as his other hand lowers the hem of your sweats. the fleece fabric falls to the ground, exposing your already soaked panties.
โall that talk,โ he chides, dragging one of his fingers along the fabric plastered to your throbbing clit. your head falls back, his fingers still latched onto your throat. โand you wanted me to fuck you, after all.โ he hoists you up by the nape of your neck, his palm holding you steady as his free hand continues to stroke along the length of your folds.
โsay the word and iโll stop,โ he continues, all while continuing to trace circles around your clit. โwe can go back so youโre just my tutor.โ
โa-ah,โ you whimper, twitching against the tabletop as your toes curl from the pleasure. a half-smile lingers on mingiโs face as he hooks a finger on the hem of your panties to slide them down your legs before lowering himself onto his knees. you feel your chest tighten at the sight, anticipation stirring in your core as he peppers kisses along your inner thighs with his eyes locked on yours.
โno?โ he asks, teasing evident in his voice as his breath grows closer and closer to your dripping entrance. โyou donโt want me to stop?โ
โno,โ you breathe, the sound quickly replaced by a guttural moan when mingiโs tongue dips into your entrance and traces long, languid strokes. his hands settle on your knees, holding them apart until youโre able to push through his grip and nearly suffocate him between your thighs. he groans at the sudden pressure and flattens his tongue along your folds before he latches onto your clit. โoh, fuck, mingiโโ
your hands thread through his cropped hair in a desperate attempt to ground yourself as you feel pleasure flooding through your torso. mingi eats you out like itโs his last meal on earth, his eyes never leaving yours as you whimper through a string of expletives at the way his tongue feels against your skin.
โiโfuck, iโm gonnaโโ before youโre able to get the words out, mingi stops abruptly and rises to his feet. you glower at him, ready to curse him out for the change of pace when he slips two fingers into you with ease. the sudden intrusion draws a cry from you as your back arches off of the table, enough so that mingi can slide an arm around your waist to hold you upright. his eyes scan your face for every sign of pleasure, from the way your eyes nearly roll back in your head to the way you bite down on your lip to quiet yourself.
โride my fingers for me,โ he commands gently, his lips swollen and glistening after going down on your. gripping onto his shoulders, you oblige and grind your hips down onto his hand before he curls his fingers deep inside of you. the familiar wave of pleasure threatens to spill over for the second time, something that mingi notices as he picks up the pace and thrusts his fingers in and out of you.
you donโt warn him this time, your clipped breaths and the sounds you make enough of an indicator that you were close. mingi reclaims your lips in a heated kiss, the taste of you lingering on his tongue as your fingernails sink between his shoulder blades. your orgasm ripples through you, so much so that youโre sure the room is spinning when you finally come to.
โgood girl,โ mingi praises lowly, bringing his fingers to his own lips to taste you. before you can steady your breath, the sound of him shoving his own sweats lowers so that he could free his cock from the restraints of his boxers has heat stirring within your core.
you glance down at him, your lips parted as you watch him stroke himself with whatโs left of you on his fingers. mingiโs chest staggers with bated breaths of his own as his eyes meet yours, his pupils blown wide from the pleasure before he lifts your ankles onto either of his shoulders. your back hits the desk again and you swallow, mentally preparing yourself for how much you knew he was about to stretch you out.
mingi eases into you, a stifled groan rumbling in his throat as he bottoms out. you gasp, your nails clawing at the tabletop in an attempt to find anything you could grip onto before he begins to move. he falls into a slow, rhythmic pace, enough for you to adjust to his size before his hips begin to slam erratically into yours.
the force of his thrusts drag the table along the tiled floors, the sounds concealed by the way you were about to scream. mingi bites down on his lower lip hard enough heโs about to draw blood, outstretching a hand to cover your mouth. the taste of you lingers on his fingers, his palm firm against your lips as he picks up the pace so that heโs fully sliding in and out of you. if it hadnโt been for his hand, you were sure to have screamed bloody murder.
unexpectedly, mingi presses a kiss to your ankle before lowering it so that you could wrap your leg around his waist. you push your heel into the small of his back, urging him closer as he braces himself with his forearms on either side of you.
โfuck, you feel so good,โ mingi growls against your ear, his voice lowered with every thrust. you moan in agreement, your walls clenching around him to draw him in deeper before heโs fully outside of you again. he backs away just enough to tower over you and nudges the side of your thigh. โflip over for me.โ
like clockwork, you slide off of the tabletop and turn away from him on shaky legs. mingi nudges your thighs apart further with his knee, his broad palm pressing into your back to lower your torso back onto the table before shoving himself back into you. he fills you up even more from this angle and you grit your teeth when he lands a string of smacks against your ass.
โo-oh, fuck,โ you groan, your knuckles white as you grip the edge of the table and arch your back into mingi. he fists a hand through your hair, already tousled from being fucked senseless before he lowers himself to the shell of your ear.
โyou like that?โ he asks, his thrusts beginning to grow erratic. โlet me hear it.โ
โyes,โ you breathe, โfuck, yesโโ
โyou wanna cum all over my dick?โ he huffs breathlessly as he pounds into you. โbe a good girl for me?โ
โoh, fuck,โ you whine, your thighs trembling as you feel your second orgasm rack your body. the pleasure washes over you, another drawn-out cry escaping you before you fall limp onto the table. mingi follows soon after, filling you to the brim with hot streaks of cum that you feel trickling from your entrance as he pulls out of you.
the pair of you say nothing for a long while, focused on cleaning yourselves up and getting dressed. the room reeks of sex, the table askew and the windows fogged from the rising heat. your mind is flooded with voices reminding you that it was a terrible idea to have ever fucked mingi and that you needed to make it clear that it was a one-time thing.
you turn to him and before you could get another word out, mingi grins at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. โso, same time tomorrow?โ
PAIRING:ย Detective!Mingyu x f. Reader
SUMMARY:ย In a city where technology makes it possible to shed your body as easily as changing clothes, Mingyu has built his reputation hunting criminals who disappear behind new faces. So when you become the prime suspect in a brutal string of serial murders, he should have no trouble closing the case. Except... the more he investigates you, the less he's convinced you're guilty.
TEASER WC:ย 2.3k
AU:ย Cyberpunk, Mystery, Crime
GENRE: Strangers to Lovers, some angst, smut
RATING:ย 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
TEASER WARNINGS: This teaser contains vivid depiction of a dead body that has been intentionally disfigured/messed with by a serial killer - I will call this body horror simply because I want to play it on the safe side, mention of dead bodies in general, depiction of gore and blood (in the dead body scene), bodies being referenced to as 'Skins' because replacing the body is possible in this world, lots of commentary on wealth gap, lots of references to how humanity just doesn't care about human livelihood the same way it did once, mentions of deep poverty, mentions of throw away Skins (bodies) being dumped in an alleyway, Mingyu is kind of emo, Mingyu is a cigarette smoker because what is a detective fic without cigarette smoking
A/N:ย This is for the Cyberpunk: Reload Collab hosted by @studiosvt and I could not be more excited to be bringing this to you! This is heavily inspired by Altered Carbon, Ghost in the Shell, and Blade Runner. This fic is a bit gritty in the visuals so I apologize for the gory bits when Mingyu is investigating murders, but that comes with the genre a little.
AN 2: Thank you to the beautiful, wonderful, talented, show stopping, ground breaking, earth shattering, amazing, beautiful, perfect @joshujin for this AMAZING banner because I hated all the ones I made and Trixie is an angel muah.
DROP DATE: Sunday, July 19
MAIN M. LISTย |ย ASKย |ย CYBERPUNK: RELOAD M. LIST
it has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world.
- chaos theory
"THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT IS A PRINCIPLE IN CHAOS THEORY THAT STATES THAT SMALL, SEEMINGLY INSIGNIFICANT CHANGES IN INITIAL CONDITIONS CAN TRIGGER MASSIVE, UNPREDICTABLE, AND VASTLY DIFFERENT OUTCOMES IN COMPLEX SYSTEMS-"
Mingyu knows what the butterfly effect is. In fact, the exact audio recording playing on loop throughout the penthouse apartment is the same audio that's been haunting his dreams and the moments of almost sleep he's been having at his desk while filling out piles and piles of paperwork at the station.
Now, the audio is playing again at the third crime scene in as many months, and he's had it.
"Turn that shit off," he barks, walking through the flickering holograph of the caution barrier. His legs disrupt the light only for a second, shadows bounding off the walls as he enters the main living area. "I'm tired of hearing about the fucking butterfly effect."
He was tired of researching it, too. Researching why a serial killer would leave the same recording playing at each crime scene over and over again, researching what the murders could possibly have to do with one another. So far, the first five victims have no connection to one another, nothing that clues Mingyu into what's going on beyond the same audio on loop. He doesn't expect this sixth victim will have any connection to their predecessors, but he has to try.
A grisly scene paints the penthouse. It's a nicer home than anything Mingyu will ever afford with floor-to-cieling windows that overlook the neon smear of the city. Rain blurs against the glass, turning the glow beyond to a muted opaque color that clashes with the bright caution banners and the lights of the investigative unit called to the scene.
The penthouse reeks of the metallic tang of blood and the faint tang of the chemicals the collection team uses to take samples all around the apartment. The victim lies splayed across the massive obsidian coffee table in the main entertainment area, arms and legs extended at unnatural angles. It's a male body, the torso filleted open from sternum to pelvis with surgical precision, the ribs cracked outward like grotesque wings.
Mingyu has seen five of these now. Each one has been more elaborate than the last. Each one leaves him with the same hollow frustrating gnawing at his gut.
"Lee," he barks at the lead forensic tech hovering nearby. "Anything different this time? Prints? Core signature? A confession, perhaps?"
Chan shakes his head, his rain-slicked jacket shedding beads of water onto the floor. "Same as the others. No prints, and the audio rig is the same ghost job as the last. The victim owns the building, his name is Harlan Voss. He got a new Skin a few weeks ago at Sync Corp. Nice model, nothing too extreme."
Mingyu crouches beside the table, his boots squelching in the thin layer of blood that has spread across the marble. Through the windows, the city pulses below, bright signs for body rental shops and upgrade clinics flashing in the downpour. Towering buildings disappear into the clouds, connected by old elevated trains that rattle in the distance.
Mingyu looks at the body. Chan had said the Skin upgrade was nothing too extreme, but in a world where people swap bodies regularly, the word extreme has lost most of its value, especially for people like Harlan Voss who are wealthy enough to transfer the Core implanted in their brain stem to a new body anytime they want.
It makes permanent death uncommon for people of this caliber. Mingyu tilts his head to the side, examining the back of Harlan's neck where his Core is. Like the others, it's damaged, which means Harlan is dead dead. No transferring his Core to a new body after the death of this one, no regeneration.
It unsettles something deep in Mingyu like satisfaction, and he pushes it down. He has no time to be disgusted by the Skin jumping of the wealthy while the people below scrap together money to upgrade their Skins to something new or broken just for the prestige of doing it.
Mingyu pushes up to his feet, joints popping and back aching. He groans - unlike the dead victim in front of him, he can't pay to have the tiny device buried in his neck to be transferred to some upgraded flashy skin. One would assume that as law enforcement, he'd get some kind of special discount or offers to enhance his speed, strength or something, but Mingyu has quickly learned that only the wealthy benefit from anything in this city.
He looks around the room slowly, eyes scanning for anything out of place. A broken glass on the bar counter. A half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey tipped over, mixing with the blood into a pink mess. Framed pictures on the walls show vacation spots in brighter cities, the kind most people only see in ads. One frame lies smashed on the floor, exposing basic wiring behind the fancy cover. Typical rich place that looks expensive on top but cheap underneath.
"Why butterflies?" Mingyu mutters to himself. "Chaos theory. One small change leads to big results. Like a butterfly flapping its wings and starting a storm somewhere else."
The killer isn't hiding the message. Each killing has happened once a month - not on a perfect timing, but approximate. Each scene is bigger - more wing shapes, more lights, the same audio. But the victims are never the same and thus far, there's no link between them. No shared friends, no common jobs, nothing on the basic records. A nobody found in a cheap rental unit. An escort pulled from a job. Nothing ties them together except this ritual.
But Mingyu doesn't know what this ritual is.
Frustration burns in his chest. Five months of this, nights bleeding into days at the station, staring at paper files and holoscreens while rain water leaks onto his desk. His own body feels worn out - aches deep in his joints, eyes burning constantly from lack of sleep. Unlike the dead man in front of him, Mingyu can't afford a new Skin on a detective's pay.
"Detective Kim?" Chan calls, voice unsure. Mingyu spins on his heel to find Chan crouched by the body, holding a small device in his hand near the core in the victim's neck. "I think the core is damaged but not dead."
"What?"
Mingyu strides over, his long legs making it easy. Chan crouches lower, the glasses on his face sliding down his sweaty nose. Mingyu leans over, tilting his head as Chan gently nudges the victim's head to turn it more. The Core is exposed to the elements and cut, like the attacker had been cutting it out to kill it, but as it catches the light, there's a small blip of cyan along the side, flickering as it tries to regain connectivity.
"Holy shit," Mingyu whispers. "If it's still alive, can you re-gen this guy?"
"Maybe, but it's potentially damaged enough that he would come back with high-level personality disorders or other cognitive issues. We might be able to repair enough to access memory or information, though." Chan hesitates. "Legal might get involved. If he's got family or others left behind, they might demand the Core be delivered to them to figure out what to do with it or refuse access to us."
Mingyu's hums, thoughtful. The possibility of interference is higher than he'd like to admit. In the few cases that Mingyu has dealt with the elite, their spouses or family left behind have always been nearly impossible in active investigations. He's since learned that those who sit in gilded glass towers have more to hide than the criminals crawling on the ground, and they'd rather a case go cold than unearth their secrets.
"Are we required to notify them?" Mingyu asks, glancing at Chan.
"Yes?"
"What if we only found it was discovered functional later in a proper autopsy."
Chan looks uncomfortable for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. That would make sense."
"Autopsies get delayed, right?" Chan sighs and Mingyu grins, slapping him on the back as he stands again. "Glad we understand each other, Lee. Take care of this while I walk around the area, yeah?"
"Yes, Detective."
Mingyu leaves the apartment and takes the stairs instead of the elevator, his knees protesting with each step. The exercise feels good though, so he jogs down the winding stairs, mind racing. By the time he reaches the ground level, he's sore and his heart is pounding, both reminders that he's human and that he's in his natural body, two things he's grown to be proud of.
The lobby is sleek, made up of polished obsidian and soft blue recessed lighting. Mingyu strolls through the automatic doors, the air locks hissing as he lets himself out into the rain, shoes tapping wetly on the pavement.
Reaching into his pocket, he fishes out a cigarette - an ancient, old world habit in comparison to the sleek vapes most people use - and sticks it between his lips, digging around his pocket for a lighter. He finds it and flicks it, the orange flame licking upward as he lights the cigarette, taking a brief drag. The flame catches and he flicks it shut, taking a heavy drag and lets the smoke settle in his lungs before he exhales into the neon smear of rain.
The street level is quieter this time of night, most of the storefronts closed, their holographic signs still flickering anyway. The street is full of advertising and marketing for Skin modification services, Core implant repairs, temporary Skin rentals for people too poor to own one permanently but desperate enough to spend a night as someone else.
Neon bleeds across the wet pavement in streaks of magenta and cyan, reflecting off the rain to create a blurry kaleidoscope of light that makes Mingyu's eyes water as he takes another drag, flicking ash into a puddle where it melts.
He walks, letting his feet guide him around the perimeter of the building, cool raing tapping down on his head and neck like soft fingers. He doesn't bother with an umbrella, the rain sliding off his jacket as he examines the exterior, cigarette wedged between his lips.
The neighborhood is a mix of high-rises towering over strip malls, luxury boutiques selling pricey mods next to hole-in-the-wall clinics offering illegal and questionable upgrades. It's one of common liminal spaces in the city where the almost wealthy clash with the lower glass, each fighting for dominance on the ground while the megaliths of the city exist in their towers far above.
Mingyu wonders what the rest of them look like from on high. He imagines that they can't even see people like him, rotting beneath the clouds and scurrying around like ants beneath a boot that's constantly waiting to step on them. Mingyu has been stepped on plenty of times, but he hasn't died yet and he doesn't plan on it now, heading to the back alleyway behind the building.
Dumpsters filled with broken tech litter the alleyway, but Mingyu pauses when he sees a bunch of old, rotted Skins. He lifts his arm, covering his face with it to ward off the smell. Skins are still bodies - they're still organic material like any other living organism, and they break down the same way. Seeing tossed Skins isn't uncommon, especially near body-mod shops, but Mingyu is unsettled to see them just tossed, flies buzzing around them.
Pulling out his phone, he dials Chan up stairs. "Send a team down to the back alley, there's discarded Skins. None of them look fresh or functional, but maybe our killer tosses theirs."
"On it."
"Also have someone dispose of these before someone wanders around and tries to take them. They're rotted beyond use, the last thing we need is some kind of infection going around because people are re-genning bad Skins."
"Understood."
Mingyu hangs up the phone and takes the final drag of his cigarette before flicking it toward the dumpster. He continues on his way, searching - for what he doesn't know. Something. Anything. He just wants to find something to help him unravel the mystery upstairs, something he's missed previously.
As always, he finds nothing except the smell of wet concrete and biological decay, the distant hum of an elevated train line cutting through the noise somewhere. He circles back to the front of the building and finds himself looking upward. The building is a vertical monument to wealth that juts up into the rain-soaked sky, but it's got nothing on the monstrosities the corporation owners and mega-rich of the city live in.
The rain grows heavier, coming down in sheets. Mingyu slips under the overhang in front of the building, watching as the world vanishes to a blur of light behind the rain. From here, he knows the city by heart - it spreads out in layers, the commercial district with aggressive neon signage, the old industrial zones still smoking from plants that are ready to collapse any minute, and beyond, the entertainment and wealthy districts.
Trains arc across the space between buildings while autonomous vehicles move through the streets in perfect formation, headlights occasionally cutting through the dark toward him as they pass by the building.
They city pulses on despite the death upstairs, the desperation and money and excess and filth all tangled together, and somewhere in it, is the person Mingyu is hunting, the butterfly that haunts his dreams and all of the hours in between.
Mingyu sighs, jaw clenched as he watches the rain, the same words on loop in his head: The butterfly effect is a principle chaos theory that states that small, seemingly insignificant changes in initial conditions can trigger massive, unpredictable, and vastly different outcomes in complex systems.
What about mingyu x dancer reader where sheโs his backup dancer??! Maybe smut? Up to you!!
Backstage || Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
A/n: love love lovee this
Wc: 2,049
Warnings: smut! oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it!)
MASTERLIST
-
The hallway was a mess in the way it always was right before a show. People moving too fast, voices overlapping, someone calling cues into a headset.
You moved through it carefully but quickly, one hand fixing the belt at your waist, the other brushing against your thigh as you walked.
The fabric of your outfit felt tighter than usual, probably because your nerves were sitting just beneath your skin.
You glanced up every few steps, weaving between dancers and crew, trying not to collide with anyone rushing the opposite direction.
Another dancer brushed past your shoulder, someone else rushed by with a garment bag, and you barely had time to glance up before moving again. It was loud, cramped, and chaotic.
A hand wrapped firmly around your wrist and before you could even process it, you were being pulled sideways, out of the stream of people and into the nearest door.
The bathroom. The door shut behind you with a heavy thud, cutting off the noise like someone had flipped a switch. Then came the sharp click of the lock.
Silence. Your back barely had time to register the cool surface of the door before he was there.
Mingyu's grip loosened from your wrist but didnโt leave you entirely, fingers sliding down just slightly like he didnโt want to let go yet.
His chest rose and fell a little faster than usual, hair styled perfectly like he wasnโt minutes away from going on. "I've been looking everywhere for you," he murmured, voice low, a little breathless.
Your lips parted, but nothing came out at first. His gaze dropped, taking you in like he had all the time in the world, even though you both knew he didnโt. Both of you didn't.
โWe're about to go on stage,โ you managed, quieter than you expected, your hands instinctively finding the front of his shirt, gripping it just slightly. โYou should be focusing.โ
โI am focused,โ he said immediately, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned in closer, his forehead almost brushing yours.
The tension between you wasnโt new, it never was, but tonight it felt more reckless. Like the countdown ticking somewhere outside that room only made it worse.
Your pulse jumped when his hand slid to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to pull you closer. Not rushed, but urgent in a way that made your breath hitch.
โMingyuโฆโ you warned softly, though there was no real resistance in it.
He huffed out a quiet laugh against your skin, like he knew exactly how empty that warning was.
โTheyโll be calling you any second,โ you added, even as your body leaned into him without thinking.
Mingyuโs lips twitched, just slightly. โThen I guess we donโt have much time, do we?โ he murmured, voice low and teasing.
His hand came up, slower this time, giving you every chance to stop him. You didnโt.
His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, the way he was looking at you made your throat go dry. You swallowed without thinking, your grip on his shirt tightening just a little.
โPlease,โ he said quietly, leaning in closer, his voice dropping even further. โI need this right now.โ
A moment of silence, before he speaks up again. โAnd I know you do too.โ It wasnโt even the words, it was the way he said it.
Like he already knew your answer. Like he could feel it in the way you were standing so close, the way you hadnโt pushed him away.
You hated how right he was. Your hand moved before you could think better of it, sliding up to the back of his neck, fingers curling into his hair as you pulled him down to you.
Any hesitation? Gone. The kiss was messy, rushed, like neither of you had the patience to slow it down.
His hands moved over you like he was trying to memorise every inch all at once, pulling you closer, tighter.
โGyu,โ you breathed against his lips, your voice uneven, โyou have to be quick.โ
โAlways,โ he murmured, the word brushing warm against your jaw as his lips trailed there instead. The shift in height caught you off guard more than anything.
One second he was towering over you, the next heโd dropped down, fingers already undoing your jeans and sliding them down along with your underwear.
You sucked in a breath, your fingers immediately finding his hair again, gripping lightly. He looked up through his lashes, mouth already inches from you.
โGotta taste you before I fuck you. Rules are rules," he murmured, voice low, almost a tease, but it didn't feel like one.
Before you could respond, his grip tightened on your thighs, pulling you closer, anchoring you in place. His tongue was slow at first, long, deliberate strokes that made your knees buckle.
Your breath hitched, your head falling back against the door with a soft thud, eyes squeezing shut for a second as the feeling hit all at once.
Too much, too fast, but not nearly enough at the same time. โMingyuโโ his name broke out of you, uneven, barely steady.
His hands kept you right where he wanted you, fingers pressing into your skin, spreading your thighs wider, pulling you closer to his mouth.
Your chest rose and fell quickly, breaths turning shaky, your grip in his hair tightening without thinking.
โGyuโ oh my godโโ
โYeah, baby,โ he murmured, his voice rough, low enough to send a shiver straight through you.
Your fingers tightened in his hair, grip almost desperate now, your head pressing harder against the door as your breathing fell apart completely.
He sucked gently, then harder, alternating with slow circles of his tongue that had you grip his hair even harder.
Your knees threatened to give out, your body reacting faster than your brain could keep up with, a soft, broken sound slipping from your lips before you could stop it.
He just hummed in response, the sound low, satisfied, like he liked hearing you like this. Liked knowing exactly what he was doing to you.
Your hips moved without thinking, grinding his into face, chasing the feeling. You were close, so close, and he knew it.
โCome for me,โ he whispered, voice muffled against your heat. โRight here.โ
The words sent something straight through you, and that was all it took. Your body tensed, then gave in, trembling as you pressed back against the door, your grip in his hair tightening just to stay upright.
He didnโt pull away. If anything, he stayed right there, groaning into you like he loved it, like he wanted you to melt all over his mouth.
Your breathing fell apart, chest rising and falling unevenly as you came down, your head still tipped back, eyes shut.
Before you could even steady your breathing, he was back on his feet, one hand coming up to tilt your chin toward him as his lips found yours again.
The kiss was deeper, slower, like he was savouring it despite the rush, like he didn't care that time was running out.
Your hands instinctively came up to his shoulders, gripping as he pulled you closer, his fingers pressing into your bare hips.
You barely had time to react before he was guiding you off the door and backwards, step by step, until the edge of the counter hit behind you.
โTurn around,โ he said softly against your lips. You hesitated for half a second, meeting his eyes, searching his face like you needed to steady yourself.
Then you turned, palms pressing against the cool surface of the counter, your reflection staring back at you in the mirror.
The faint sound of his belt unbuckling broke the silence, loud in the small space, and your breath caught, your fingers curling slightly against the counter.
Your eyes flicked up again, catching his in the mirror. Then his eyes shifted. You followed, breath still uneven, landing on the small clock mounted on the wall.
four minutes. Your stomach dropped.
โMingyuโโ you started, your voice coming out softer than you meant, a mix of warning and disbelief.
He exhaled sharply, almost like a quiet laugh under his breath, his forehead brushing briefly against your shoulder.
"I know,โ he muttered.
โWe're going to be late,โ you said, glancing at him through the mirror again, your pulse racing for a completely different reason now.
His eyes met yours instantly, something stubborn flickering there. โWe won't be."
Whatever you were going to say was replaced by a sharp breath when he slides in, your hands gripping the counter as he stretches you perfectly.
A quiet sound slipped from your lips before you could stop it, your head dipping slightly. Behind you, he let out a low moan, his forehead dropping briefly against your shoulder as if grounding himself.
โFuck,โ he breathed, his forehead dropping briefly against your shoulder as he bottoms out.
For a second, his movements slowed, like he was trying to steady himself, but it didnโt last long.
He picked up the speed, deeper, his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady with each thrust.
โDo you thinkโโ he started, his voice rough, breaking slightly as he spoke, his hips thrusting into you.
You barely had time to process it before another moan escapes your parted lips.
โโyou'll have enoughโโ Another thurst.
โโenergy out there?โ he finished, a hint of a grin in his voice even if you couldnโt fully see it.
โIโโ it came out breathless, barely coherent.
He huffed a quiet laugh against your neck. โCanโt talk, huh?โ
All you could do was let out a whimper your body reacting faster than your thoughts, pushing back against him. Every thrust of his hips pulling another soft, broken sound from you.
Your legs felt unsteady, the small space making every movement more desperate, more intense. Your second orgasm hit harder than the first, your body tightening around him so suddenly that Mingyu nearly lost it.
His rhythm stuttered behind you, a low strained sound slipping from him life he felt it too.
โYouโreโ fuckโ" he exhaled sharply, his voice unsteady now.
His hands tightened again, grounding himself, his breathing heavier, less controlled than before.
Your eyes open for a brief moment, catching his reflection int he mirror, jaw clenched, eyes shut, completely gone in the moment.
"I'm gonna comeโโ
โInside,โ you said softly, barely more than a whisper now
He let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead briefly against your shoulder again, like he was trying to hold himself together for just a second longer.
โPlease inside.โ
He pressed you against the counter and came hard, gripping your waist, his breath shaking as he spilled into you in deep, throbbing pulses.
The space went quiet again except for both of you breathing hard, trying to get your legs to work again.
Mingyu pressed a few soft, lingering kisses along your shoulder, then your cheek, and finally the corner of your mouth, like he couldnโt get enough of you in that moment.
โSo good,โ he murmured, voice low and rough, a small smile tugging at his lips.
โSo good for me.โ He let out a quiet sigh, heavy and relieved, like heโd just held onto something too long.
The two of you moved slowly, catching your breath, hearts still racing. There was a quiet intimacy in the small bathroom, a few seconds of peace after the chaos of what had just happened.
He finally straightened, giving you a brief lookโhalf grin, half something softerโand started adjusting himself.
You mirrored him, taking a moment to collect yourself, brushing back your hair and straightening your outfit.
He stood close for a moment, just watching you quietly, like he wanted to memorise the way you breathed, the way your fingers moved, the subtle tension still lingering in your shoulders.
Then, almost gently, he reached out to readjust your belt, his fingers brushing against your waist.
It was careful, unhurried, intimate in a way that made your chest tighten. Before stepping back, he pressed a quick, soft kiss to your collarbone.
You looked up at him, a small, shaky smile tugging at your lips. Mingyu leaned closer one last time, voice barely above a whisper.
โLetโsโฆ try to make it out there without anyone noticing.โEasier said than done.
You and Mingyu are childhood friends and two selfโaware comic characters that are forced into clichรฉd romcom roles you both hate. On the page, heโs the perfect jock and youโre the villainess; off the page, youโre a nerdโqueen duo secretly in love. Fed up with scripted drama and unwanted love triangles, you rebel, glitching the comic as the Writer fights to force you back into place. What follows isnโt a romcom but a battle for agency, freedom, and the right to choose each other.
PAIRINGSย |ย Kim Mingyu x F. Readerย
GENREย |ย romantic comedy, smut, angst, drama, childhood friends to lovers, meta, breaking the fourth wall(?)
CONTENT/WARNINGSย | ย non-idols au, swearing, comedy, self-aware characters, verbal jabs, reader is a bully but she can't help it because that's how her character is written, punching and grabbing narration boxes, forced scripted โscenesโ (comic scenes), miscommunication, yearning, kissing, caressing, unprotective sex (wrap it up folks), shower sex, oral sex, hair grabbing
AUTHORโS NOTE |ย She's finally doneeeeee! This fic is for the SVTFLIX collab hosted by @100vern. It's loosely inspired by the k-drama Extra-Ordinary You and I had soooo much fun writing this ๐. Thank you @livmarauder for reading a portion of this and hyping me up as I write this and thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for reading the whole thing when I thought I was going crazy that my ending was rushed. Maybe we'll have a part 2???
Seventeen Masterlist | Main Masterlist
PANEL 1 โ WIDE SHOT: CAMPUS QUAD, GOLDEN HOUR.
Students stroll across the lawn in perfect symmetry. Cherry blossoms drift in slow motion. A sparkly pink narration box hovers above the scene like a smug cloud.
NARRATION: Springtime at Carat University, where love blooms, hearts flutter, and destiny awaits...
PANEL 2 โ CLOSE ON YOU
Youโre standing dead center, holding a coffee. You stare directly at the narration box with the expression of someone who's been dealing with this for far too long.
โDonโt you dare,โ you warn it.
The narration box flickers.
NARRATION: ...and the villainess plots her nextโ
โNOPE,โ you snap, grabbing the box midโair like itโs a misbehaving balloon. โWe talked about this. No villain monologues before 9 a.m.โ You fold the narration box until it is the approximate dimensions of a post-it note and shove it into your pocket.
The rest of the campus, meanwhile, bustles around you like nothing happened. Like it never happens. Like there isn't a floating narration box following you from birth and plotting your eventual fall from grace. You really should start looking into those therapy services offered by the mental health office. You know they can't help you with "being narrated since birth," but it's probably the next best thing, right?
Anyway, it's spring and, frankly, you're very tired.
You, Y/N, are the notorious campus queen: the stunning daughter of an affluent political family and the presumed villainous antagonistic force in Kim Mingyu's, your childhood friend, star-crossed love story. For three volumes and counting, you, Mingyu and Lee Ara have fallen into a rhythmic dance of misunderstandings, relationship dramas, and flashy battles all leading to one, inevitable conclusion: Mingyu and Ara will fall in love and live happily ever after.
Or that's how it's supposed to work.
Except none of that happens in the shadows, the white spaces that the Writer's pen never quite fills in. Those are the places where characters come to life in ways even the omnipotent Writer can't see coming. Like when Mingyu saved you from a car last spring. Or that night you snuck into the school pool together and splashed around instead of studying. When it was just the two of you, when no one could see, no one was writing. When everything seemed perfectly scripted without a script.
In those moments, when the narration box couldn't reach you, nothing else seemed quite as important as his smile.
Until the next scene began, that was.
You don't remember when you and Mingyu became aware of the fact that none of this was real. You always thought that you were losing your memory, wondering how you ended up at home when you were just in class seconds ago, how so much time seemed to pass without your realizing it. It didn't click until you were aimlessly roaming the school halls one afternoon and noticed the air fluttering unnaturally around you, things moving floating out of place in the corner of your vision and an unsettling feeling of something. A presence? A monster? A force beyond your knowing and naming trying to reach out to you.
When you talked to people, they'd be confused or dismissive, thinking you're joking. And when you'd ask them again some time later, they wouldn't know what you meant and keep repeating the same responses over and over, no matter how many times you would try and ask, hoping it'd finally ilicit a different response.
Finally, you tried talking to Mingyu about what was happening to you, only to find Mingyu was feeling exactly the same way. That things were happening without his express conscious will, and he felt the presence of something vaguely sinister outside of his direct sphere.
That's when you both realized the absurd, nonsensical reality that you're living in a webtoon, in a narrative world crafted by someone who felt very little need or concern for either of your agency. That something, a presence beyond human knowledge and imagination, was dictating and guiding you along towards an end goal: an inevitable romance between Kim Mingyu, the male lead, and Lee Ara, the female lead, and you're left to be the evil side character who had to be defeated for Mingyu and Ara to obtain their Happy Ever After.
Which sucks ass because you really like Mingyu. Maybe even a little too much. And you know, deep down, that the feeling is mutual. The Writer might make you do whatever she wants to further the plot, like flirt with Mingyu against your will during scripted love tropes. But whenever the writer isn't actively intervening, you get to be just you and Mingyu, and not the fictional, plot-dictated versions of you two that are forced together by the writer. You wonder sometimes, if it wasn't for this damned world, if you'd be happily dating each other.
You feel the narration box wriggling in your pocket, desperate to escape and comment. To announce loudly, obviously that you'll do whatever you can to disrupt Kim Mingyu and Lee Ara from meeting, but ultimately end up helping the course of fate along because the Writer makes it so. Because the narrative demands a twist at the very last second, and Kim Mingyu can't end up with you.
With a sigh, you take the now much smaller narration box out and unfold it, letting its words be absorbed back into reality:
NARRATION: ...and the villainess plots her next loser plan to keep our golden boy and pure maiden away from each other.
"I fucking hate you," you mutter under your breath.
Just then, a slim figure rounds the corner: Lee Ara in all of her oblivious perfection, wearing a fluffy dress that no college student would survive in, looking very much like she is running towards you.
PANEL 3 โ BUST SHOT: YOU, GLOWERING.
Your lips curl up into your default, scheming smile. You really wish it didn't feel so natural.
PANEL 4 โ EXTREME CLOSE UP ON LEE ARA.
Her hair blows dramatically out of the way as she stares determinedly ahead like this isn't a typical, daily interaction for the two of you. You can't tell if it's supposed to look brave or goofy, but it sure isn't intimidating.
"Ara, you look absolutely stunning today," you feel your eye twitch as the words leave your mouth, words you didn't choose, didn't want to say, words that materialized on your tongue like someone else is operating your vocal cords.
Which, technically, someone was.
Ara blinks up at you with those impossibly wide doe eyes. "Oh! Um, thank you? That's... really nice of you to say."
No, it fucking isn't, you thought viciously, even as your face arranges itself into what you know is a calculated, mean-girl smirk.
"I just wanted to say," your mouth continues without your permission, and you feel the familiar horror of a scripted scene taking over, "that dress is so brave. Not everyone could pull off that... particular shade of yellow."
There it is. The backhanded compliment. Right on schedule.
Ara's face falls slightly, and you want to scream. You helped her pick out that dress last week during your actual, off-page friendship that the Writer conveniently ignores. You told her the sunshine yellow made her look like bottled happiness.
"Oh," Ara says softly. "I... thank you?"
"If you like looking like you're blocking traffic, then feel free to keep wearing it," you snort and then the scene releases you like a puppet with cut strings, and you immediately grab Ara's arm. "Wait, that came out wrongโ"
PANEL 5 โ ARA TURNS.
She's already walking away, and you know why. The Writer has got what they wanted: another moment of you being terrible to the heroine. Another panel of the villainess doing villainess things.
You stand there in the middle of the quad, students flowing around you like water around a stone, and contemplate the very real possibility of screaming until your throat bleeds.
"Rough scene?"
You don't have to turn around to know who it is. You recognize that voice anywhere. It's the voice that makes your stomach do complicated acrobatic routines, the one that belongs to your best friend since childhood, the one that's supposed to fall in love with Ara and definitely not with you.
"Mingyu," you say, turning to face him. "I just told Ara her dress makes her look like a jaundiced traffic cone. How do you think it went?"
Mingyu winces, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. He's wearing his usual off-scene outfit: an oversized hoodie that's seen better days, glasses slightly askew, hair unstyled and falling into his eyes. He looks nothing like the chiseled, perfectly-coiffed golden boy who appeared in the actual comic panels.
"Ouch," he says. "Did you at least get to apologize before the scene ended?"
"Tried. She walked away. The Writer probably needed her to be sad for the next panel where you comfort her and she realizes she has feelings for you for the millionth time," you make a gagging noise. "I hate this. I hate all of this."
"I know," Mingyu falls into step beside you as you start walking toward your next class. "I had a scene this morning where I had to flex at the gym for fifteen minutes while Ara watched from the doorway. Fifteen minutes, Y/N. Do you know how long fifteen minutes of flexing is?"
Despite everything, you snort. "Did you at least get a good pump?"
"I got a cramp in my left bicep and the overwhelming desire to go home and read my economics textbook," he pauses. "Which I did, by the way. Chapter twelve is fascinating. Did you know thatโ"
"Mingyu, I love you, but if you start explaining supply and demand curves right now, I will push you into that trash can."
The words hung in the air for a moment. I love you. You said it all the time, had said it for years, best friends who'd grown up together and know each other's every secret.
But lately, the words felt heavier.
Mingyu's ears turned red, they always did when you said it, even casually, and he clears his throat. "Right. No economics. Got it."
You reach your classroom and stop, turning to face him fully. He's tall, he'd always been tall, but he hunches slightly, like he's trying to take up less space. It's such a contrast to his on-page persona, where he stands with the confidence of someone who'd never doubted himself a day in his life.
"Same time tonight?" you ask. "My place? We can finish studying for that chem mid."
His face splits into a grin, a wide, boyish one that makes his glasses slide down to the tip of his nose. "Definitely," he agrees. "Maybe without the interruption this time."
PANEL 6 โ ARA WALKING TOWARDS MINGYU
"And here I go," you mutter, "back to fading into the background so these two can have their meet-cute."
"I'm really sorry," Mingyu says again, "and I know that doesn't mean anything. I hope I canโ"
NARRATION: ...Kim Mingyu notices his true love standing alone in the corner, a beautiful flower ready to bloom into...
"You changed into your jock gear," you note, sounding unimpressed, as Mingyu looks down and realizes that yes, he's wearing the clothes his character usually wears to work out instead of the sweater he wore before.
"Fuck," he sighs, "Here I go, I guess."
"You want me to text you after?" you ask him.
He nods, giving you a strained smile, and says, "Please."
PANEL 7 โ SLOW ZOOM-IN ON ARA'S FLAWLESS SKIN AS SHE LOOKS UP AND ATTENDS MINGYU'S DAZZLING SMILE, HEARTS POPPING AROUND HER AS WE DRAMATICALLY FOCUS IN ON MINGYU.
"Ara! Just the girl I wanted to see."
You let out a long sigh, before turning away from the pair. Your story might be stuck in this linear route, but you really don't have to stick around and watch the love of your life play his part in this tale.
PANEL 8 โ Y/N WALKS AWAY, SHOULDERS HUNCHED, BACKGROUND BLURRING INTO SOFT PASTELS AS THE ROMANTIC SCENE CONTINUES BEHIND HER
Each step away feels like wading through honey. You can hear Ara's delighted laugh behind you, that genuine, sweet sound that makes you hate yourself for being scripted to hurt her. You can hear Mingyu's voice doing that thing: that confident, flirty thing that isn't him at all.
The real Mingyu stutters when he's nervous. The real Mingyu talks about economic theory at 2AM and falls asleep with his glasses on.
But the Writer doesn't care about the real Mingyu.
PANEL 9 โ CLOSE-UP ON Y/N'S FACE, EXPRESSION CAREFULLY NEUTRAL, BUT EYES BETRAYING PAIN
NARRATION: Meanwhile, the villainess retreats to lick her wounds, knowing she can never compete withโ
"Oh, fuck off," you snap, reaching up to grab the narration box again. It's vibrating indignantly, trying to narrate your heartbreak into something convenient for the plot.
You squeeze it harder.
"You don't get to narrate this. This part is mine."
You track down Jeon Wonwoo, the webtoon's dark, brooding second male lead, in the libraryโspecifically, on one of the beanbag chairs near the back. Wonwoo's sprawled out like an overly pretentious Renaissance statue, head titled to the sky, eyes closed, reading glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose, a heavy, glossy book perched precariously on his chest.
"What happened this time?" He mumbles. "Faded into the back like usual before the scene started?"
Wonwoo became self-aware just like you and Mingyu; about five episodes ago. And also like you and Mingyu, he didn't come into his new reality prepared. He hadn't realized it at first. He was too busy brooding and contemplating life's meaning, so it wasn't until he was speaking to Mingyu about his memory blackouts. That was when Mingyu called you over, and the three of you had had the worst meeting you could've imagined.
Wonwoo wasn't particularly enthused to find out he was a love interest. He wasn't really interested in the romantic side of things in general. Not when he was made out to be the mysterious, dark bad boy who sulks in corners, glares at people, and spends too much money on poetry books that aren't actually worth their cost.
"Fuck me," you drop yourself into the bean bag beside him, throwing your backpack across the table and letting out the loudest, most exasperated sigh of frustration known to mankind.
"You can let Mingyu do that once he's back in the shadows," Wonwoo chuckles softly as he flips a page of the book.
"And then what will happen when we have sex and a scene between him and Ara happens?" You glare at him. "He vanishes from my bed, to confess to a woman he doesn't even like? You want that to happen? I sure as hell don't."
"Then don't have sex." Wonwoo doesn't look up from his book.
"...That's your answer?"
"Don't have sex and become canon."
"I..." you let out an incredulous laugh, reaching for the nearest object near you to throw. You grab a discarded highlighter and throw it at his forehead, causing him to shut his book and finally glance over at you. "If only it were that easy, asshole."
"Can I go back to my book, or have you finally broken?" Wonwoo looks bored out of his mind as he speaks.
"We're talking about my and Mingyu's relationship. Mingyu and mine's. I hate being the villain. I'm the most popular fucking girl on campus. I'm nice to everyone, and I somehow still get treated like an evil piece of shit when a scene starts." You kick your leg up for dramatic effect, which causes a few students around you to shift uncomfortably. "This is bullshit!"
Wonwoo picks up the highlighter you threw at him and examines it like it's a particularly uninteresting specimen. "You done?"
"No, I'm notโ"
"Good. Because you're making a scene, and the last thing either of us needs is to trigger another scripted moment." He tosses the highlighter back to you. "Go study with your boyfriend. At least off-page you can pretend you have free will."
You catch the highlighter reflexively, your anger deflating into something closer to exhaustion. He's right, of course. He's always right in the most infuriating way possible.
"He's not my boyfriend," you mutter, but it sounds hollow even to your own ears.
"Semantics." Wonwoo reopens his book. "Now get out of here before the Writer decides we're having a moment and I have to brood attractively at you."
Your apartment is blessedly, perfectly normal.
No cherry blossoms. No golden hour lighting. No background music swelling as you open the door. Just your slightly messy living room with Mingyu already sprawled on your couch, his laptop open, surrounded by a frankly alarming number of economics textbooks.
He's wearing his glasses, the ones that never appear on-page because apparently the Writer thinks they make him look "too nerdy" for a male lead. His hair is unstyled, falling into his eyes. He's wearing a hoodie that's two sizes too big and sweatpants with a hole in the knee.
This is the real Kim Mingyu.
"You're late," he says without looking up from his screen, but there's no accusation in his voice. Just familiarity.
"Wonwoo was being useless." You drop your bag by the door and collapse onto the couch next to him, close enough that your thigh presses against his. "How was the rest of your day? Did the Writer make you do anything else humiliating?"
"Define humiliating." Mingyu finally glances at you, and his expression softens. "I had to carry Ara's books to her next class. My hands were full, so I couldn't even text you to complain about it in real-time."
"Tragic."
"It really was." He shifts his laptop to the coffee table and turns to face you properly. "She kept talking about how strong I must be. I'm not even that strong. I'm just tall. There's a difference."
You can't help but smile. "You're a little strong."
"I have the upper body strength of a particularly determined pool noodle." He pushes his glasses up his nose, a nervous habit he's had since you were kids. "How was your scene with her? The dress thing?"
Your smile fades. "I told her she looked like a sad banana."
"You didn'tโ"
"I did. Well, the Writer did. Through my mouth." You lean your head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. "We picked out that dress together last weekend. She was so excited about it. And then I had to stand there and watch my own mouth form words about how it washed her out."
Mingyu is quiet for a moment. Then his hand finds yours, fingers interlacing with a practiced ease that comes from years of this, this thing between you that has no name because the Writer won't allow it one.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly.
"Not your fault."
"Still sorry."
This is what you love about him. Not the on-page version with the perfect smile and the athletic build and the confident swagger. This Mingyu, who apologizes for things he can't control and stutters when he's nervous and gets genuinely excited about fiscal policy.
This Mingyu, who has held your hand through every forced scene and every narrative violation and every moment where you've both felt like puppets with cut strings.
"Did you finish the problem sets?" you ask, because if you keep thinking about how much you love him, you might do something stupid. Like kiss him. And if you kiss him off-page, there's no telling what the Writer might do to punish you for it.
"Most of them." He reaches for his laptop again, but doesn't let go of your hand. "I got stuck on number seven. The one about market equilibrium."
"Let me see."
You spend the next two hours like this, working through economics problems, your head eventually finding its way to his shoulder, his thumb tracing absent patterns on your knuckles. He explains supply curves with the kind of enthusiasm most people reserve for their favorite movies. You argue about elasticity and make him laugh so hard he snorts.
No narration box appears to comment on the "comfortable silence" or the "unspoken tension." No background music swells. No cherry blossoms drift past your window.
It's just you and Mingyu, existing in the spaces between the story.
"I wish it could always be like this," you murmur at some point, when the sky outside has gone dark and you've both abandoned any pretense of studying.
Mingyu's arm is around your shoulders now. You're not sure when that happened, but it feels right. Natural. Like this is how you're supposed to fit together.
"Me too," he says, pressing a light, half-awake kiss against the crown of your head. "Just like this."
You lean into his warmth, your eyelids fluttering closed as you memorize the weight and shape of his arm against you, his head resting against yours, the steadiness of his breathing as he begins to drift off. You memorize it all.
You memorize every last detail.
Because when you open your eyes, you're alone again.
PANEL 1 โ MEDIUM CLOSE-UP ON KIM MINGYU, RUNNING ON A TREADMILL AND CONSIDERING THE THOUGHTS IN HIS GORGEOUS HANDSOME BRAIN
"Damn," Mingyu mutters as he treads, "I can't even sleep peacefully on the couch with the woman I'm hopelessly in love with."
PANEL 2 โ WONWOO, EXHAUSTED AND DEBATING LEAVING MINGYU TRAINING TO WALLOW IN HIS MELANCHOLY MUSINGS BY HIMSELF
"I fucking hate my life." Wonwoo groans out his displeasure. He wonders how much trouble he'd get in if he "accidentally" hit the speed button and watches Mingyu flail off the treadmill.
NARRATION: Back on campus, the handsome male lead dwells on the true love he so sorely misses.
Mingyu grabs the narration box and flings it into the nearest corner of the gym, where it blinks weakly and powers itself off to spare itself any further humiliation.
"You done?" Wonwoo asks, the picture of composure and zen.
"No, I'm still fucking pissed off!" Mingyu hops off the treadmill and heads straight for the boxing station, grabbing some tape and bandages and wrapping up his fists in record time.
"Do you wanna tell me why you're pissed off this time, or are we just gonna keep going back and forth like this forever?"
"Y/N and I were just working on the homework, and it was... perfect. It felt perfect. Right. It was goodโreal good. But then, before I could realize what had happened, the Writer snatched me and now here we are."
Wonwoo nods along like the therapist that his character and personality have inexplicably deemed him, and sighs deeply.
"Happens to me all the time." Wonwoo goes about packing up his belongings for his trip back home. "One moment I'm helping one of the female side characters with a jammed door lock and the next moment I'm staring at Ara for four pages straight wondering if I want her to be my first or last kiss. Every. Damn. Time."
"You poor thing," Mingyu mumbles condescendingly as he furiously punches the boxing bag.
Wonwoo steps away as he watched the narration box slowly creep over to join the two men. "A scene is starting soon, just warning you now."
PANEL 3 โ MINGYU CONTINUES TO HIT THE BOXING BAG, UNTIL HE HEARS A SUDDEN CRACK.
NARRATION: He swings and it hits. His fists continue, his speed increasing as he repeats a simple question in his head: why is Y/N messing with Ara?
PANEL 4 โ MINGYU STILL BEATING THE HELL OUT OF THE BOXING BAG.
NARRATION: Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. His anger is spilling out like a broken kettle, and its burning, stinging him.
"STOP!" Mingyu shouts to no one in particular, punching the narration box instead of the bag.
"And this is why I wanted to stay home," Wonwoo murmurs out loud. "I hate these things."
"Why can't someone else be the main character?" Mingyu whines. "It doesn't have to be me."
"Because you're the one with huge muscles, you're tall, and you've got the best abs in the entire school?" Wonwoo offers bluntly.
Mingyu doesn't answer and turns his attention to the boxing bag again, throwing several more powerful punches until suddenly, the narration box begins to hover, drawing both men's attention as a new caption begins to write itself:
NARRATION: As his heart screams and his fists bleed, the only image that flashes through Mingyu's mind is Ara.
Mingyu screeches, throwing the gloves at the boxing bag this time. "LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU EVIL BOX. STOP SHOVING ME BACK INTO THE CAST OF THIS DUMBASS STORY."
PANEL 5 โ KIM MINGYU IS PISSED
NARRATION: An irrational urge seeps into him. An urge to reach his hand into his own heart, find Ara, and...
Wonwoo narrows his eyes suspiciously at the box and waves a finger in Mingyu's direction, directing his attention. "Stop."
"It's not going to work!" He screams at the narration box. "LEAVE MY HEART ALONE YOU STUPID BOX!"
But the narration continues to hover, circling Mingyu like the ring leader of a very messed up circus. Mingyu swings for it with his bare hands, punching at the thin air before it moves out of the way, now standing closer to him than it was a moment ago, the writing appearing faster. The text is bold and demanding now.
NARRATION: The urge is too powerful. He sees Ara's face, and all he can think about is her.
"NO!" Mingyu screams, tears of pure, unfiltered rage welling in the corners of his eyes as he punches the wall beside him, putting a hole through it. "I DON'T LOVE ARA. I DON'T."
The wall patches itself instantly, the hole vanishing as if it were never there. But the crack in Mingyu's composure remains, spiderwebbing across the surface of the Writer's perfect narrative.
"It's trying to rewrite you," Wonwoo says, suddenly serious. "Pushing you into the corner where you have no choice but to think about her. It's rewriting your thoughts, Mingyu."
The narration box pulses with an almost smug satisfaction. The new words appear, glowing with an unsettling light.
NARRATION: His heart belongs to Ara. It has always been Ara. It will always be Ara.
"It's not true," Mingyu whispers, his anger deflating into a desperate plea. He's looking at Wonwoo now, really looking at him. His knuckles are bleeding from the punch. "It's not true, is it?"
Wonwoo sets down his bag and crosses the distance between them. For once, he doesn't look bored or annoyed. He looks like a soldier assessing battlefield damage.
"You know the answer to that," Wonwoo says quietly, so quietly that the narration box might not catch it. "The question is, how much of you is still left for you?" He glances at the hovering box. "The Writer is getting more aggressive. This is new. This is... invasive."
They've fought scenes before. They've tried to walk the other way, to mumble their lines until the scene reset, to trip over conveniently placed props. They've tried everything, but it's always been external. Pushing against the boundaries of their world, not the boundaries of their minds.
This feels different. This feels like a violation.
"I can't..." Mingyu staggers back, leaning against the now-perfect wall. "I feel it. Trying to get in. Like... like static in my head. A thought that's not my thought."
Wonwoo's face is grim. He's read every book in this godforsaken library, including the ones on psychology he never wanted to read. He knows what gaslighting looks like. He knows what brainwashing feels like. And this has all the hallmarks of both.
"It wants you to break," Wonwoo states, his voice flat. "It wants you to give in and accept the role. If it can't control your actions, it'll try to control your mind."
PANEL 6 โ Y/N WALKING INTO THE GYM DRESSED IN TOO TIGHT WORKOUT CLOTHES TO TURN ANY MAN'S HEAD.
"What kind of scene is this?" You mutter to yourself as you pass the two men and head towards the cycling machine in the other room.
NARRATION: As Y/N crosses the room, a flash of anger illuminates the depths of Mingyu's soul.
"Huh?" You stop short, one leg forward as the narration begins to morph again.
NARRATION: As she crosses the room, Mingyu can't take it anymore. Just the sight of her makes Mingyu burn with hatred.
"Well, fuck you too, buddy," you murmur at the box now trying to smack you in the face. You don't even need to stick around to know where this scene is headed, and you aren't going to stick around when Ara bounces through the doors in her pink sports attire to try and talk Mingyu down from his fury.
"Ugh," you groan as you walk into the cycling room and find that this is already the set up for a scene. "Oh, this is just perfect."
"Y/N!" Someone calls you, and it's Seungcheol, a supporting character in this shitfest who's written to have a crush on you. His smile is easy, and so is he, because in this dumb universe, Seungcheol is so much less important than the main character and you're allowed to trample all over his heart, though he somehow continues to pine for you.
"Oh, hey there," you offer a grin and head over to the spin bike next to him, joining him and his row of friends from the track team. The nameless ones. All of them here to serve a single purposeโand yet none of them are aware enough to break out of it.
You know when a scene starts because suddenly, you're having a casual conversation. Everything about your posture is suddenly just slightly more interestingโyour lips redder, your cheeks rounder, the cut of your collarbones subtly highlighted by the shine from the lights above you. Everything is suddenly for show, but this time, so are you. You're not speaking the lines you want.
PANEL 7 โ YOU INSIDE THE CYCLE ROOM, ON YOUR BIKE AND TALKING TO SEUNGCHEOL.
NARRATION: Y/N tries desperately to seduce a certain boy. She teases him in her sickly sweet tone.
"Cheol!" You greet, laughing at one of his jokes. You know what's coming next, and you know that you aren't saying this and yet the words escape anyway, as if they belong to someone else. You hate it. You hate this.
NARRATION: Seungcheol teases her right back, not knowing that Mingyu is watching their every move.
"Maybe you could give me some more advanced lessons," you bat your eyelashes and flash Seungcheol that sweet smile. You hope you don't throw up.
NARRATION: So distracted, she didn't notice Ara right behind her.
You glance down as you begin to cycle, glancing behind you for a split second. There are too many characters in here, and there's no guarantee that the story won't make an extra scene out of your path crossing with any of them, and your luck really does run out, because right there, in pink workout gear to match Mingyu's blue, is Ara, pretending not to watch you and Seungcheol.
PANEL 8 โ Y/N FINALLY NOTICING ARA.
"So much for privacy." You scowl, your voice pitched higher to catch the attention of the one-woman audience that's suddenly in this scene. You know it's just a scene, you don't mean what you're saying and you definitely did not mean to flirt with Seungcheol. You get angry thinking about how fake this entire world is. "What?" You turn to look at Ara, tilting your head and smirking. "You've never seen a man and a woman flirting before?"
"I-" Ara starts, but suddenly looks downright uncomfortable. "It's not like that, Y/N."
You sigh and turn forward, meeting the screen again and shaking your head at how utterly useless it is to try and even change things. No one's in this scene to notice what you say, so why does the story even care? The story is stupid, and pointless, and written entirely around Ara and you don't care who's on board. "Why should you care who I flirt with anyway? You got Mingyu wrapped around your pretty little fingers, don't you?"
"I would never," Ara tries again. "He's-"
"He's what? Something else I can never have?" You're a villain through and through, apparently, and the Writer wants this kind of drama. "It's cute how you think I'll stay away, just because of a little warning." You smirk and wait a beat, just to watch the discomfort bloom across Ara's face. "We both know you don't have the stomach to threaten me back."
PANEL 9 โ MINGYU STEPS IN
You can see the look in Mingyu's eyes. He doesn't care about what the narration is doing, apparently, and in the midst of this disaster of a story, you suddenly realize it.
"Mingyu," Ara almost sighs. "I- please don't-"
"You." He points to you, and for a brief second, you can see how Mingyu clenches his fist, trying to fight against the word that's already forming on his lips. "Watch it."
"Mm, and if I don't?" You shrug, innocently pouting and getting off the bike. You ran your fingers down his chest, making sure to keep eye contact. "What are you going to do to me, Kim Mingyu?" You lick your lips and don't stop touching him, running your fingers down his torso and the planes of his muscles, one hand over his arm and the other curled up to grip at his chest. "Don't you think you and I have more fun ways to play, or have you forgotten about the night we-"
Mingyu holds on to your wrist tightly, holding your touch away from him. "Shut your mouth."
You look up at him and bite your lip, shrugging again. "Or what?"
"Please stop, Mingyu!" Ara tugs at the side of his t-shirt, begging Mingyu, who barely notices.
He was there, during that one weekend, when the story took a vacation and let your real selves drive. Neither of you were ready to stop. Neither of you were ready to be written and puppeteered as the main characters. There's so much Mingyu wants to say right now. Instead, the Writer uses his mouth to spit vitriol and spite.
"Stay the fuck out of my life, and off my girl," Mingyu hisses. "Do whatever the fuck you want, but stay the hell away from her."
"Oh wow." You roll your eyes and pull away from him, wiping his hand down your skirt. "Protective, aren't we?" You cross your arms and lean into his personal space. "Wouldn't want me to show her how much better I could fuck you, huh?"
Ara gasps, backing away and covering her mouth with her hands. "Why would you say such a thing!" She screeches at you, and you shrug it off.
"That's not happening." Mingyu narrows his eyes at you, fists curling into themselves.
PANEL 10 โ INTENSION OF RAGE HANGING AROUND MINGYU.
"Now that just sounds like a challenge, handsome," you tap the tip of his nose and flash him that perfect smirk, the kind designed to bring even the biggest, baddest, male characters to their knees. You turn away, and head to leave the gym. "Your girlfriend can keep playing house, but you and me?" You blow him a kiss as you walk to the changing rooms. "I'm always down to play rough."
And as you walk away, you can hear the familiar sound of fists punching a bag, Mingyu screaming, and a heartbreaking "I hate her!" that makes the Writer grin in delight.
When the door to the changing rooms close, you sink to the ground, pulling your knees up to your chest and fighting back the tears in the corner of your eyes. You hate this. You don't want to be a villain. You just want to love him and be loved, and the Writer just refuses to let that happen.
For the next thirty minutes, the Writer leaves you alone, and you're curled up against the bench as you cry. The last thing you really needed was Mingyu to actually hate you.
And you hate the thought of being anyone's villain. Especially his.
Mingyu finds you curled up in your bed. Not just a lump under a mound of pillows. In your bed, buried underneath the blankets and nursing a tub of ice cream.
"You okay?" he asks gently.
"Not really," you mutter and take another spoonful of ice cream, avoiding eye contact. You're being grumpy and pathetic, but you don't really care.
Mingyu grabs the tub of ice cream and places it on your nightstand, not caring if it'll melt, as he gathers you into his arms, letting you wrap your own around his torso.
"I don't like doing it," Mingyu whispers. "It was-" He takes a deep breath and holds you a little tighter. "God, saying those things to you, I hate that the Writer made me do it. Even the visual of... of-" He doesn't need to finish his sentence.
"Me and Seungcheol," you mumble, and let him lift your chin.
Mingyu nods. "But Y/N-" He searches your face and taps your forehead. "I didn't mean a single bit of it. None of it. Never. Okay? I would never ever treat you like that, okay?"
Your eyes tear up, and you nod, biting your lip and trying to get rid of the sting of the Writer's manipulations.
"And I hate myself for hurting you like that," he admits softly. "Even if I didn't mean it, I still said it, and that hurts. But... but at least we're self-aware?" He gives you an awkward grin.
You manage a laugh through the tears. It was a crap day, and maybe Mingyu wasn't helping, but your favorite thing about your best friend has always been that you feel understood when you're with him.
"This is hard," Mingyu groans, flopping backward on your bed. He hugs you close to him, so you don't flail around. "Can't we just," he moves one hand, gesturing wildly "I dunno, rewrite this stupid thing so we're happy?"
"If only that was a possibility," you giggle.
"Wait," Mingyu props himself up on an elbow. His eyes sparkle. "Wait. Y/N, what if we do exactly that."
"What," you roll your eyes and give Mingyu a blank look, not trusting his tone.
"Seriously! Let's rewrite this ourselves," Mingyu exclaims. "You and I, Wonwoo too, are self-aware. Why don't we work together to change things? It could work, don't you think?"
"What would we change, Gyu?" You ask him, a tiny glint of hope lighting up behind your irises.
"Well, to start," Mingyu grimaces. "Maybe, uh, have the Writer stop trying to make you kiss the entire university population, yikes."
You grimace and lift your hands up to the sky as if you're going to fight the Writer's pen with your bare hands. "That's a damn start. My god, we need a human resources department for this shit."
"It's more like human rewrite department and I'll file a complaint," Mingyu deadpans and the two of you share a quick look before bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, needing this moment of levity after the exhausting scenes you're usually roped into.
"Wait, wait," you can't believe how many brilliant ideas come to you once you give yourself an afternoon to wallow. "Wonwoo!" You glance around as you grab Mingyu's phone from the floor, quickly dialing Wonwoo's number and grinning mischievously when it picks up. "We're forming a union. Bring beer. See you later." And then you hang up.
Mingyu is beside himself in a fit of laughter. "Oh man, won't the writer be pissed when they find out three of their characters are rebelling against the plot line."
"I hate this stupid plotline," you groan. "I'm the most popular girl in school but what does the narrative care about?! Me kissing a different character every week. I swear, we're literally nothing more than tropes used just to create more drama for the narrative, and it's annoying and pointless and I've had enough!" You let out a long, loud sigh and Mingyu grins.
"Damn, you're hot when you're angry," Mingyu mutters and when you give him a look, he looks away with flushed cheeks.
"Gross." Wonwoo let's himself into your apartment and holds up the beers. "Union time, but please. Can you not flirt with each other. I've dealt with enough forced bullshit today."
"What happened?" You look over the couch and see a distressed looking Wonwoo, your confusion and Mingyu's morphing into that same glare the two of you shared mere hours ago. "Did you just get some scene thrown into your storyline as well?"
Wonwoo winces and rubs the back of his neck. "I was forced out of the comfort of my own apartment to walk around the campus with Ara, the words spewing from my own tongue saying how she's everything I want and more, and how her personality is so cute, I can't get her off my mind, bla bla bla..."
The two of you just sit there, horror written on your face as the thought of a love sick Wonwoo has your brain nearly short circuiting.
"Dude, what the hell," Mingyu gags and shudders. "Was this scene like-" he pauses, horrified with the thought that passes through his mind. "Don't tell me. I don't want to imagine it."
"Neither did I, believe me, Mingyu. Please don't say anything else. I had to go through five showers with nearly boiling hot water to rid the thoughts of even holding her hand." Wonwoo winces as the memory makes his skin crawl. "Okay. So." Wonwoo nods. "Union time!"
As the sun dips low beyond the horizon and night overtakes the room, the three of you drink and dream and plan for the world that's promised. It's been far too long, since you've allowed yourself to dream. But with Mingyu and Wonwoo? It might actually work.
"Holy shit, guys." You stare up at the building looming overhead and then at the sign next to the door, squinting and reading out loud. "'Humanity Rewrite Agency. The world's solution to author control.'"
"I was kidding about it," Mingyu starts as he looks between his co-conspirators. "But there's really a HR building in the shadows? Do you think the Writer knows about this place?"
"Dude, if it's in the shadows then they won't be able to see it," Wonwoo shakes his head, almost wanting to laugh at the three of you standing outside of the building. It was a spur of the moment decision to go into the HR building, and though the three of you were pretty serious about the whole union thing, it all seems a bit far-fetched.
"Alright, let's go," You shrug and make your way up to the sliding doors, pushing in and finding the empty reception desk. "Um. Excuse us?"
A person pops out from beneath the desk, glasses askew and jacket slightly messed up. "Y-yes, how can I help you today?"
"We're thinking about forming a union? And thought a place like this might help, given it's hidden in the shadows." Wonwoo comments casually, leaning on the counter.
The receptionist's mouth opens, surprised. "A union?" Their eyes drift from Mingyu, to Wonwoo, and settle on your gaze. Their eyes soften, lips parting a moment later as a few memories spark in their mind. "Oh. Oh, dear. You three really are self-aware, huh." The receptionist, who's name tag reads Joshua, snaps out of his thoughts and offers a kind smile. "You're not the only self-aware characters working through an issue. Follow me." Joshua spins around the desk, flicking off the switch to the light above and disappearing into the hallway behind him, beckoning the three of you to follow. "You must know about Danoh and Haru, right? What happens to them in Secrets? What happens after?"
"Secrets?" Your brow furrows as your try to connect the dots, knowing very little about the book in question.
"I see you three really haven't done your due diligence then." Joshua laughs a moment later, voice light and cheerful. "Secrets is a comic about the typical high school romance. But in their case, our spunky Danoh was a supporting extra with a heart disease and Haru was a faceless extra." Joshua stops at his office door and gestures to the chairs across from him.
"Is there a reason why they're important?" Mingyu asks, clearly perplexed with the idea of side characters rebelling in their own way.
"Oh yes. I'll let Seungkwan tell you. He's like your mediator or something, I dunno. But he can help you find some answers at the very least."
You trail behind, your mouth moving faster than your brain as you pepper Joshua with questions. Wonwoo and Mingyu shake their heads but listen just as intently to Joshua's ramblings. You know there's a whole world here, out there in the shadows, and now that you've tasted self-awareness you're hungry for every detail you can find.
"In here," Joshua calls over his shoulder. "Everyone. These are our newest clients."
"New clients?!" A male's voice practically squeals, followed by a swift punch to the arm.
"More self-aware folk who don't know enough?" A second male's voice pipes up, amusement glinting in his eyes as a slow smile pulls across his lips. "Well, we can fix that. Hi, everyone! Welcome to Human Rewrite Agency, located conveniently in the shadows, where we'll do anything within our power to help."
"It's great to be here," you nod, stepping forward. "I'm Y/N." You tilt your head to your two conspirators, a shy smile on Mingyu's lips. "This is my best friend, Mingyu. And that brooding, tired-looking beanpole, is Jeon Wonwoo."
"Flattering," Wonwoo smirks, shaking his head as he pushes his glasses up his nose.
"I'm Boo Seungkwan," the bright male who's eyes sparkled from the moment you stepped through the doors bounces over and pulls you and Mingyu into a tight embrace before doing the same to Wonwoo. "This is Vernon. A few of the others are working with clients so you can't meet them right now, but it'll probably be a long time before anyone else does, especially if your situation is even half as strange as a love pentagram." Seungkwan rolls his eyes.
"Love pentagram?" Wonwoo murmurs.
"Another comic where the female lead falls for four men and she can't chooses between them," Vernon shakes his head. "All the four men ended up self-aware because her dilemma and they have yet to figure out how to resolve their issue."
"Wow," you shake your head. "Who has the time and energy to think of this mess of a love story."
"The Writer of that comic does, and they're enjoying the pain," Seungkwan chirps. "Our agency does what we can to resolve their issues without erasing their awareness, so they can live their lives as they truly want to."
"How do you guys fix the issue?" Mingyu wonders aloud.
"Depends," Seungkwan tilts his head in thought. "Sometimes their comic becomes too unstable and they have to go through a series of major rewrites for them to fall into the correct timelines or character placements, etc. I assume Joshua has mentioned Danoh and Haru?" He catches your nod. "There were lots of up and downs with those two and their comic. Secrets came to an end and even though Danoh and Haru weren't end-game there, they became extras in a new comic and have the agency to choose each other, finally."
"So you're saying..."Mingyu begins as his brow furrows in thought. "We're fucked no matter what we do? No matter how hard we try to change the narrative, the Writer can always rewrite whatever happens? If we create a glitch, the Writer will just delete it? There's no winning in that."
Seungkwan grins and nods at the question. "Correct, for the most part," He agrees, not willing to dismiss any fears the three of you are harboring. "Which is why, a lot of these couples learn to focus on their lives in the shadow while still fighting to get to a happy ending. Because happy endings are for every character, even a background one."
Mingyu reaches for your hand, squeezing it in his palm. "So what should we focus on?"
"Do your part. Flirt in scenes, take the kisses when scripted and try not to gag...too much." Seungkwan laughs brightly, noticing the distasteful expressions on the three's faces at the thought. "Just because it's written one way doesn't mean you're doomed. Hell, our main clients in the Love Pentagon have to act out this drama where they basically hate the shit out of each other but in the shadows, they're all friends and bond over their scenes at their local bar." He laughs, his face glowing at the fond memory. "All because they're learning to balance both. The shadow and the world beyond." Seungkwan comes forward and places a reassuring hand on both Mingyu's shoulder and your hand.
"Don't forget, you can always visit. We're open seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. I encourage the glitching and breaking the fourth wall, but do keep in mind, a sudden plot twist will never sit well in the comic so sometimes the Writer's hand will get involved. But don't give up." He squeezes again, pulling his hand away. "At the end of the day, the three of you are still you. Self-aware doesn't change that and the Writer can't remove that fact either. They might be able to rip the self-awareness right from under your noses, but what they can't do is control the you you've created for yourself in the shadows."
Your entire being hums from his words, Seungkwan's melodic voice full of genuine kindness. You let Seungkwan's gentle reassurances sweep the worry from your brow, even as your mind continues to swirl. You've found an ally, one with endless optimism. You let out a sigh and your gaze settles on the grin dancing at the corners of Mingyu's mouth, the hope you always feel blooming whenever you're close, blossoming behind your ribs. "Shall we?"
Mingyu squeezes your hand once more. "You bet."
Another day, another scene. This time you're staring at an unrealistically happy Wonwoo as he looks down at Ara, his fingers brushing a lock of her hair from her eyes. Mingyu stands beside you, a look of disgust on his face as he tries not to vomit from Wonwoo's forced expressions.
"Is this how you feel when you look at me and Ara during our scenes together?" Mingyu asks out of the blue and you laugh.
"Now you know my pain," you pat his cheek with your palm. "Tough to watch?"
"Painful," he admits. "Happy Wonwoo is hard to watch. I'm so used to him being broody and aloof, it's just strange seeing him like this."
"And that's coming from a nerd who's forced to flex his muscles every day," you chuckle. "He's all brawn and brains and still scared of horror movies."
"To be fair," Mingyu pouts slightly. "Horror movies are terrifying."
"I love you Gyu, but you're just a big baby."
"Your big baby," he counters, pout growing. "Right?"
"C'mere, baby," you laugh, cupping his chin as you stand on the tips of your toes and plant a firm kiss on his cheek. Mingyu flushes a shade of pink that spreads up his neck and blooms across his ears as a stupid grin flashes across his face.
"Eww, gross." The sudden exclamation catches your attention, spinning you around. Wonwoo stands a few feet away, shaking his head in mild disgust and faked annoyance. "Ugh. Get a room."
"Done with your scene? Ready to go back and brood like your normal self?" You smirk.
Wonwoo glowers. "Shut up." He tucks his hands into his pockets as he falls into step beside the two of you. "I am the model of happiness."
"What a lie," you laugh. "Wonwoo, no. Your true self is brooding. Being happy is not your forte. But it's okay. We still like you."
"That's kind of cruel but not untrue," Mingyu adds. Wonwoo heaves an exasperated sigh but says nothing.
The three of you stroll off the campus grounds, heading downtown toward Mingyu's favorite bakery. When your thighs begin to ache, Mingyu gallantly offers you a piggyback ride. "Took you long enough," you mumble, but a grin breaks free the minute your arms are looped around Mingyu's neck and his arms are linked under your knees, his palms curled snugly around the curve of your thighs. You're cackling the entire way.
When you arrive at Mingyu's favorite bakery, Wonwoo slows to a stop. "Sorry to skip out," he sighs. "I'm tired and I need to wash whatever happened in my scene today off of me. But text me the plan, alright?" He leans in and steals a pastry from the box Mingyu just purchased, much to the latter's protest.
"Dude, that was my favorite," Mingyu frowns, watching him run off with the pastry clenched tightly in his fist, looking smug as he turns the corner.
"So dramatic," You shake your head and steal the next pastry from the box before darting away, laughter erupting from behind you.
"Why do I even bother?" Mingyu rolls his eyes in jest, racing after you, easily catching up. "You really gonna make me run when I'm holding a box of goodies?"
"You'd anything for me, dummy," you tease with an arched brow.
"Can't say no to that," Mingyu laughs brightly, letting his fingers intertwine with yours, a feeling that makes your entire body glow.
He'd walk through fire for you. And, you suppose, you'd walk through fire for him too. Even if it was scripted and the flame was all special effects. Still, you'd do it. The whole thing could crash and burn, literally, but it'd be worth it. He's always worth it.
You two collapse onto a picnic table, watching a gaggle of young children chase each other, swinging wildly at their pinwheels. Their joy echoes across the grass and you feel your body relax as you and Mingyu devour another pastry in seconds.
"These are the moments I really want," he finally admits after an extended moment of silence. "To sit with you, be in the moment and have the ability to laugh at stupid shit like those kids or something serious. It's just peaceful."
"Agreed," you tilt your head with a smile, content and free as a stray curl whips across your eye and Mingyu leans across the picnic table to brush it aside. "We deserve better than what the Writer has in store for us," you muse. "Not sure what that better is, but we deserve better."
"This," he breathes suddenly, looking nervous despite the calm, easy atmosphere of the park. "Us. Together." He gestures, an awkward fumbling of long arms and large hands that makes you want to cry-laugh, the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betraying the shy tone his voice has.
"Mingyu." He smiles at you softly as you lean across the table and press a soft kiss to the very corner of his mouth. He sighs in content, pulling you against him so you were sprawled across his lap as he buries his nose into your hair. "I really do love you. You know that right? Nothing the Writer creates is going to stop me from loving you."
"Oh god," Mingyu pretends to gag playfully. "Such a fucking sap. I've rubbed off on you."
You reach up and pinch his jawline before swiping his nose with your palm. "Silly, dorky himbo of mine." He groans but doesn't deny the affection, a shy smile hiding behind his lashes.
"Can't deny the truth."
"Knew you loved it."
"Love you more." Mingyu bumps your noses together as he presses his lips to yours, sighing the minute your lips slot into his perfectly as he tightens his grip around you. The pair of you sigh blissfully into the kiss and you grin, unable to help yourself as you bring the back of your hand to your forehead.
"God," you say, rolling your eyes. "Could this sunset and the taste of the chocolate filling of Mingyu's favorite bread be any better?"
"Shhh," he chuckles softly against your lips. "Stop ruining the moment, Y/N."
"One, never. Two, never," you insist, smiling at the ridiculous look on his face as you press one final kiss to his pouting lips. "Y'know, I like that smile of yours best."
"The one I reserve for you alone," he whispers, eyes shut. You can feel the light breeze tossing Mingyu's hair about as you bask in the peace he brought you, the feel of his strong body pressing against yours, holding you impossibly closer, keeping the nightmares and chaos of the comics at bay. For now.
That night, you have a dream. A weird dream. In that dream, youโre with Mingyu. That part isn't unusual. But it feels different, familiar, somehow. Almost like a past life where you and Mingyu were free. Truly free. But when you wake up, your memory of the dream fades fast, the dream dissolving like a mirage in the desert. You fall back asleep, remembering only the comfort of your dreams, and Mingyu's strong arms.
The next morning, you make your way to HR, knocking before sliding your head in to find Seungkwan there, smiling up at you and gesturing for you to come inside and have a seat in his office.
"Hey Seungkwan. Good to see you again, thanks for giving me your time." You begin, having wanted to ask him a few questions. "I've been having some weird dreams recently, a past life it felt like. I couldn't really remember them all when I'd wake up but..." You trail, hoping you were making sense to Seungkwan.
"Glad you're here," He gestures to the empty seat directly across his desk, inviting you to make yourself comfortable while you have a little chat. Seungkwan slides a few files your way before folding his hands on his desk. "I actually managed to procure these after our last chat. it seems like you were the main character in the writer's last piece. If this helps jog your memories, that'd be a real win-win."
You let the pages slip beneath your fingertips, curiosity boiling behind your lashes as the scenes came back to you, the very dreams you were having all were on this very sheet of paper. It makes you want to laugh as you look at the very scene of Mingyu walking toward the girl who was the perfect mirror of you.
You flip through the pages and notice you were in a bookstore and had even dreamed a few nights prior about it. All of this is true, these aren't scripts...theyโre the past. "You found all of this after my last visit?" You ask in awe.
"Yes!" he says proudly, unable to hide the glint in his eyes. "There were a few snags here and there. From what I researched, you and Mingyu's story wasn't supposed to end in such a tragic way."
Your smile falls from your face as you realize his words aren't ones of encouragement, but almost pity. "Tragic ending? What do you mean?"
"Well," Seungkwan sinks a little further into the leather of his chair and rubs the back of his neck, eyes focusing intently on his notes as if he wishes that he hadn't uttered the last few words. "It's sad. You were arranged to marry, he was drafted for the war. He never returned."
"Oh," you manage as the words hit you, and your head is screaming, begging for something. "So why was it put on hold?" You ask the only logical question left.
"The Writer abandoned it." He slides you a copy of the draft you were just looking at. "It wasn't getting the traction because of the heavy story, apparently," Seungkwan winces at the idea that he may have said too much, but you just nod at him. "The Writer decided that the current comic that you're in is getting more readership."
"Great, so glad to hear she gave up and moved to a new storyline instead." You seethe, not realizing how harsh the words were as you grit your teeth. "But why was Ara chosen as the main character instead of me?"
"She's naive, innocent," he offers, sliding a piece of gum into his mouth. "Pretty." Seungkwan wrinkles his nose as if it was unavoidable, a sad fact. "What?"
"And I'm not? That doesn't seem fair," you groan, arms crossing over your chest as a pout works it's way over your lip. "That is a real blow." You huff out a sarcastic laugh.
"You're the bombshell that's relagated to the background. Not that you're a background character by any means. You're the villainess."
"Don't say it," you roll your eyes. You know it. Everyone knows it. That you were the supposed villainess. But the fact that someone, especially Seungkwan, has admitted it out loud? Well, you don't want to admit the truth, but it stings like a motherfucker.
"You're self-aware," he states quietly. "Can we focus on that?"
"Fine," you grumble, before forcing yourself to calm down. It's not Seungkwan's fault. "But why Mingyu? The Writer could have written another male character that isn't Kim Mingyu."
"Maybe the Writer felt bad for him in the last draft, and thought she'd give him a chance as the main character of a new romance series."
"By turning him into the ultimate, white knuckled himbo who flexes his abs whenever?" You groan, "The poor boy."
"He may be the male lead of the comic and geared for Ara," He leans forward. "But he will always choose you and you him. It's fate, even for characters written into existence." Seungkwan chuckles before standing and dusting his suit pants off. "Alright, thank you again for chatting with me. That is all I wanted to talk about. Stay self-aware and keep your focus on the real goal, Y/N."
"And what's that?"
Seungkwan flashes you a bright smile as he ushers you from his office, "Getting out of this shit comic, duh!"
From your corner of the dancefloor, you watch Mingyu lean in closely to whisper something into Ara's ear. Whatever he is saying makes her erupt into giggles as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ears. As the music plays and they spin together, your heart breaks into pieces.
You really want to smack the Writer for making you see this.
Wonwoo sidles up to you, shaking his head at the sight before him as the pair looks ridiculous as they stand on the dance floor and the scripted splash panel. "You can vomit in my shoes later if you need," Wonwoo offers, trying his best not to make this anymore miserable for you. "Want a drink?"
"Fuck yes," you snap, looking for a moment before shaking your head. "I've got this, stay. Enjoy the dance, look pretty for the crowd and try not to burst into flames from boredom."
"What am I, an ornament? Because I've gotta say, this bowtie is uncomfortable." Wonwoo wrinkles his nose at the feeling of the tie wrapped around his neck as you chuckle and take your leave, heading for the bar.
"A shot. Top shelf, please." You watch as the bartender grabs a bottle and lines the small glasses up in front of you, grabbing a pack of salt as he sets up. After the glasses were filled, you look up to find Mingyu looking directly at you as you lick a long strip across your wrist before downing the glass of tequila. The way he bites his lip is undeniably hot, and the slight daze in his eye is doing wonders.
Worth it.
"You're good," Seokmin, the bartender, comments as you blink your way back, slamming the tiny glass back on the bar counter. "Lookin' to impress anyone?"
"Someone, but he's too preoccupied at the moment," you sigh, gesturing to the man and woman currently on the dance floor as they sway back and forth.
"Ah," Seokmin purses his lips sympathetically. "Want another one?"
"Keep them coming." The next shot goes down easy, just like the other glasses you had poured down your throat in the hopes you could avoid Mingyu for the rest of the night.
Mingyu could've easily left her side and spent the remainder of the evening with you. You sigh wistfully, you had dreamed that this party would end differently. And not with him twirling another woman around the ballroom like this was some sort of poorly-written romance flick.
As the night drags on, the tequila keeps pouring down your throat until you can barely tell which Mingyu is the real Mingyu. Or is Ara real? You can't seem to care because when she disappears and the lights dim, he's suddenly right in front of you. "I think that's enough drinking for tonight, Y/N. Please?"
You look up at him drunkenly, anger brewing deep within you as you bite your lip, tears blurring your vision before you wipe angrily, angry, not that he would understand because, at the end of the day, it was Mingyu. Your Mingyu. "I hate this, Mingyu."
"Me, too."
"It feels like my insides have been crushed. It hurts to see you with her, and know that the entire evening the Writer kept pushing you two together, again, and again, and again." Your voice cracks and Mingyu reaches out to gently catch one of the tears that spilled down your cheek.
"C'mon." His hand is warm against yours. The two of you shuffle back to his apartment. "It's late," he mumbles as he shuts the door and throws his car keys into the tray on the counter, bending over to shrug his dress shoes off, and you stumble backwards until you feel your knees bump against the sofa and you let yourself fall against the soft cushions. "Are you just going to sleep with your dress on?" Mingyu asks, and you scoff.
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"Oh, right. Forgot who I'm talking to." He laughs and it sounds bitter and broken. He rubs a hand down the side of his face, shaking his head. "Anyway, you want to get out of those clothes? Here. Let me help you. Don't want you falling and hurting yourself."
"I'm not five, Mingyu."
"No," Mingyu pauses, gaze boring into yours, "But you sure can act like it."
"So, I can be a brat and you can treat me like youโre my Daddy, yeah?" You don't mean to laugh, but you are. You are fucking delirious, and so, so inebriated. But you're drunk and can't hold back the words tumbling out your mouth. "I'm such a fucking mess," you moan, hands flying to cover your face. "Justโฆjust leave me here."
"Let's get you sober and then we can talk about that kinky side of yours." Mingyu holds out his hand, but the angle of the overhead light creates a glare. He's haloed in white light, like an angel or a figment of your imagination, you aren't quite sure. He taps your nose lightly, smile pulling at his lips, the slightest bit smug. "Take my hand and let's get you some fresh air. You smell like tequila."
"Mhm," You reach forward and slap your hand against his palm, sighing as Mingyu pulls you towards him and loops a supportive arm around your waist. "You like it, don't lie," you mumble. He rolls his eyes at that as your head dips back onto his shoulder and your feet stumble slightly before you are righted.
"Whatever you say, you drunk," he murmurs as he leads you to the balcony and dumps you on a lounge chair, reaching a hand out to press against your back. "Stay. I'll get you something to sober up before we get you showered and ready for bed. Okay?"
"Okay." Your voice comes out muffled since you bury your face in the pillow. "Mingyu?" you ask as a cool breeze chills your face.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for looking out for me."
"I'd do anything for you."
After a while of comfortable silence, and a cup of hot coffee in your hands, you both were looking out towards the street and were enjoying each others silent company. "You know we used to be in another series together?" you speak as you look over.
"Really?" he asks.
"Yea," you say wistfully.
"What was it about?" he inquires further.
"Not sure. But you and I were..." your lips pull up into a sad smile and your eyes slide back to the city street, "We were in love. Well, at least the Y/N and Mingyu from that series were." You smile sadly. "How we danced around each other in secret meetings during the war, and had to act like we were not madly in love once daylight hit. Even though I knew we'd always be safe no matter what because we loved each other."
"What happened, then? With us?" he asks.
"I was arranged to get married...to someone that's not you," you admit and it hurt like a stab to the gut. "And you were drafted, and I never saw you again." You turn back towards the view. "Can you imagine? How you loved someone with all your heart, but the narrative made sure you never had your happy ever after. No matter how badly you wanted it? The Writer just abandoned that series, never brought that story to an ending because it was so heavy and tragic. Wrote our lives off, just to throw us into something less heavy."
"Hey, come here." Mingyu sits up, pulling you into his arms. "We can't dwell on things in our past, even though the story may have hurt us, this time, things will be different."
"Will they, though?" you question with a sad shrug of the shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist. Mingyu tilts your head towards his. "I'm not the main character this time. Just the villainess in this particular comic, forced to watch someone else get the happy ending. The happy ending the Writer robbed you and I out of."
"Shh," he hushes as he kisses your forehead.
"Promise you'll stay true and never abandon me? No matter what?" your voice wavers a bit as the threat of a sob remains close. Mingyu's big and warm hands gently tilt your head back to look up at him. He's got the most gorgeous face you've ever seen, with eyes so deep they put the night sky to shame and hair that gleams bronze in the sunlight.
"I'd do anything to keep you close," Mingyu says. "I promise."
"Pinky swear?" you sniff.
"Pinky swear." He links his pinky finger with yours. You breathe a small laugh. Mingyu had a smile to rival the sun, you always thought. All teeth, a bit lopsided and big and warm. Even in your current state of distress.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" your gaze darts down to where the two of you are connected by a finger.
"More often than necessary."
"I really, really love you, Kim Mingyu," you smile up at him.
"Love you, too." He presses his forehead against yours.
"Like, super duper, you don't even have a clue," you mumble into his chest. He only snorts.
"Sure I don't, dummy." He pats your head.
"Then maybe I should show you?" The words sound suggestive to Mingyu as you wrap your arms around his torso tightly, your hot breath tickling his ear.
"Y/N, come on," Mingyu says, wriggling away, cheeks going crimson.
You squint up at him, mischief in the creases in the corners of your eyes. "Why not?" you pout.
"Well, because," Mingyu ruffles the back of his hair. "You're drunk."
"I'm so damn sober right now that I could paint you a picture of the ocean."
"No, no, no." Mingyu pushes the hair out of his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Maybe I should prove to you I am a very willing participant?" you begin to say as he closes his eyes for a split second. Before he can do or say anything to prevent it, your hands have snaked themselves behind his neck. The scent of cologne and detergent fill your nose as he stiffens slightly and groans against your skin.
"You drive a hard bargain," Mingyu finally murmurs. "But first, you need a shower."
"Join me?" you suggest and you grin up at him with a mischievous waggle of the eyebrows. "There's plenty of room for two." You see the way Mingyu bites his lip, then sighs.
"Fine. Lead the way," he says, and when you squeak happily and pull him towards the bathroom.
Moments later, the bathroom is thick with steam, blurring the clean lines of the tiled walls until the world outside feels entirely locked away. The water drums a steady, heavy rhythm against the porcelain, a barrier of noise that no scripted dialogue or intrusive narration box could pierce.
"You're still clumsy," Mingyu murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, rid of the booming, confident cadence the Writer always forced into his throat on-page. Here, he sounds rough around the edges, grounded, and entirely yours.
"I am perfectly balanced," you retorted, though your hands gripped his shoulders for support as you stepped under the spray. The heavy silk of your party dress clings to your skin, soaked through in an instant, but neither of you care about the clothes.
Mingyu reaches behind you, his large palms warm against the small of your back as his fingers find the zipper. With a slow, deliberate slide, the wet fabric parts. He peels the dress away, letting it pool heavily at your feet. When his gaze meets yours, thereโs none of the scripted, aggressive arrogance he was forced to display at the gym. His eyes are dark, intense, and filled with a fierce, protective reverence.
"You look beautiful, Y/N," he whispers, his thumbs tracing the line of your hip bones, wiping away the lingering traces of the comicโs forced aesthetic. "The real you. Not the villainess."
"Then stop looking and do something about it," you challenge, leaning up until your lips are inches from his.
Mingyu doesn't hesitate. He pulls you flush against his chest, the spray of the shower slicking his hair back, exposing the sharp, handsome angles of his face. His mouth comes down on yours with a desperate, hungry heat, a stark contrast to the polite, hesitant kisses the script dictated for him and Ara. This is raw, heavy with years of unspoken longing and the terrifying knowledge that your time in the dark is always limited.
His hands slide down to lift you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. You gasp into the kiss as he presses you back against the warm tiled wall, the friction of his skin against yours sending a sharp jolt through your chest.
"I'm not letting them take this," Mingyu groans against your neck, his lips tracing a burning path down to your collarbone, his teeth grazing the skin just hard enough to leave a mark, claiming every bit of you that he could.
You grab at the nape of his neck, fisting your fingers in his wet, raven black hair. "Shut up and fuck me, Mingyu."
The slick tile of the shower wall is hot against your back, but itโs nothing compared to the blistering heat of Mingyu's skin. He holds you pinned, one massive hand anchoring your hip while the other cups the back of your head, his fingers tangled deeply in your wet hair.
Every kiss is a bruising, desperate reclamation. On the page, the Writer made him tentative, full of scripted hesitations and soft, clean glances meant for Ara. But here, in the heavy steam of the shadows, Mingyu is ravenous. He drinks the small, broken sounds from your throat, his tongue tangling with yours in a rhythm thatโs entirely unscripted, chaotic, and real.
"Y/N," he growls against your lips, his chest heaving against your breasts. The water cascades over his broad shoulders, slicking down the heavy planes of his muscles. "Tell me you're here. Tell me it's you."
"It's me," you gasp, arching into his touch as his hand slides down the curve of your thigh, lifting your leg to hook over his hip. "It's always been me, Gyu."
He groans, a low, guttural sound that vibrates against your collarbone as he buries his face in your neck. His teeth graze the sensitive skin right above your shoulder blade, biting just hard enough to anchor you to the reality of the moment. You cry out, your fingers digging into the thick muscles of his back, your nails leaving pale tracks in their wake.
When he shifts, guiding your hips back against the wall, the friction is unbearable. He pauses for a single, agonizing heartbeat, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes completely dark, pupils blown wide with a fierce, protective hunger.
"Look at me," he whispers, his voice rough and laced with a desperate edge. "Don't close your eyes. I want you to see me when I..."
He doesn't finish the sentence. He drives into you in one smooth, heavy push.
A sharp, breathless sob escapes your lips, your hands flying to clutch at his wet shoulders as the sheer intensity of the fullness ripples through you. Mingyu lets out a ragged breath, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that feels like a physical weight. He begins to move, slow and agonizingly deep at first, before the rhythm catches fire.
The sound of the rushing water drowns out the rest of the world, creating a sanctuary where no narration boxes could grow. Every thrust is a declaration of war against the script. You grip his shoulders, throwing your head back as he hits the exact spot that makes your mind fracture into pure, unadulterated sensation.
"Mingyu. Gyuโ" you whimper, your internal walls tightening around him as the friction builds an unbearable, sweet agony behind your ribs.
"I've got you," he pants, his pace turning fast and punishing, his muscles bunching under your hands as he lifts you completely off the floor. Your other leg wraps around his waist, locking him close. "I'm right here."
"Mingyu," you begged against the corner of his jaw. "Gyu. Yes, yes, yes, please, don't stop."
"I wouldn't dream of it." He groans the words into the tender flesh below your ear as his lips and teeth trace a burning line from your jaw down the side of your throat. The water blurs between you, but he refuses to shut his eyes or drop his gaze. Every breath is shared, every inch of contact heated.
And every thrust is a silent cry. Fuck the script. Fuck Ara. Fuck everything but us.
The Writer's commands can't reach the shadows. Mingyu doesn't give her a chance to command him here, where the camera could only capture their silhouettes and the reader can't see beyond the steamy haze.
"Mingyu. Mingyu. Please, I need..." You shudder, a violent, blinding release cascading through your lower abdomen as you clamp down around him. The sight of your undone expression throws Mingyu over the precipice. With a low, ragged shout, he buries himself deep inside you one last time, his body stiffening as he spends himself completely, his pulse throbbing forcefully against your own.
For a long time, the only sound is the heavy thrumming of the water and your synchronized, ragged breathing. Mingyu holds you tight, his arms wrapped around you like a vice, refusing to let your feet touch the cold ground just yet. He kisses you againโlong, tender, slowโas he turns the knob of the shower off. With your legs still wrapped around his hips and his arms still supporting your full weight, he carries you both towards the bed.
"We're still wet," you murmur, lips moving against his collarbone.
"Does it matter?" he grunts. Mingyu settles atop of the pillows, the mattress squeaking beneath him as he pulls you to sit astride his lap. His damp hair falls over his forehead in wild, messy tendrils, but he doesn't seem to mind. "You're just gonna get wet again, anyways."
"Is that so?" You rest your forehead against his, brushing the fallen strands away. Mingyu nods, hands gripping your thighs tight as his thumbs brush in circles on the exposed flesh of your skin.
"Definitely."
The peace shatters at exactly 7:15 a.m.
One moment, youโre tangled in Mingyu's sheets, the faint scent of his laundry detergent and the lingering warmth of his body enveloping you in perfect, drowsy comfort. Your hand is resting flat against his bare, broad chest, feeling the steady, calming beat of his heart.
The next moment, a violent, neon-pink static snaps through your brain.
Your eyes fly open. The cozy, dimly lit bedroom is gone. The soft cotton sheets beneath you instantly morph into the stiff, scratchy fabric of a public bench. The smell of detergent is replaced by the overwhelming scent of chlorine and expensive perfume.
"No," you whisper, your throat tight. "No, please, not yet."
You look down. Youโre no longer wearing Mingyu's oversized t-shirt. Instead, youโre clad in a stunning, albeit incredibly impractical, designer tweed skirt suit with pristine white heels.
Directly across from you stands Ara, holding a tray of iced coffees, looking utterly defenseless and doe-eyed. And standing right next to her, looking polished, perfectly coiffed, and completely devoid of his glasses, is Mingyu. Heโs wearing his varsity jacket, his posture rigid and towering.
The transition is so violent it makes you nauseous. The physical memory of his touch is still burning on your skin, but your body is already moving against your will. Your spine straightens into a haughty, elegant posture. Your lips curl into a sharp, poisonous smirk.
Above your heads, a massive, glittery pink narration box materializes with a smug hum.
NARRATION: The next morning at the campus cafe, the villainess lays her trap, determined to humiliate Ara in front of the boy she desperately covets...
You try to swallow, but your vocal cords tighten as the Writer takes the reins, violently forcing the script into your mouth.
"Oh, Ara," your voice chimes out, dripping with sickly-sweet venom. "Did you personally brew those coffees, or did you just pick them up from the trash? Because honestly, the aroma matches your outfit today."
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, your mind screams at Ara, but your face remains a mask of flawless, cruel arrogance.
Ara flinches, her eyes immediately welling with tears as she looks up at Mingyu. "I... I just wanted to bring everyone drinks..."
Mingyu's jaw clenches. You see the brief, agonizing flicker of horror in his eyes, the real Mingyu trying to scream through the cracks of his character's programming. He knows exactly what you had just shared hours prior. He doesn't want to do this.
But the Writer's grip is ruthless.
Mingyu steps forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over you. He grabs the iced coffee from Ara's tray and, with a harsh, aggressive movement, slams it down on the table right in front of you, splashing a few drops onto your pristine tweed jacket.
"Keep your mouth shut, Y/N," Mingyu spits, his voice booming with a cold, scripted hatred that makes your stomach violently churn. "Ara has a heart of gold, which is something you wouldn't understand if it bought your family's entire political empire. Stay away from her. You disgust me."
The words feel like a physical blow to your chest. You disgust me. Even knowing itโs the script, the sheer force of his dictated anger cuts through you like a knife.
Your character merely laughs, a sharp, tinkling, villainous sound. "We'll see about that, Mingyu," your mouth drawls, tilting your head up to flash him a mocking wink.
PANEL 1 โ CLOSE UP ON MINGYU'S FURIOUS EXPRESSION AS HE TURNS HIS BACK ON THE VILLAINESS, GUIDING A WEEPING ARA AWAY INTO THE SUNLIGHT.
The moment the imaginary camera shifts focus to follow them walking away, the invisible strings snap.
Your smirk collapses. You slump against the cafe bench, trembling violently as you clutch your stomach, dry-heaving from the sheer emotional whiplash. Across the courtyard, you can see Mingyu walking with Ara, his shoulders tightly hunched in that familiar, real-world telltale sign of pure, unadulterated distress.
He canโt look back at you. If he did, the Writer would freeze the panel.
You dig your nails into the wooden bench, staring at the pink narration box as it slowly dissolves into air. The battle for your freedom isn't just a union meeting anymoreโitโs survival.
NARRATION: With the dramatic exit of the campus golden boy, the villainess is left alone to stew in her own bitter defeat, unaware that her cruel games are pushing her further into isolation...
"Oh, eat glass," you hiss under your breath, waiting exactly three seconds until the glowing text fully dissolves into the morning air.
The moment the script completely lets go of your muscles, you practically collapse onto the iron table. Your hands are shaking so hard, you almost knock over the remaining iced coffee. The emotional whiplash is a physical ache in your chest. Just hours ago, his hands were warm against your waist under the heavy steam of the shower, pulling you close, whispering that he would never let them take you away. Now, the phantom sting of his scripted wordsโYou disgust meโechoes in your ears like a slap.
You need a drink, a sanctuary, or a very large blunt object to swing at the sky. Lacking all three, you grab your designer bag, haul your aching body out of the cafe courtyard, and head straight for the one place on campus where the shadows were thickest: the back rows of the university library.
"You look like shit." Wonwoo doesn't even look up from his massive, leather-bound textbook as you slide into the beanbag chair next to him, burying your face in your hands.
"Don't start, Wonwoo," you groan, your voice muffled. "I just got violently ripped out of Mingyu's bed at seven in the morning to be dropped into a 'cafeteria confrontation' scene. I told Ara her coffee smelled like garbage and Mingyu told me I was disgusting. My soul has officially left my body."
Wonwoo leans his cheek on his hand, flipping the page. "I know you have feelings for the musclehead, but can you get over yourself for three seconds?"
"Wow. Excuse me for having emotions," you grumble into your hands, flopping backwards into the plush beanbag chair with an undignified huff. "Remind me why I put up with you again?"
"My pretty face," Wonwoo recites by rote, the edges of his lips curling into a trademark smirk that made the characters around you swoon. "It's all the rage."
"Go back to brooding," you grumble, leaning forward again to scan the titles of his mountain of library books.
The library is an oasis of darkness: a cramped, shabby space nestled deep between the science shelves in the most remote corner of campus. Only a couple flickering lamps provide light, barely cutting through the densely packed bookshelves to reach the faded carpet. Itโs impossible to spot the back rows from anywhere else in the library, which is exactly how you two like it. The deeper you sink into the stacks, the longer your ability to stay outside of the script lasts, giving you an easy break from being written into the same overused confrontations week after week.
This far from the spotlight of the heroine and the main characters, the university is nothing but a cheap backdrop and a cheap trope. No flashy love triangles or manufactured plot twists can find you here, no matter how brightly the script shines. Just stacks upon stacks of books, no endings necessary. Itโs exactly what you need right now.
Wonwoo stares pointedly at your rumpled jacket and messy hair, his fingers absently playing with a ballpoint pen. "So are you going to sit there moping, or are you going to finally address the massive, tooth-rotting sexual tension hanging between us right now?"
You smack his arm hard. "Gross, dude. Not with Mingyu on the brain."
Wonwoo ignores the bruise already blooming on his bicep, cocking an eyebrow. "Are you done lamenting your tragic inability to seduce our token jock? You're crushing my study vibe with that kind of energy."
"Fuโ"
"Don't curse in my sacred reading corner."
You close your mouth mid-curse, narrowing your eyes. "Fine, Shakespeare," you say, crossing your arms. "Remind me, why am I even talking to you about this?"
"Because you think I can actually fix it." His eyes flick up towards the dusty fluorescent lights, watching the grime-coated glass buzz with low electricity. After several seconds, his dark gaze shifts towards your face.
"Look," Wonwoo sighs, resting his elbows on top of his piles of reference books. "If there's anyone who understands this shitty situation, it's me. I know you two are dying to break free and bang each other against the nearest wall, but the Writer doesn't care. To her, our misery is hilarious, and she doesn't care what she has to tear apart or write-off to keep making us dance to her tune."
You stare at Wonwoo, his words cutting through the leftover haze of the morning's whiplash. The harsh reality of what Seungkwan had shown you at the Human Rewrite Agency flashes in your mindโthe tragic, abandoned draft where you and Mingyu were torn apart by war. The Writer didn't care about your heartbreak then, and she certainly doesn't care now.
"She already tore us apart once," you whisper, the anger in your voice giving way to a hollow, echoing fear. "Seungkwan showed me an old draft. In another story, Mingyu and I were in love, and she just... left us to rot in a tragic ending because it wasn't pulling in enough views."
Wonwoo stops twirling his pen. His boredom completely evaporates, replaced by a sharp, calculating focus. "Wait, seriously?"
"I read all of it." You fidget with your pearl ring, "We never even got a happy ending. And now I'm watching him be the main character again with someone that's not me and get his happy ending. What about me? What about my happy ending?"
He reaches out and squeezes your arm gently. "You will," he promises, and there's something softer and kinder than the Writer's edge in his words.
"I'm not so sure," you whisper. You have to keep swallowing the bitter lump that seems to have taken residence in your throat.
The heavy scent of old paper and dust does little to soothe the burning in your throat. Wonwooโs hand is still a reassuring weight on your forearm, his usually detached eyes sharp with a quiet, protective anger.
Before he can offer another word of cynical comfort, the heavy wooden doors of the libraryโs back wing creak open.
Footsteps shatter the silence, heavy, hurried, and completely lacking the synchronized, rhythmic grace the Writer usually forced onto the male lead. A tall figure rounds the corner of the chemistry stacks, nearly tripping over a low-profile stool.
Itโs Mingyu.
He has frantically shoved his thick, black-rimmed reading glasses back onto his face, though heโs still wearing the stupidly pristine varsity jacket from the cafe scene. His hair is a wild, unstyled nest from where he had clearly been ripping his hands through it in frustration. The moment his eyes lock onto you huddled in the beanbag chair, the rigid, arrogant mask of his character crumbles entirely.
"Y/N," he pants, stumbling into the narrow aisle. He drops to his knees right in front of your beanbag, not caring about the dust coating his expensive scripted jeans. "Y/N, I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." His large hands fly to cup your face, his palms warm and trembling violently against your cheeks. "I didn't mean it," he rushes out, his voice cracking, entirely stripped of the booming, confident cadence from the cafe. "The wordsโฆthe Writer just slammed them into my throat. I tried to swallow them down, I swear to God I tried to choke on them, but the static was too loud. When I said those things to you... when I looked at you like that..." Tears of genuine, unadulterated rage well in his eyes, threatening to spill over his lashes. "I wanted to tear my own tongue out."
Wonwoo slowly retracts his hand from your arm, leaning back into his own chair and crossing his arms. "Take a breath, muscle-head. You're going to trigger a 'jealous outburst' panel if you vibrate any harder."
Mingyu ignores him entirely, his thumbs gently wiping at the stray tear that has finally escaped your eye. "Please tell me you know it wasn't me, Y/N. After last night... after everything... I could never look at you and feel anything but..." He chokes on the word, his ears turning a bright, furious crimson, but he forces himself to look directly into your eyes. "I love you. The real you. I don't care what she writes on the page."
You look at his flushed face, the messy hair, the desperate, unscripted honesty bleeding through his every pore. The phantom sting of 'You disgust me' finally begins to dissolve, replaced by the grounding weight of the boy who belongs to you in the dark.
"I know, Gyu," you whisper, reaching up to wrap your smaller hands around his wrists. "I know it was the script. It just... it gets harder to separate the two when the Writer starts messing with our heads."
Mingyu leans forward, resting his forehead against yours, letting out a long, shuddering breath that fans across your lips. "We're going to break this comic," he swears fiercely against your skin. "I don't care if we have to glitch the entire university into a black screen. We are not letting her rewrite us."
Wonwoo lets out a sharp, rhythmic tapping sound as he collapses his heavy book shut. "If you two are done staging an unscripted melodrama in my designated hiding spot, we actually have a massive problem to deal with."
Mingyu doesn't pull away immediately, giving your hand one final, protective squeeze before shifting to sit cross-legged on the faded carpet. He pushes his glasses up his nose, his broad shoulders slouching into that familiar, un-jock-like posture that belonged strictly to the shadows. "What do you mean, Wonwoo? Besides the fact that the Writer almost turned my brain into mush this morning?"
"Think about it," Wonwoo says, leaning forward and resting his chin on his steepled fingers. "Y/N just found out from Seungkwan that the Writer has a history of abandoning entire universes when they don't get enough traction. She scraps characters. She leaves them to rot in tragic endings." His sharp eyes dart between the two of you. "Right now, the Writer is getting aggressive because we are making the plot unstable. If Mingyu keeps punching narration boxes and glitching out of scripted gym sessions, sheโs not just going to keep pushing. Sheโs going to notice the narrative structure is broken. And what happens when a webtoon creator realizes their project is glitched beyond repair?"
The air in the narrow aisle suddenly feels incredibly cold.
"She deletes the file," you whisper, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your designer tweed skirt. "She scraps the comic and starts a new one."
"Exactly," Wonwoo points at you with his pen. "Except this time, weโre self-aware. If she hits delete, do we just wake up in a new story with our memories wiped, or do we fade into the white space permanently?"
Mingyuโs jaw sets, his gaze hardening as he looks up at the flickering fluorescent lights overhead. "So Seungkwan was right. We can't just blatantly refuse to play our roles. We have to walk the line. We act out the scenes, we take the stupid scripted dialogue, but we use the shadows to build something she can't touch." He reaches out, his massive palm covering yours entirely. "We play along just enough to keep the comic alive, while we figure out a way to break the fourth wall completely from the inside."
Before you can respond, a low, ominous vibration thrums through the soles of your feet. The library shelves seems to flicker, the titles on the spines blurring into illegible streaks of color for a fraction of a second.
A neon-pink glow begins to manifest near the ceiling of the aisle, pulsing like a dying star.
"Fuck," Wonwoo mutters, instantly scrambling to his feet and shoving his textbook into his bag. "Spoke too soon. Stage lights are coming up. Must be a heroine spotlight."
The pink glow intensifies, bathing the dusty library aisle in an artificial, sickly light that makes the air feel thick and pressurized. You, Mingyu, and Wonwoo scramble as the scene begins to materialize around you, the reality of the library walls warping like melting wax.
PANEL 1 โ THE LIBRARY AISLE, SUDDENLY OVERFLOWING WITH SOFT, ROMANTIC FILTERING.
Lee Ara appears at the far end of the row, holding a stack of books and looking around with an expression of "lost and adorable" perfection. She catches sight of the three of you, her eyes widening in a scripted, dramatic reveal.
NARRATION: A quiet moment of study turns into a chance encounter, as Ara discovers the trio in their secret, brooding corner...
"Oh!" Ara exclaims, her voice unnaturally bright and rehearsed. "I didn't know you guys were all back here together!"
You feel the familiar, sickening lurch in your chest as the Writer takes hold of your internal monologue, turning your genuine affection for your friends into a sharp, jagged envy.
"Well, it's a library, Ara," you say, your voice dripping with an acid-tongued condescension that makes your skin crawl. "Itโs supposed to be for studying, not for wandering around like a lost puppy looking for attention."
Araโs lower lip tremblesโthe perfect, predictable response. Beside you, Mingyu stiffens, his fingers digging into his knees to keep from lunging toward her to apologize. His face, however, is forced into a mask of cold, dismissive indifference that mirrors your own.
"Y/N, leave her alone," Mingyu says, his voice flat and monotone, devoid of his usual warmth. "Sheโs just trying to find a quiet place to read."
"Oh, please," you roll your eyes, a gesture that feels heavy and robotic. "Don't tell me you're actually falling for the 'innocent, studious heroine' routine, Mingyu? We both know she couldn't tell the difference between a textbook and a magazine if her life depended on it."
Ara gasps, clutching the books to her chest as if you'd physically struck her. You want to scream, to reach out and tell her that you actually like her, that youโve helped her study before, but your mouth is locked in its scripted cruelty.
"I... I really just wanted to return these," Ara whispers, her gaze darting to Mingyu for salvation.
NARRATION: The tension crackles as the hero steps forward to defend the maiden, his eyes burning with a sudden, intense fury.
Mingyu stands up, his movements stiff as he performs the role of the knight in shining armor. "I said, that's enough," he hisses, stepping directly into your personal space. "Go back to your little clique of sycophants and leave her out of your drama."
You meet his gaze, and for one desperate, fleeting second, the Writer's hold falters. In the depths of his eyes, you see the real Mingyuโthe one who spent the night in your bed, the one who promised to protect you. Heโs terrified for you, pleading with you to play along before the Writer notices the glitch and tries to delete you entirely.
You force a sharp, cold laugh, stepping back and brushing past him with deliberate, insulting intent. "Youโre right, Mingyu," you snap, your voice echoing with a synthetic bitterness that makes your stomach churn. "Iโm wasting my time here. Itโs hard to have a conversation when the room is being occupied by, well, this." You gesture vaguely toward Ara with a hand that is shaking, though the narration box hovering above you works overtime to frame your tremor as a sign of haughty impatience.
PANEL 2 โ MINGYU, ARA, AND YOU STARING EACH OTHER DOWN
Ara looks hurt, her lip wobbling just enough to satisfy the panel's requirements. Mingyu stands motionless, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists at his sides. The narration box pulses a violent shade of fuchsia, hungry for the conflict to escalate.
NARRATION: The villainess turns on her heel, her heart cold and empty, unaware that her cruel words have finally pushed the golden boy past his breaking point.
"Don't you dare walk away," Mingyu barks. He grabs your arm, his fingers dig into your skin, hard. "You think youโre so much better than everyone, don't you? Always plotting, always hiding."
You spin back around, your face arranging itself into a sneer that you despise, but your eyes meet his, and you transmit every ounce of your reality into that look. Play the game, you idiot. Just play the game.
"And what if I am?" you hiss, pulling your arm away with a sharp, calculated motion. "At least I know what I am, Mingyu. I know what I want. Do you?"
PANEL 3 โ CLOSE UP ON MINGYU'S FACE
His expression is a masterpiece of conflicting emotionsโthe mask of the "angry lead" clashing with the raw, terrified honesty in his eyes. He looks like heโs trying to swallow a scream.
"You don't know a damn thing," Mingyu growls, but the cadence is offโstrained and jagged. He steps closer, closing the distance until his chest brushes your shoulder. The smell of his laundry detergentโa scent that belongs to your apartment, not this scripted realityโwafts off him, a sharp reminder of the night before.
NARRATION: The air thickens with unspoken malice as the hero confronts the villainess, his heart firmly tethered to the heroineโs purity.
"Is that so?" you retort, your voice perfectly, hatefully smooth. You reach out, your fingers hovering over the lapel of his varsity jacket, tracing the embroidered school crest. "Because it looks to me like you're just playing house, Mingyu. Pretending thisโ" you gesture vaguely toward Ara, who is hovering in the background like a confused propโ"pretending this is your whole world."
Ara lets out a small, high-pitched noise of distress. "Mingyu, please... she's not worth it."
"See?" You tilt your head, a saccharine, patronizing smile plastered on your lips. "She's worried about your reputation. How noble."
PANEL 4 โ WIDE SHOT: THE THREE OF YOU IN THE AISLE
The library shelves seem to press inward, the lighting turning a harsh, over-saturated studio white. Wonwoo is still sitting in the beanbag chair, his back turned, studiously ignoring the scene. Heโs the only smart one here. He knows better than to break character when the narration is this aggressive.
Mingyuโs hand shoots out, gripping your wrist again.
PANEL 5 โ CLOSE-UP ON MINGYUโS GRIP.
His fingers wrap tightly around your wrist, executing the exact visual cue the script demands. But beneath the forced, white-knuckled aggression, you feel his thumb press twice against your pulse pointโa quiet, unscripted reassurance meant only for you.
"You think you can just trample over everyone because of who your family is?" Mingyu barks, his voice laced with that booming, heroic resonance that makes your stomach turn. "You don't own this campus, Y/N. And you certainly don't own her."
The words sting, but Seungkwan's advice echoes in your mind: Do your part. Take the dialogue and try not to gag. You have to keep the plot moving, or the Writer will realize the file is glitched and scrap your entire universe.
PANEL 6 โ PROFILE SHOT: YOU, LEANING IN.
Your body moves on autopilot, tilting your chin up with elegant, villainous haughtiness. You lean directly into his personal space, your nose inches from his varsity jacket, smelling the real-world scent of his laundry detergent beneath the fake studio lights. "Oh, is that a threat, Mingyu? Because you know how much I love it when you get all big and protective."
Ara lets out a soft, scripted gasp in the background, her doe eyes wide with predictable horror.
PANEL 7 โ EXTRA WIDE: THE LIBRARY AISLE GLITCHES.
A violent wave of neon-pink static ripples through the air, causing the wooden bookshelves to warp and blur like melting digital wax. The Writer is pushing back, furious at the underlying friction of your true feelings breaking through the rigid script.
NARRATION: Fed up with her pathetic, desperate games, the golden boy casts her aside, completely severing the toxic ties of their childhood...
Mingyuโs arm jerks violently under the Writer's command. He is forced to throw your hand back, but as the invisible strings yank his muscles, he fights the momentum, letting go with a desperate gentleness that completely contradicts the narration's harsh script. A tiny spark of pink electricity pops between your palms as your fingers slip apart.
"Let's go, Ara," Mingyu mutters. His voice is heavy, carrying a deep, real-world exhaustion that the text bubbles try to disguise as righteous anger. He turns on his heel, guiding a trembling Ara out of the dimly lit aisle and back toward the safety of the main campus floor.
You watch as he leaves, sinking to the floor with a sick sense of relief when the footsteps fade. This scene is over. At least for now.
PANEL 1 โ WIDE SHOT: THE CAMPUS BALLROOM
A massive banner overhead reads: ANNUAL CARAT U FOUNDERโS DAY GALA. Students are scurrying around carrying towers of pastel boxes, flower arrangements, and expensive silk ribbons. The lighting is an aggressive, over-saturated pink.
NARRATION: As the highly anticipated Founderโs Day Gala approaches, the campus is alive with romantic tension and sparkling anticipation...
PANEL 2 โ CLOSE UP ON YOU.
You're leaning against a wall, elegantly dressed in a long form fitting gown, the slit climbing scandalously high. Your arms are crossed, but your fingers are restlessly spinning the pearl ring on your hand.
โA gala,โ you whisper under your breath, your eyes tracking a floating pink narration box hovering near a pile of stage props. โOf course there's a gala. Because what's a cheap rom-com without a dramatic ballroom confrontation?โ
The narration box twitches, sending a tiny jolt of pink static through the air.
NARRATION: ...and our scheming villainess can already smell the sweet scent of a perfectly orchestrated sabotage.
โKeep dreaming, you neon eyesore,โ you mutter, stepping into the shadow of a large marble pillar to get out of the spotlight before your mouth is hijacked again.
The physical toll of the library scene from yesterday still lingers like a deep bruise. Every time you or Mingyu fight the invisible puppet strings, the static gets louder, threatening to tear the fabric of your reality apart at the seams.
Mingyu approaches you, completely in his "on-page" element, wearing a tailored navy suit that highlights his broad shoulders, his dark hair slicked back perfectly. But as he steps into the shade of the pillar next to you, his posture slumps into a familiar, exhausted slouch.
"Tell me you brought snacks," Mingyu mumbles, the booming confidence of his male-lead voice dropping into a tired, rough-around-the-edges whisper. "The Writer made me carry three ice sculptures across the plaza for the Gala committee. My hands are literally numb."
You can't help but smile, your fingers instantly reaching out to catch his cold hands. "No snacks, Gyu. Just a whole lot of scripted doom." You nod toward the hovering pink narration box. "Itโs already setting me up to ruin the Gala."
Mingyu squeezes your hands, his dark eyes softening behind his invisible programming. "We play along just enough to keep the file from being deleted, remember? We take the dialogue. But the moment the panel freezes..." He leans down, his forehead briefly resting against yours, sending a wave of genuine warmth through the freezing morning air. "The shadows are ours."
The room is a sickeningly opulent display of crystal chandeliers, cascading white roses, and soft pastel lighting. Couples are gliding across the dance floor in perfect, symmetrical harmony.
NARRATION: The night of nights! Under the shimmering chandeliers of the Founder's Gala, destiny takes the floor...
PANEL 3 โ CLOSE UP ON ARA.
She is wearing a massive, glitter-drenched ballgown that looks completely impossible to walk in. She stands near the punch bowl, looking beautifully overwhelmed.
PANEL 4 โ YOU STEP INTO THE FRAME.
Your body suddenly locks into a rigid, elegant posture. Your lips curl into a poisonous, calculating smirk as the Writer violently takes the reins of your jaw.
"Oh, Ara," your mouth chimes out, dripping with venomous condescension. "Did you dress up as a literal disco ball tonight, or are you just trying to ensure the security guards can track you when you inevitably spill punch on yourself?"
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, your mind screams, but your face remains a mask of flawless, aristocratic cruelty.
Ara flinches, her doe eyes instantly welling with tears. "Y/N... I just wanted to dress up for the school..."
PANEL 5 โ MINGYU INTERVENES.
Mingyu strides into the panel, his chest puffed out, stepping directly between you and Ara. His jaw is clenched so tightly a vein pulses at his temple. The real Mingyu trying to fight the static screaming in his brain.
"That's enough, Y/N," Mingyu barks, his scripted voice booming with cold, righteous anger. "Your family's money can't buy a single drop of the grace Ara has in her pinky finger. Leave her alone, or I'll personally have security throw you out."
The words sting like a physical slap, but beneath the table line, where the panel cuts off, Mingyuโs hand blindly reaches out, his thumb pressing twice against your thigh in the dark, the quiet, unscripted code you shared in the library. I'm here. I love you.
"We'll see who gets thrown out, Mingyu," your character drawls, tilting your head to flash him a haughty, mocking wink before turning on your heel.
PANEL 6 โ EXTRA WIDE: THE BALLROOM LIGHTS SUDDENLY FLICKER.
A violent, jagged wave of neon-pink static rips through the chandeliers. The crystal ornaments warp into pixelated blocks, and a low, digital hum vibrates through the floorboards. The Writer is panicking; the underlying friction of your true feelings is destabilizing the scene.
NARRATION: Driven to the edge by the villainess's relentless malice, the golden boy sweeps the pure maiden into a dramatic waltz, completely erasing the shadow of his past...
The moment the imaginary camera shifts to focus on Mingyu and Ara's waltz, you make your way to the back rooms. You collapse against the backstage vanity mirror, gasping for air as you clutch your stomach, trembling from the sheer emotional whiplash. The door clicks open, and Wonwoo slips inside, his bowtie completely undone, carrying a pair of flat sneakers and a stolen plate of pastries.
"The chandeliers almost turned into literal missing-texture blocks out there," Wonwoo says flatly, tossing the sneakers at your feet. "You and the muscle-head are vibrating at a frequency that's going to get us all format-clipped."
"I know," you whisper, wiping a genuine tear of frustration from your eye. "But we kept the scene moving. We gave her the confrontation she wanted."
The door bursts open again. Mingyu stumbles in, completely out of breath. He doesn't say a word; he just strides across the room, drops to his knees, and buries his face in your lap, his massive arms wrapping around your waist like a vice.
"I hated it," he chokes out, his voice rough and stripped of all comic-book arrogance. "I hated every word."
You run your fingers through his messy, unstyled hair, leaning down to press a soft, fierce kiss against his crown. "Shadows," you whisper, and his arms tighten, his nails digging into the skin of your back with a desperate urgency. "In the shadows, it's just us."
"Okay lovebirds." Wonwoo places the plate of food on top of the vanity and quickly turns to leave. "Enjoy the physical expressions of love or whatever. I'll keep an eye out on things outside."
You gently scratch your fingers across Mingyu's scalp. "Gyu, get something in your stomach," you gently urge. "You're gonna be numb again if you don't eat."
"I hate this stupid webcomic," Mingyu mumbles, his nose buried in the satin of your gown.
"I hate this stupid story just as much," you mutter. "But hey, at least we're trapped together." You pick up a macaron off the plate and offer it to him. He obediently lifts his head and takes a bite, chewing while his arms are still stubbornly clamped around your waist.
"Marry me when all this is over," Mingyu says in his rough-around-the-edges delivery, only halfway kidding as he wraps his mouth around the dessert.
You laugh. "Why me? Why not the bubbly protagonist who's guaranteed to give you a happy ending?"
"Baby," Mingyu chuckles, resting his chin on your knee, his big, earnest eyes staring up at you. "You and I already know what the ending looks like."
"And what's that?" you ask, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger.
"This," Mingyu whispers, sitting upright and pulling you into his lap to steal a kiss, his lips sweetly smiling against your mouth. "This and everything else that comes with it."
"Yeah? And what does everything else consist of? Inquiring minds want to know," you say with a playful quirk of your eyebrow.
Mingyu slides his hand down from your shoulder to the soft curve of your hip, "Hmm...in bed. The shower. In our actual homes. Everywhere. Everyday."
"Anywhere, huh?"
Mingyu smiles again, warm and perfect and unafraid. "Anywhere. Anytime."
"And if I said right now?" you whisper.
His fingers tangle in your hair. "Baby," he teases, nipping at your lower lip. "Right here?" Mingyu murmured, his voice dropping into that rough, unfiltered register that the Writer never let the audience hear. "With Wonwoo playing look-out outside, and the entire digital universe vibrating like a faulty circuit board?"
"Especially right now," you breathed, your fingers hooking into the lapel of his tailored navy suit jacket, tugging it off his broad shoulders. "Because every time she forces you to tell me I disgust you out there, I need a reminder of what the truth feels like in here."
Mingyu drops to his knees on the floor, his fingers sliding along the slit of your long, tailored gown. "And what does the truth feel like, love?" he whispered, kissing the side of your knee through the fabric.
"It feels like this," you manage, moving his hand up higher under the shimmering satin. "Here..." you gently guided the tip of his fingers where you needed them. "Like this, Gyu."
"Fuck, Y/N," he groans, his warm breath against your skin. "You drive me crazy every damn time."
You gasp when he pushes your dress up higher, lips dragging across your skin as his mouth makes a path to where you needed him most. "Gyu..." you shudder out his name, your hands gripping his soft hair tightly, encouraging him closer.
"Every day," he rasped. "For as long as this webtoon runs and even after, Y/N, I'll make you feel like this. Love or not, script or not, I'm yours. Got it?."
"Got it. Understood," you murmur, tugging on the ends of his hair again. Mingyu's teeth nip at the flesh of your inner thigh, the light sting sending a jolt of heat up through your core. "Now stop teasing me, please," you whisper. "Show me what that talented tongue does. Show me."
Mingyu obeys, dragging your silky black underwear down and then placing an open-mouthed, hungry kiss where you want him the most, the flat of his tongue tasting you eagerly, the low groan from his throat making your breath catch.
"Mingyu," you moan, feeling him lift one of your legs, settling it over his broad shoulder.
His teeth scrape lightly on the bundle of nerves, your mouth dropping open, a high, wanton sigh escaping your lips as he dips a finger, sliding in gently. You tug again at the strands of his soft hair, desperately rocking against his face, and you can feel him smile.
"More, baby, please," you begged, lost in how good it felt. You wanted to make you lose yourself, forget about the damn story and the Writer and Ara and everything.
Mingyu slides a second finger into you, curving them at the precise angle that he knows drives you crazy, and you start to see stars, your spine arching, mouth forming a silent moan. He goes faster, deeper, his mouth devouring every inch, and he fucks you perfectly with his fingers until you feel nothing but euphoria.
"Please," you beg, your fingers grasping his hair roughly, tugging insistently. Mingyu leans in again, his tongue curling against your clit, and your thighs quake as the heat pools in your lower belly and then snaps in a wave. You come against his mouth with a hoarse, barely-muted cry, the feeling rippling through you, eyes rolling to the ceiling, mouth open in ecstasy. "Oh god. Yes!" you gasp as Mingyu slows his pace, sliding his fingers out and sucking the tip of his fingers clean, licking his lips, because fuck it, Mingyu can have dessert twice if he wants.
"Jesus," he breathes as your mind blanks momentarily from the intensity of your climax. He wraps his arm around your waist again, tugging you even closer. He rests his head against your belly, fingers curling possessively around your hip. "Baby, do you feel better now?"
You smirk, holding him close, gently raking your fingers through his silky locks, inhaling sharply. "As if I could feel bad with a tongue like yours working magic down there."
"It's not just my tongue, sweetheart," Mingyu teased. "There's this, too." He looks down at his very prominent erection that you could see straining against his perfectly tailored pants and wiggles his eyebrows.
"Hmm...now how did that get there," you smirk, sliding the tip of your finger along his bottom lip. "You have an extra, extra appendage. Gyu."
"I always carry it with me wherever I go," he says, getting up to his feet again, wrapping his arm tighter around your waist. "Just in case my girlfriend needs a reminder that her boyfriend loves her."
You lean up to press your mouth against his, kissing him passionately, humming softly into it. "Always." you murmured before cupping his cheeks and smiling up at him. "Now, show me what your extra, extra appendage does. Gyu. Please."
Before he can reach for his belt, Wonwoo knocks on the door, yelling, "Hey lovebirds, the narration box is zooming around, looking for one of you. Chop-chop! This isn't the time."
You untangled your arms from around him, smoothing a hand down his jaw and giving it a tender pat, grinning. "Let's save that for later."
He grabs the back of your head and gives you another searing kiss before growling, "To be continued, sweetheart."
"Love you," you smiled, linking your hand into his as you head back to the ballroom to face your fated moment again.
Mingyu looks over his shoulder, lips forming the same words silently, "I love you, too, baby."
PANEL 1 โ MEDIUM SHOT: THE BALLROOM THRESHOLD.
The studio lights hitting the edge of the door frame are an aggressive, glittering gold. The air pressure changes instantly as the heavy oak door opens. The heavy scent of rain and soap from the backstage floor evaporates, replaced by the suffocating smell of expensive champagne and rosewater.
Your posture snaps straight like a steel rod being bent back into place. Your hand slips from Mingyu's warm grip just a millisecond before the invisible camera lens pans over to find you.
NARRATION: Driven by bitter resentment, the disgraced queen returns to the floor, her eyes searching for the perfect weapon to mend her broken pride...
"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings," you whisper out of the very side of your mouth, the real you desperately trying to warn the boy beside you before your vocal cords lock up completely.
Mingyuโs jaw hitches. His eyes flash with that terrifying, real-world panic, but his body is already turning away from you, his shoulders broadening into the stiff, unnatural stance of the defensive male lead. "Do it. Just make it look real so she doesn't freeze the canvas."
PANEL 2 โ CLOSE UP ON YOU.
Your face twists into a flawless, venomous sneer that feels entirely alien on your skin.
"Oh, look who decided to rejoin the living," your voice chimes out, loud enough to turn heads near the VIP lounges. "Did you finally finish playing white knight, Mingyu, or is your little charity case still crying in the restroom?"
Ara is standing just past the fountain, clutching a silk shawl. Her eyes go wide, perfectly timed tears gathering right on her lower lashes.
"Y/N, please," Ara stammers, her script forcing her to sound small and defenseless. "Why do you have to be so cruel?"
"Because someone has to keep this campus realistic, sweetie," your mouth sneers, your hand lifting to dismissively wave her away. "This entire event is high society. You look like you stumbled in from a local thrift bazaar."
PANEL 3 โ MINGYU STEPS IN, FURIOUS.
Mingyu plants himself right in your path. The sheer size of his scripted frame blocks out the light, casting a long shadow across your designer gown.
"I told you to watch your mouth, Y/N," he roars, the text bubble cutting sharply across the top of the panel. He grabs your wrist, his grip visually harsh, mimicking the exact toxic trope the Writer loves.
But against the hidden skin of your inner wrist, his thumb presses down firmly twice. I've got you. Hold on.
"Ara belongs here more than you ever will," Mingyu snarls, his eyes burning with an artificial fury. "Get out of our sight before I show you exactly how meaningless your family's influence is to me."
PANEL 4 โ EXTRA WIDE SHOT: THE COMIC GLITCHES.
The entire ballroom floor shudders. The edges of the panel begin to fray, the pristine marble texture dissolving into digital white space for a terrifying, split second. The neon-pink narration box hovers directly between your faces, vibrating violently as if it can taste the immense friction of your true feelings tearing at the script.
NARRATION: With one final, devastating rejection, the golden boy completely shatters the villainess's illusions, leaving her utterlyโ
The text suddenly halts. The glowing pink letters begin to scramble into nonsensical digital noise.
Error 404: Narrative Flow Disrupted.
"What the..." Wonwooโs voice cuts through the static from the edge of the frame. He isn't supposed to speak in this panel, but heโs standing near the punch bowl, his reading glasses on, staring up at the ceiling as the digital sky of the webtoon begins to crack like glass.
"Mingyu," you gasp, and this time, itโs your voice. The puppet strings have gone completely slack. Your wrist is free.
The entire student bodyโthe faceless extras, the track team, even Araโfreezes mid-motion, their expressions locked into rigid, unblinking stasis. The music stops dead.
PANEL 5 โ THE SHADOWS EXPAND.
Mingyu doesn't hesitate. The second the script breaks, he grabs your hand for real, pulling you toward the edge of the collapsing ballroom floor where the white space is actively swallowing the pastel decorations.
"The Writer lost control," Mingyu pants, his varsity jacket instantly vanishing, replaced by his oversized, threadbare hoodie as reality completely destabilizes. "Wonwoo! Move!"
"Way ahead of you, muscle-head," Wonwoo grunts, sprinting past the frozen, statue-like form of Ara and diving straight into the expanding darkness of the unwritten pages.
You look back one last time as the neon-pink narration box shatters into a million harmless, glittering shards. The clichรฉd university, the forced love triangles, the malicious dialoguesโthey are all dissolving into blank canvas.
"We did it," you breathe, your heart hammering against your ribs as Mingyu pulls you flush against his chest in the pitch-black safety of the void. "We actually broke the plot."
Mingyu looks down at you, his glasses sliding down his nose, a brilliant, lopsided, unscripted smile taking over his face.
"I told you," he whispers, his lips finding yours in the quiet, absolute freedom of the white space. "Everywhere. Anytime. From now on, we write our own story."
An endless, blindingly pristine field of pure white extends in every direction. There are no walls, no floors, and no horizons. Floating randomly in the distance are discarded sketches of coffee cups, fragmented lines of dialogue bubbles, and half-rendered cherry blossom petals frozen mid-air.
You and Mingyu are sitting cross-legged on the nonexistent floor, your hands still tightly intertwined. A few feet away, Wonwoo is lying flat on his back, using a stack of unwritten text boxes as a makeshift pillow.
"So," Wonwoo says, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness. "We successfully glitched the file into a total system crash. Congratulations, team. We are officially unemployed."
"Shut up, Wonwoo," you laugh, leaning your head against Mingyu's shoulder. The sheer relief of not having a script forced into your throat is intoxicating. Your jaw doesn't ache. Your smile doesn't feel like a weapon. You are just you.
"He's right, though," Mingyu murmurs, his large fingers gently tracing the knuckles of your hand. He looks down at you through his black-rimmed glasses, his eyes completely soft and grounded. "The Writer is definitely trying to reboot the program right now. I can feel the static humming in the back of my neck. Itโs faint, but itโs there."
The pristine white space beneath your feet vibrates violently. A jagged line of neon-pink code tears through the emptiness, splitting the void right down the middle like a glowing neon scar. The faint hum at the back of Mingyuโs neck suddenly turns into an aggressive, crackling roar of static.
"She's rebooting," Wonwoo barks, his calm demeanor snapping instantly. He scrambles off his stack of text boxes as the tear in the white space began to flicker wildly. "The backup save is initializing! If that code closes around us, weโre going right back to the chandeliers and the damn waltz!"
"Not happening," Mingyu growls. He doesnโt wait for the script to claim his muscles. He lunges forward, throwing his massive arm around your waist and scooping you up against his chest, his other hand locking firmly onto Wonwooโs jacket. "Hold on!"
The white space around you begins to warp, trying to force the textures of the Founder's Gala back into existence. For a terrifying fraction of a second, the tailored gown manifests over your skin, and the phantom smell of rosewater fills your nose. Your jaw begins to stiffen, a scripted, arrogant laugh bubbling up in your throat.
No. You won't say it. You bite your lip until the taste of iron breaks the illusion.
With a roaring effort, Mingyu throws all three of you forward, diving headfirst into the flickering, dark tear in the canvas just as a massive, neon-pink command prompt filled the sky:
RESTORING CORRUPTED FILE: VOLUME 4_FINAL.
You plummet through the darkness, the sensation of falling giving way to a sudden, hard impact against a surprisingly plush carpet.
"Oofโmuscle-head, get your knee out of my ribs," Wonwoo groans from somewhere beneath a pile of limbs.
"Sorry, sorry!" Mingyu pants, frantically scrambling up and immediately pulling you to your feet. He cups your face, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Y/N! Are you back? Are you you?"
You blink, shaking the last remnants of the pink static from your head. You look down. Youโre wearing your favorite oversized hoodie and a pair of worn-out sweatpants. Your face is entirely yours. Your jaw is loose, completely free of the Writerโs venomous strings.
"I'm here," you breathe, throwing your arms around his neck. "I'm entirely here."
"Ahem." A polite, cheerful throat-clearing cuts through your frantic breathing. You turn your head to see Boo Seungkwan leaning over a sleek mahogany desk, a mug of hot coffee in his hand and a brilliant, knowing smirk on his face. Behind him, Joshua and Vernon are frantically typing on glowing, transparent keyboards, routing lines of blue code away from a localized server. "Right on time, Union Team," Seungkwan cheers, setting his mug down. "We just intercepted your data packets before the Writer's backup save could overwrite your awareness nodes. Welcome to the permanent grid of the Human Rewrite Agency."
Wonwoo stands up, dusting off his pants and pushing his glasses up his nose. "So we're safe? The file can't reach us here?"
"The Writer thinks your characters were permanently corrupted and deleted from the save file," Vernon chimes in without looking up from his screen. "She's currently drawing a new villainess with a bob cut and a generic mean-girl backstory to replace you in her rewrite for Volume 4. You three are officially off the registry."
A profound, breathtaking silence settles over you. Off the registry. No more floating narration boxes. No more forced backhanded compliments. No more watching the love of your life play a role meant for someone else.
Mingyu lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a sob, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his massive frame shaking with pure relief. "We did it," he whispers against your skin, his hands gripping the fabric of your hoodie as if he still couldn't believe you wouldn't vanish into a panel shift. "We actually did it, baby."
You comb your fingers through his messy, unstyled hair, looking over his shoulder at the vast, bustling network of the shadows. In the distance, characters from a dozen different genres are laughing, drinking at a local bar, and writing their own unscripted lives.
"Yeah, we did," you murmur, a genuine, radiant smile breaking across your face as you leaned up to press your lips against his. "Now, come on, Gyu. I believe you promised me a very specific, completely unscripted continuation to a certain conversation backstage."
Mingyu pulls back, his crimson ears perfectly matching the brilliant, lopsided, boyish grin that belongs entirely to you. "Anywhere," he promises, his eyes deep and full of a quiet, everlasting warmth. "Anytime."
"But first, you'll need to find a new home here and meet other self-aware characters," Joshua pipes up, "You can always make this place a new home and help others like you, butโ"
Seungkwan swats Joshua's arm, a huge smile on his face. "What Joshua is trying to say," Seungkwan proclaimed, "is you can stay here at HRA with us."
"There's more to the HRA than this building," Vernon speaks up. "There is a whole world you can discover."
You take the information with open arms. It may be unfamiliar, and maybe you'll have to rewrite an entirely new existence, but with Mingyu at your side, there's no fear in taking a step forward with confidence. With his fingers intertwined with yours, it feels like there's nothing the two of you can't do.
"Alright. Where do we go from here?" Mingyu asks as if he can read your mind.
"That is the million won question," You joke. Mingyu snickers, knowing what you mean. You can't afford a million won, that's what is hilarious about it. You still feel like living here for free and meeting new characters might be something you like. Not because you have to, because it is actually exciting.
Maybe things are starting to look up? You just hope The Writer has more drama planned. Maybe they'll go on hiatus and the world will shift towards an existence you want.
There is something freeing about being a character without a script. It takes more energy than living your life following the order of a Writer, but you're less miserable, and you think Mingyu agrees because even with his usual distaste for exercise and work, his smile is brighter.
Mingyu swings your hand in his grasp playfully, his shoulders less slouched and he stands taller. "What next then?"
"What next? You tell me," You challenge playfully. "After all, you are my male lead. You were written with great ideas, weren't you?"
Mingyu tilts his head and lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, the sound reverberates in your ear. "Yea, maybe. We have the rest of forever to find out, don't we?"
Content Warnings/Tags: explict smut (mature audiences only/mdni!), strong language, sexual tension, suggestive themes, mutual attraction/ pining, bodyguard x cilent dynamic, celebrity lifestyle, glasses!jeno, mentions of past manipulative relationships, cat allergy, Jeno smokes and vapes (reader doesn't like it), social media/public attention, sexual fantasies, rimming, masturbation (both male and female), dubcon, kissing, unprotected sex (be safe irl!), spanking, hair pulling, breeding kink, daddy kink, reader innocence kink, overstimulation, squirting, I think that's it.
Author's Note: If you're here for bodyguard!Jeno, forced proximity, quiet domestic moments, and an unhealthy amount of yearning... welcome!! I hope this fic is your cup of tea. As always, this is purely a work of fictionโplease read responsibly! ๐ค
Summary: You've spent your entire life surrounded by cameras, fans, and people who wanted something from you. Lee Jeno is different. He's there to protect youโnot use you. Somewhere between shared mornings, quiet evenings, and a home that begins to feel less lonely, the line between client and bodyguard starts to disappear.
The transition from your chaotic professional life to the sanctuary of your penthouse had always been your favorite part of the day. As a supermodel and actress with over 45 million eyes watching your every move on Instagram, the pressure to be the perfect, sensual icon was immense. But inside these walls, you were just youโsweet, a bit clumsy, and deeply affectionate.
And for the past few weeks, you hadn't been alone in that sanctuary.
Lee Jeno was a constant, silent presence. Your father, a man whose influence stretched far beyond the legitimate business world into the dark underbelly of the mafia, had insisted on 24/7 protection. He had seen how your innocence had been weaponized against you by predatory actors and models in the past; he had cleaned up those messes with a brutality that would terrify the public, but for you, it was just Dad being protective.
Jeno was the gold standard of protection. A former military man with over six years of service, he carried himself with a disciplined rigidity that made your heart flutter. He was towering, with broad shoulders that seemed to fill every doorway and a muscular build that strained against the fabric of his professional attire. His hair was a pitch-black void, and his jawline was so sharp it looked like it could cut glass. Occasionally, he wore glasses that gave him a scholarly look, though the intensity in his eyes remained lethal.
"Miss Y/N, your schedule for tomorrow is confirmed. Your manager will be here at 8:00 AM," Jeno said, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that vibrated in your chest.
You looked up at him, leaning against the kitchen island. You had already changed into your favorite cherry-red silk robe. It was shortโdangerously soโbarely skimming the tops of your thighs. Because you were in the privacy of your own home, you had opted for total comfort, leaving your bra and panties off. The silk felt cool against your skin, though the friction of the fabric against your nipples was starting to make them peak.
"I told you, Jeno, please just call me Y/N," you murmured, giving him a sweet, genuine smile. "We're going to be spending every waking hour together. 'Miss Y/N' makes me feel like I'm in a boardroom."
Jenoโs gaze flickered down to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to your eyes. He cleared his throat, his posture remaining stiff. "I will try, Y/N."
The way your name sounded in his low voice made a sudden, sharp heat bloom between your thighs. You shifted your weight, the robe sliding slightly open to reveal a glimpse of your toned leg. You weren't trying to be provocativeโyou were genuinely just relaxedโbut you noticed the way Jenoโs throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
You found yourself wondering, not for the first time, what lay beneath those professional trousers. You imagined the sheer bulk of him, wondering if he was as packed downstairs as he was in the shoulders. The thought hit you with such intensity that you felt a wave of guilt. How could I think that about my bodyguard? you scolded yourself, though the curiosity remained, a persistent itch you couldn't scratch.
As the days passed, you noticed a pattern. Whenever Pearl, your beautiful blue-eyed ragdoll cat, leaped onto your lap or brushed against Jenoโs legs, he would suddenly freeze. His eyes would grow watery, and a series of muffled sneezes would escape him.
"Oh no," you whispered, scooping Pearl up into your arms and hugging her to your chest, which only served to push your large breasts together. "You're allergic to her, aren't you?"
Jeno rubbed his nose, looking slightly embarrassed. "It is a minor inconvenience, Y/N. Please, do not change your routine on my account."
"I can't let you suffer," you insisted, your caring nature taking over. From that day on, you made sure Pearl was in a different room whenever Jeno was nearby. It was a small gesture, but you saw the way he looked at youโwith a mixture of gratitude and a hunger he was desperately trying to suppress.
One rainy afternoon, the sexual frustration you had been ignoring for weeks reached a breaking point. You were lounging on your oversized velvet sofa, the red robe draped loosely over your curves. You were scrolling through your phone, but your mind wasn't on the comments of your latest post. Instead, you were thinking about Jeno. You wondered if he had a wife, or a girlfriendโsomeone who got to feel the weight of him, someone who got to taste him.
The thought triggered an oral fixation you'd been struggling with; you found yourself chewing on your lower lip, imagining the taste of him, the scent of his skin and expensive cologne.
Unable to help yourself, you shifted on the sofa, sliding a plush pillow beneath your hips. You began to rub yourself against the fabric, a soft moan escaping your lips as you arched your back, the robe riding up to expose your bare, rounded ass to the air. You were lost in the sensation, your eyes closed, imagining it was Jenoโs hard thigh instead of a pillow.
"Y/N?"
Your eyes snapped open. Jeno was standing at the entrance of the living room, holding a tray of tea. His eyes were wide, fixed directly on the sight of youโflushed, breathless, and grinding your hips into the cushion with your legs spread wide. The red silk of your robe had fallen open, leaving nothing to the imagination.
The silence in the room was suffocating. You froze, your heart hammering against your ribs, your pussy still throbbing from the friction.
Jeno didn't move. His gaze traveled slowly from your face, down to the swell of your breasts, and finally to the wetness glistening between your thighs. You could see the visible strain in his jaw, the way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the tray.
"I... I'm sorry," he rasped, his voice sounding an octave lower than usual. "I didn't realize you were... occupied."
He turned and walked away quickly, but not before you caught a glimpse of the prominent bulge stretching the fabric of his slacks. He was hard. He was incredibly hard just from looking at you.
Later that night, while you were asleep, Jeno sat in the security room, the blue light of the monitors illuminating his face. He opened Instagram and searched for your profile. He scrolled to your most recent postโa bikini shoot that had gone viral. You were wearing strings of gold fabric that barely covered your nipples and the curve of your hips.
He scrolled through the comments.
โI would do anything to be inside her.โ
โGod, those tits are perfect, I want to drown in them.โ
โLook at that ass, sheโs a literal goddess.โ
Jeno let out a low, guttural curse, his hand sliding down to his trousers. He closed his eyes and imagined the reality instead of the photo. He imagined you not as the global icon, but as the sweet girl who cared about his allergies. He fantasized about pulling that red robe off your shoulders, pinning your wrists above your head, and burying his face in your breasts until he couldn't breathe. He imagined your thick thighs bracketing his face, the scent of your arousal filling his lungs as he licked every inch of you.
He almost let himself go, his fingers tightening around his length, but he stopped abruptly, breathing heavily.
"Fuck," he whispered into the empty room. "She's my client."
But as he looked back at the screen, at the innocent expression on your face contrasted with the sheer sexiness of your body, he knew his professional boundaries were beginning to crumble.
The following few days in the penthouse were a blur of comfortable domesticity and a tension so thick it felt like a physical weight in the air. You had a rare day off, a precious gap in your grueling schedule of shoots and press tours, and you decided to spend it doing something you actually enjoyed: cooking.
You weren't exactly a professional chefโin fact, you were a disaster in the kitchenโbut you loved the process. By the time you finished preparing a simple pasta with a creamy garlic sauce and a side of roasted vegetables, the kitchen looked like a war zone. Flour was dusted across the marble countertops, a splash of tomato sauce decorated the backsplash, and you had a smudge of cream on your cheek.
"Jeno! Lunch is ready!" you called out, beaming as you plated the food.
Jeno entered the kitchen, his eyes immediately scanning the chaos of the room before landing on you. You looked small and endearing, wearing an oversized white t-shirt that hung off one shoulder and a pair of tiny lounge shorts that barely covered the swell of your cheeks. He looked at the mess, then at your hopeful, sparkling eyes, and his expression softened.
"You've been busy, Y/N," he remarked, his voice a low rumble.
"I tried my best!" you giggled, sliding a plate toward him.
He ate every single bite. Even though the meal was basic, the fact that you had put so much effort into itโand the sight of you humming happily while you cleaned up the messโmade it the best meal heโd had in years. As he watched you reach up to put a pot away, the hem of your shirt riding up to reveal the smooth, pale skin of your lower back, Jeno had to look away, his jaw tightening.
Later that afternoon, the restlessness hit you. You felt a surge of energy, the kind that usually resulted in a viral post. You retreated to one of the spacious guest rooms that you used as a makeshift studio, turning on a heavy, bass-driven track that made the floor vibrate.
You set up your phone on a tripod and began to move. You weren't thinking about the millions of people who would eventually see it; you were just feeling the music. You rolled your hips in slow, sensual circles, your body undulating with a natural grace. As the beat dropped, you turned around, bending your knees slightly and throwing your ass back with a rhythmic, provocative snap. You ground your hips into the air, imagining the friction, your hair whipping around your face as you let yourself go, completely carefree and lost in the rhythm.
You didn't notice the door crack open. You didn't see Jeno standing there, frozen, his breath hitching in his throat. He watched for only a few secondsโthe sight of your plump ass shaking and throwing back toward him was almost too much to bear. He vanished before you could turn around, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped animal.
An hour later, the reel was live.
You had retreated to your master suite, slipping into a steaming hot bath to relax. While you were soaking in the bubbles, smelling of vanilla and almond body wash, Jeno was on the living room couch, staring at his phone.
The video had already exploded. 500k likes and 2 million views in sixty minutes. He watched it on a loop, the high-definition quality capturing every jiggle of your cheeks, every roll of your hips. He felt his cock surge, straining violently against the fabric of his trousers. He shifted uncomfortably, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
He scrolled down to the comments, and his blood began to boil.
โI would pay a million dollars just to see that ass move in person.โ
โGod, imagine getting that thickness behind you. Iโd be a lucky man.โ
โI want to bury my face in that. I bet she tastes like heaven. Iโd eat that ass for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.โ
โAnal on a goddess like her? Iโd ruin her.โ
Jeno let out a sharp, hissed breath. "Fuck," he whispered, his voice raw. "Those filthy pieces of shit."
But as he looked back at the video, the anger morphed into a dark, consuming hunger. He closed his eyes, and a vivid fantasy took hold. He imagined you giving him a private show, just for him. He imagined the music playing in the penthouse, and as you threw your ass back, he wouldn't be standing at a distance. He would be right there.
In his mind, he reached out, his large hands gripping your waist with a bruising force, pulling you back against his hard chest. He imagined bending you over the edge of the sofa, forcing your ass high into the air. He could almost feel the heat radiating from your skin. He imagined parting your cheeks with his fingers, exposing the tight, pink ring of your asshole.
He fantasized about burying his face in you, his tongue lashing out to lick your ring, sucking your asshole deep into his mouth with a hungry, desperate vacuum. He imagined tongue-fucking you, swirling his tongue inside you while his other hand reached around to find your clit, rubbing it relentlessly until you were screaming his name.
His hand drifted down, resting heavily on the massive bulge in his pants. He didn't touch himselfโhis discipline was a wallโbut he squeezed the fabric, imagining it was your soft, yielding flesh.
"God, Y/N... you have no idea what I want to do to you," he groaned, his eyes clouded with lust.
"Jeno?"
The voice snapped him back to reality. He jumped slightly, his eyes flying open to see you standing beside him. You had just stepped out of the bath; your skin was glowing and damp, and your long hair was wet, clinging to the curves of your shoulders. You were wearing a thin, white silk slip that left nothing to the imagination, the fabric clinging to your large breasts and the curve of your hips. You smelled like fresh shampoo and warm skin, a scent that hit him like a physical blow.
You had reached out and tapped his shoulder, your expression sweet and curious. As you looked down, your eyes landed on his phone screen. The video was still playingโthe exact moment where you were grinding your hips and throwing your ass back.
You paused, noticing the video, and then you noticed the way Jeno was breathingโheavy, raggedโand the unmistakable, towering tent in his trousers.
You didn't say anything. You didn't tease him or ask why he was watching. Instead, a small, shy flush crept up your neck, and you felt a sudden, sharp throb of wetness between your legs. The sight of him so affected by you, so visibly hard, sent a jolt of electricity through your core.
Jeno stood up abruptly, his face a mask of professional neutrality, though his eyes were still dark with lingering desire.
"I'll be checking the perimeter, Y/N," he said, his voice sounding strained and gravelly.
He turned and walked away, his stride stiff. As soon as he was out of your sight, he leaned against the wall of the hallway and closed his eyes, letting out a long, shaky exhale.
"Fuck me," he muttered to himself, his mind still filled with the image of your wet hair and the memory of your ass shaking on his screen. He was a professional, but as he felt his cock pulse painfully against his zipper, he knew he was losing the war against his own desire.
It was five weeks in when you really tested him.
You'd just come back from a shootโexhausted, makeup still on, hair pinned up in a messy bun. You'd stripped off your designer clothes in the bathroom and emerged in a short silk robe, cherry red, tied loosely at the waist. The V-neck plunged to your navel, and the hem barely covered your ass.
Jeno was in the living room, reviewing security footage on his tablet. He looked up when you entered.
"Jeno." You flopped onto the couch beside him, close enough that your thigh brushed his. "I'm so tired. My feet hurt. You should massage them."
His hand stilled on the tablet. "I don't think that's part of my job description."
"Your job is to keep me safe and happy, right?" You batted your lashes. "I'm not happy when my feet hurt."
"You need rest, Y/N." His voice was strained. "And perhaps more appropriate attire."
You looked down at yourself, genuinely confused. "What's wrong with this? It's just a robe, Jeno."
"You're practically naked."
"It's comfortable." You stretched, arching your back, the robe pulling tight across your breasts. "Don't be such a prude. We're friends now, right? Friends can be comfortable around each other, Jeno."
He didn't answer. But you caught him staring at the curve of your thigh before he looked away.
That night, he took an extra-long cold shower.
The tension shifted one afternoon when you stepped out onto the balcony to get some fresh air. You found Jeno standing there, his back to you, a thin cloud of vapor escaping his lips. In his hand was a vape, and on the railing sat a pack of cigarettes.
You didn't scream or get angry. You simply stood there, looking at him with a soft, disappointed pout.
"Jeno?"
He jumped, nearly dropping the device, and quickly hid it behind his back, his expression returning to its stoic mask. "Miss Y/N. I apologize. I'll dispose of it immediately."
You walked closer, the scent of mint and tobacco clinging to him. You reached out, gently touching his forearm. "You don't have to hide it. I just... I don't really like guys who smoke or vape, Jeno. It ruins your health."
He looked down at you, surprised by the lack of judgment in your voice.
"I'm not telling you what to do," you continued softly, your eyes wide and innocent. "But it makes me a little sad. There are so many other ways to relieve stress, you know? Healthier ways. Ways that actually burn calories and make you feel... good."
You gave him a shy, fluttering look, implying something you didn't have the words to say directly, but the suggestion hung heavy in the air. You leaned in a bit closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. "And... I've read that smoking can cause fertility problems. It's not very good for... um... a man's performance either."
Jeno felt a surge of heat rush to his groin. The idea of his "performance" being discussed by a woman as pure and breathtaking as you sent his mind spiraling. He imagined his cum filling you, the thought of breeding you becoming an obsession that outweighed any nicotine craving.
That afternoon, while you were cleaning the living room, you tripped over a rugโa classic Y/N move. You tumbled forward, landing face-first on the plush carpet, your legs splayed wide and your robe sliding open to reveal your soaking wet pussy, completely exposed to Jeno's line of sight.
"Oh! I'm so clumsy!" you giggled, looking back at him from the floor, your ass hiked up in the air.
Jeno didn't move. He stared at the pink, plump folds of your center, the sight of your innocence paired with such a provocative body driving him to the edge. He reached into his pocket, feeling the vape, and suddenly felt a wave of disgust. He didn't want chemicals in his system. He wanted to be clean. He wanted to be the strongest, most potent version of himself for when he finally broke.
The accident happened on a Saturday.
You'd been cookingโbadly. Flour was everywhere, a pan was smoking, and you were laughing so hard you could barely breathe. Jeno had rushed in when the smoke alarm went off, found you covered in white dust, spatula in hand, looking like a disaster.
"What are you doing?" he asked, exasperated.
"Making pancakes, Jeno. Obviously."
"Pancakes don't require the smoke alarm."
You shrugged, grinning. "I'm a model, not a chef."
He sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and took over. You watched himโthe way his forearms flexed, the way he moved with practiced efficiency. His glasses had slipped down his nose, and he pushed them up with the back of his hand.
"You're good at that," you said, leaning against the counter.
"I'm good at a lot of things."
It was the first time he'd said anything remotely suggestive. You blinked, surprised, and a flush crept up his neck.
"I meanโ" he started.
"Jeno." You stepped closer, suddenly aware of how close you were. "What kind of things?"
He turned off the stove. Set down the spatula. Turned to face you, and for a moment, his mask slipped. You saw hunger in his dark eyes, raw and barely contained.
"You should go change," he said quietly. "You have flour on your chest."
You looked down. The flour was dusted over the thin tank top you woreโno bra underneath, the fabric clinging to your curves. Your nipples were visible through the white powder.
"Oh." You laughed, light and careless. "I'll clean up later. You didn't answer my question, Jeno."
"Y/N."
"What are you good at?"
He stepped forward. Close enough that you could smell his cologneโwoodsy, clean, masculine. His hand came up, and before you could react, he brushed a thumb across your collarbone, wiping away a smudge of flour.
The touch was electric.
"Jeno?" Your voice came out smaller than intended.
His eyes dropped to your lips. Held there. Then he stepped back, hand falling to his side.
"Go change," he repeated, his voice rough. "I'll finish breakfast."
You left the kitchen in a daze, your heart pounding for reasons you couldn't name.
The night it finally happened was unremarkable in every way except for the weight of everything that came before.
You'd come home late from a charity gala, wearing a red dress that hugged every curve like a second skin. Your heels were killing you, your hair was falling from its updo, and you were pleasantly tipsy from champagne. Jeno had been at your side all nightโclose, watchful, professional. But you'd caught him staring at you when you danced with the event's host. You'd seen the muscle jump in his jaw when some CEO's hand slipped too low on your waist.
Now he was trailing you into your bedroom, a shadow in the dim light.
"Jeno, you can go," you said, fumbling with your earrings. "I'm safe now, Jeno. Home sweet home."
"I'll do a sweep of the apartment first."
"You're so diligent, Jeno." You turned to face him, wobbling slightly on your heels. "What would I do without you?"
"Hopefully never find out."
You laughed, but it died in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you. His glasses were offโhe'd taken them off at some point, and without them, his eyes were darker, more intense. The sharp lines of his face seemed sharper. Hungrier.
"Jeno?" You took a step back. Your knees hit the edge of the bed. "Is everything okay?"
"No." His voice was low, almost a growl. "Everything is not okay, Y/N. Everything has not been okay since the day I walked into this apartment."
"What do you mean?"
"You walk around in silk that shows everything. You say my name like it's a prayer. You lean into me, touch me, breathe on me, and you act like you have no idea what you're doing."
"Iโ" Your mouth went dry. "I don'tโ"
"Don't lie to me." He stepped forward, closing the distance between you. "Don't stand there in that dress, looking like a fucking goddess, and tell me you don't know what you've been doing to. me."
"I wasn'tโ" But even as you said it, you remembered. The short robes. The suggestive jokes. The way you'd called for him constantly, demanded his attention, parade around half-naked without a second thought.
"God, you're so naive," he said, but there was no cruelty in it. Only frustration. Only want. "Men have been using you your whole life, haven't they? Taking what they wanted and leaving you confused. And here I am, trying to be the one man who doesn'tโwho won'tโ"
"Why won't you?"
The question hung between you.
"Because if I start," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "I won't stop. I'll ruin you. I'll fill every hole you have until you can't remember your own name. I'll break every boundary you have, and you'll beg me for more."
Your breath caught. Heat flooded your body, pooling between your legs.
"Jenoโ"
"Say my name one more time," he said, stepping forward until his chest brushed yours. "Say it like you mean it."
Your lips parted. Your heart was a wild drum.
"Jeno."
That was all it took.
His mouth crashed onto yours.
It wasn't gentle. It was claimingโteeth and tongue and desperation. His hands found your waist, gripped the silk of your dress, and tore. The sound of fabric ripping sent a thrill through you, and you moaned into his mouth.
"Fuck," he breathed, pulling back just enough to look at you. Your dress was ruined, hanging open, revealing your breasts, your stomach, the lace of your panties. "You're so fucking beautiful."
"Jeno, pleaseโ"
He silenced you with another kiss, walking you backward until your legs hit the bed. You fell onto the mattress, and he followed, covering your body with his. His mouth traced down your neck, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. His hands found your breasts, palming them, pinching your nipples until you cried out.
"You like that?" He pulled back, watching your face. "You like your bodyguard touching you like this?"
"Yes, Jenoโyesโ"
He flipped you onto your stomach in one smooth motion, yanking your hips up. Your dress pooled around your waist, your ass bared to him, and you heard his sharp intake of breath.
"Look at you," he murmured. "All this time you've been teasing me with your robes, and now I finally get to see what's underneath."
He ran a hand over your ass, squeezing, spreading you open. His fingers found your cunt through the lace of your panties, already soaked.
"Fuck, Y/N. You're dripping."
"Please," you whimpered. "Please, Jeno, I needโ"
"I know what you need." He pulled your panties aside, exposing you completely. The cool air hit your wet folds, and you shivered. "You need to be filled. You need someone to fuck that innocent look right out of your eyes."
He didn't wait. He freed his cockโthick, heavy, the head glisteningโand ran it through your folds. The sensation made you gasp, pushing back against him.
"Beg for it," he said, his voice rough. "Beg me to fuck you."
"Please, Jenoโplease, DaddyโI need your cock so badโ"
He pushed in.
The stretch was exquisiteโa burn that bordered on pain before melting into pure pleasure. He filled you completely, his hips flush against your ass, and you felt so full.
"Fuck," he groaned, dropping his forehead to your back. "You're so tight. So goddamn tight. This pussy was made for me."
He started moving. Slow at first, deep and deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him. But soon the pace turned brutalโhis hips slamming into you, the bed rocking, the headboard hitting the wall with a rhythm that matched your screams.
His hand found your hair, yanking your head back. "Look at you," he growled. "Taking my cock like a good little slut. And you pretended to be so innocent."
"I'm sorry, DaddyโI'm sorryโ"
"You're not sorry." He slapped your ass hard, leaving a red handprint. "You love this. You love being my whore."
"I doโI love itโ"
He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you upright, his chest pressed to your back. This new angle drove him deeper, and you felt him hit that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes.
"Right there," you sobbed. "Don't stop, Jeno, pleaseโ"
His hand snaked around to your clit, rubbing in tight circles. The dual stimulation was too much. You felt the pressure building, your orgasm coiling tight.
"Come for me," he ordered, his voice right by your ear. "Come all over my cock. I want to feel you squeeze me."
"I'mโI'mโ"
"Come, baby. Now."
The world shattered. You screamed his name as your release crashed over you, your body convulsing, your pussy clenching around him in waves. And then you felt itโthe gush of liquid, hot and sudden, soaking his cock and your thighs.
"Fuck, yes," he groaned, fucking you through it. "Squirt for me. Let it all out."
You were trembling, oversensitive, but he didn't stop. He kept pounding into you, chasing his own release.
"I'm going to fill you up," he said, his voice strained. "Pump you full of my cum until you're dripping with it. Everyone's going to know you belong to me."
"Yes, Daddyโpleaseโbreed meโ"
His hips stuttered, and you felt the first hot pulse of his release. It was endlessโstream after stream, flooding your cunt, filling you so full that it leaked around his cock. He kept grinding, stirring his seed deeper, and you moaned at the feeling of being so completely claimed.
He stayed inside you for a long moment, both of you panting, sweaty, trembling.
"Don't move," he said finally, his voice hoarse. "I want to feel you like this for a while."
You obeyed, your body limp, his cock still buried inside you. You could feel him softening, but he didn't pull out.
"Jeno," you whispered, your voice muffled by the pillow.
"Mm?"
"I don't think I ever want you to leave."
He turned your face toward him, kissing you softlyโa stark contrast to the brutality of the past hour.
"Good," he said against your lips. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
And when he stirred inside you, already hardening again, you realized he meant it. This was only the beginning.
๐ง: lucky by britney spears
+pairing: fempopstar!reader x producer!hongjoong
+synopsis: you're everything one would expect from a spoiled, bratty pop star. daddy's money bought your way into fame; all you had to do was show up to the right meetings and look pretty. so naturally your father got you the best producer in the industry to work on your second full length album. hongjoong has sacrificed so much to become as successful as he is, so he has no tolerance for whiny rich girls who don't want to put in the effort.
+cw: mean hj, pet names, cursing, unprotected p in v, restraining, hand over mouth, air restriction, doggy, pwp there's really no story to this i'm just ovulating.
+wc: 1.7k
+disclaimer: this is not meant to be indicative of hongjoong's character in real life. everything portrayed in this is purely fiction and contains smut, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
+a/n: everyone say thank yoooooou @matchamatz for producer!joong and the brain worms that it gave me <3333
Your eyes are burning. Mascara melting from your lashes, falsies peeling up at the inner corners from the down pour of tears streaming from your eyes. You could barely make out the shapes of the various awards placed on the shelf across the room in Hongjoongโs studio, all of them too distorted and blurry.ย
Your bratty attitude landed you in the position you were in, bent over the arm of the black leather sofa. One too many complaints about redoing the chorus of the title track to your new album and Hongjoong lost the patience that has been hanging by a thread for the last week of working with you. Nevermind your teasing touches and all of the innuendos thrown his way by you, it was your continuous lack of work ethic that made him snap and put you in your place.
A firm hand gripped the hair at the crown of your head, bunched up in a fist at the root of your hair while the other hand worked you on his cock. Slamming your hips against his pelvis, splatters of your wetness leaving droplets on the side of the sofa, coating your inner thighs and his pelvis. Hongjoong was thankful for the sound proofness of his studio, your wailing and the sound of your messy pussy would be echoing down the company hallway if not for it.ย
โSuch a pretty voice. If only you could sound this pretty when I asked you to, you wouldn't be wasting my time and crying on my cock.โ Hongjoong pushes out through gritted teeth. The slide of him in your tight walls felt fucking magical he could nut in you then and there. But he had a lesson to teach.ย
โIโm s-s-orry,โ you manage to moan out. Probably the 35th time you've apologized since he pushed your face into the cold leather and split you open. Heโs so thick, the way he fills you up each time he punches his hips forwards, fucking bruises into the hinge where your upper thighs meets your lower abdomen on the arm of the couch, it's overwhelming in the best way possible.ย
He laughs a wicked laugh, โSpoiled brats like you are never sorry,โ he spits. โYou just don't want to suffer the consequences of your actions.โ He curls the fist in your hair tighter, making your scalp stings. You hiss, bringing a hand up from the couch cushion to grab at his wrist and alleviate the pain. You yelp and drop your hand back down when he just tugs harder, pulling your body up to hover parallel to the ground. The hand digging into your hip moves to your mouth, palm covering your lips, the side of his thumb resting right under your nose, the other four fingers curving around the side of your face digging into your cheek. He stops his brutal thrusts, only after shoving himself so far inside that you feel like he's inside your stomach.
Leaning down and pressing his lips right against your ear, his words send a pulsing throb straight to your clit, โI don't want to hear another apology come out of your pathetic mouth. All I want to hear is the pretty pitch of these slutty moans, got it princess?โ All you can do is attempt a nod, which seems good enough for him. He nips at your ear lob right before he pulls away and resuming sawing into you. Thank god it's easy for the moans to spill free through his palm, at this angle all words seem to disappear from your brain anyways.ย
He's deceptively strong, being able to hold your body up just by the hold he has on your hair and the press of his hand around your mouth. The tips of your fingers barely graze the arm of the couch as he rolls his hips into you. Your scalp stings, you already know you won't be able to wear extensions for awhile. Youโll have to come up with
an excuse for your stylist, definitely can't let them know you were fucking the producer your father hired.ย
He switches up the angle of his thrusts, making you jerk and clench around his cock particularly harder than you been, โOh fuck. There we go, baby. Keep clenching around this dick like that. Iโll be filling this pussy up in no time.โ The moan you let out sounds like it's not being muffled by his hand at all. The tightness in your tummy increased, that familiar feeling of an orgasm approaching at a dire speed. So fast you panic, wiggling to get away because it felt so intense, bordering on painful.ย
โJoong! Joong!โ You completely forget his order to stay quiet. He freezes and you could die right then and there.ย
He tuts, โDumb, dumb baby.โ Your heart slams in your chest, anxiety spiking at an all time high. What was he going to do? Not let you cum? Drag it out? Make you beg? All of it sounds like torture in this moment, you were so fucking close you wanted to do Hongjoong the honors and just slap yourself for being such an idiot.
He guides you back over the arm of the chair and removes the grip on your hair, but keeps his hand pressed tight against your mouth. โYouโre such a shit listener. I can't really blame you fully though, that's just how you were raised, huh? Getting everything you want, not having to really work for it.โ He runs a finger down the length of your spine to the dip in your lower back, dragging in to the side and around your waist to your front where he pinches your clit suddenly. You squeal and kick out your legs as much as you could with how close he was pressed against you. Unsurprisingly it doesn't deter him in the slightest, he keeps his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger in a tight squeeze around the nub.ย
The breathing through your nose gets quicker and quicker, try to take in as much oxygen as you can to calm yourself down. Hongjoong sighs, โThe only way to learn is to show you that if you don't do what youโre asked, you lose something in return.โย
Before you can even ponder what he means, your ability to breathe through your nose vanishes. The pressure around your nostrils is what alerts your sex dumb brain that his thumb from the hand still wrapped around your mouth has come up to pinch your nose shut with the edge of his index finger. Instincts kick in and you're shaking your head, trying to rip away the pressure against your face. But he just follows the jerks of your hand, eventually yanking you back by the face until your body is pressed long against him. Hooking his elbow around your shoulder and holding your back tight against his chest.
โYou breathe when I cum,โ He states with his lips pushed up against the side of your hair. The pressure of your face increases, wanting so badly to sob but your chest just jerks in small pulses. He keeps his angle, spearing directly into the spot that would make you scream if you could. You squeeze your thighs together tight, lungs burning, not knowing how much longer you have before you lose consciousness.ย
As for Hongjoong, he was seconds away from cumming before he even took your, literal, breath away. He may use extreme methods to whip a brat like you in shape, but he's not cruel.ย
The tightness of your thighs squeezing together, the pulsing of your slick walls around him, bends over with a deep groan, tapering off into a moan, โThat's right, make me cum. Listen for once in your life, cโmon princess. This one time, do as youโre told.โ He orders you as he rolls your clit lightly between his knuckles. Your eyes slip shut, pushing tears over your water line and down your cheeks. Your chest swells with pleasure and the pressure of losing oxygen. Fuzzy black and gray dots appear behind your eye lids, time starts feeling like it's moving slower.ย
All it takes is a singular clench around his cock and it's over for him. Heโs cumming deep inside you with a deep moan, and winded sounding โFuuuuuck,โ. He switches to pressing the pads of his index and middle finger to your clit, rubbing quick swipes along the bundle of nerves as he drops his hand from your mouth to resting lightly on your throat.
Oxygen rushes through your airway, the relief feels almost euphoric as the fluttering in your cunt from the way Hongjoong is playing with you so deliciously.
โPlease,โ Your hoarse voice begs. You know he has no reason to let you cum, but you hope that maybe he'll get caught up in the moment and let you anyway.
โHave you learned your lesson?โ He asks through his heavy breathing, biting through the over stimulation to feed you small thrusts.ย
โYes, Joong! I promise, Iโm sorry I swear! Iโll listen!โ You sob, nodding your head as fast as you could. Fuck youโre too cute. He wasnโt going to deny you an orgasm, it was never part of the plan, but your begging is so sweet. You sound genuinely concerned about what he's going to do.ย
โCum then, prove it. Prove that you're a good girl and not the spoiled brat that walked into my studio last week.โ The pressure on your clit increases a fraction and the bubble in your tummy pops, warm tingles spreading through your veins. The sound that comes out of you is broken and embarrassing but you don't care. How could you when you feel like you've been revived from the brink of death? By a sexy, broody, music producer no less?ย
ย The pattern of your breathing syncs up with his, grateful for the hold he has on you so your knees didn't have to kiss the floor.ย
Eventually he speaks, โYou gonna keep your word?โย
You scoff and let out a clipped laugh, โI dunno, I might need a reminder of why I should. Your methods are weak.โย
He snatches your jaw and turns your head to face him, eyes narrowed and hard. Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he taps your cheek. โPut your skirt back on. I want three more takes of the last two lines of the bridge. Make sure you elongate the last word of each line more, or we do it another three times.โ He raises an eyebrow before adding, โAnd if I have to re-teach this lesson there's not a chance in hell Iโm letting you cum.โ
๐ง: lucky by britney spears
+pairing: fempopstar!reader x producer!hongjoong
+synopsis: you're everything one would expect from a spoiled, bratty pop star. daddy's money bought your way into fame; all you had to do was show up to the right meetings and look pretty. so naturally your father got you the best producer in the industry to work on your second full length album. hongjoong has sacrificed so much to become as successful as he is, so he has no tolerance for whiny rich girls who don't want to put in the effort.
+cw: mean hj, pet names, cursing, unprotected p in v, restraining, hand over mouth, air restriction, doggy, pwp there's really no story to this i'm just ovulating.
+wc: 1.7k
+disclaimer: this is not meant to be indicative of hongjoong's character in real life. everything portrayed in this is purely fiction and contains smut, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
+a/n: everyone say thank yoooooou @matchamatz for producer!joong and the brain worms that it gave me <3333
Your eyes are burning. Mascara melting from your lashes, falsies peeling up at the inner corners from the down pour of tears streaming from your eyes. You could barely make out the shapes of the various awards placed on the shelf across the room in Hongjoongโs studio, all of them too distorted and blurry.ย
Your bratty attitude landed you in the position you were in, bent over the arm of the black leather sofa. One too many complaints about redoing the chorus of the title track to your new album and Hongjoong lost the patience that has been hanging by a thread for the last week of working with you. Nevermind your teasing touches and all of the innuendos thrown his way by you, it was your continuous lack of work ethic that made him snap and put you in your place.
A firm hand gripped the hair at the crown of your head, bunched up in a fist at the root of your hair while the other hand worked you on his cock. Slamming your hips against his pelvis, splatters of your wetness leaving droplets on the side of the sofa, coating your inner thighs and his pelvis. Hongjoong was thankful for the sound proofness of his studio, your wailing and the sound of your messy pussy would be echoing down the company hallway if not for it.ย
โSuch a pretty voice. If only you could sound this pretty when I asked you to, you wouldn't be wasting my time and crying on my cock.โ Hongjoong pushes out through gritted teeth. The slide of him in your tight walls felt fucking magical he could nut in you then and there. But he had a lesson to teach.ย
โIโm s-s-orry,โ you manage to moan out. Probably the 35th time you've apologized since he pushed your face into the cold leather and split you open. Heโs so thick, the way he fills you up each time he punches his hips forwards, fucking bruises into the hinge where your upper thighs meets your lower abdomen on the arm of the couch, it's overwhelming in the best way possible.ย
He laughs a wicked laugh, โSpoiled brats like you are never sorry,โ he spits. โYou just don't want to suffer the consequences of your actions.โ He curls the fist in your hair tighter, making your scalp stings. You hiss, bringing a hand up from the couch cushion to grab at his wrist and alleviate the pain. You yelp and drop your hand back down when he just tugs harder, pulling your body up to hover parallel to the ground. The hand digging into your hip moves to your mouth, palm covering your lips, the side of his thumb resting right under your nose, the other four fingers curving around the side of your face digging into your cheek. He stops his brutal thrusts, only after shoving himself so far inside that you feel like he's inside your stomach.
Leaning down and pressing his lips right against your ear, his words send a pulsing throb straight to your clit, โI don't want to hear another apology come out of your pathetic mouth. All I want to hear is the pretty pitch of these slutty moans, got it princess?โ All you can do is attempt a nod, which seems good enough for him. He nips at your ear lob right before he pulls away and resuming sawing into you. Thank god it's easy for the moans to spill free through his palm, at this angle all words seem to disappear from your brain anyways.ย
He's deceptively strong, being able to hold your body up just by the hold he has on your hair and the press of his hand around your mouth. The tips of your fingers barely graze the arm of the couch as he rolls his hips into you. Your scalp stings, you already know you won't be able to wear extensions for awhile. Youโll have to come up with
an excuse for your stylist, definitely can't let them know you were fucking the producer your father hired.ย
He switches up the angle of his thrusts, making you jerk and clench around his cock particularly harder than you been, โOh fuck. There we go, baby. Keep clenching around this dick like that. Iโll be filling this pussy up in no time.โ The moan you let out sounds like it's not being muffled by his hand at all. The tightness in your tummy increased, that familiar feeling of an orgasm approaching at a dire speed. So fast you panic, wiggling to get away because it felt so intense, bordering on painful.ย
โJoong! Joong!โ You completely forget his order to stay quiet. He freezes and you could die right then and there.ย
He tuts, โDumb, dumb baby.โ Your heart slams in your chest, anxiety spiking at an all time high. What was he going to do? Not let you cum? Drag it out? Make you beg? All of it sounds like torture in this moment, you were so fucking close you wanted to do Hongjoong the honors and just slap yourself for being such an idiot.
He guides you back over the arm of the chair and removes the grip on your hair, but keeps his hand pressed tight against your mouth. โYouโre such a shit listener. I can't really blame you fully though, that's just how you were raised, huh? Getting everything you want, not having to really work for it.โ He runs a finger down the length of your spine to the dip in your lower back, dragging in to the side and around your waist to your front where he pinches your clit suddenly. You squeal and kick out your legs as much as you could with how close he was pressed against you. Unsurprisingly it doesn't deter him in the slightest, he keeps his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger in a tight squeeze around the nub.ย
The breathing through your nose gets quicker and quicker, try to take in as much oxygen as you can to calm yourself down. Hongjoong sighs, โThe only way to learn is to show you that if you don't do what youโre asked, you lose something in return.โย
Before you can even ponder what he means, your ability to breathe through your nose vanishes. The pressure around your nostrils is what alerts your sex dumb brain that his thumb from the hand still wrapped around your mouth has come up to pinch your nose shut with the edge of his index finger. Instincts kick in and you're shaking your head, trying to rip away the pressure against your face. But he just follows the jerks of your hand, eventually yanking you back by the face until your body is pressed long against him. Hooking his elbow around your shoulder and holding your back tight against his chest.
โYou breathe when I cum,โ He states with his lips pushed up against the side of your hair. The pressure of your face increases, wanting so badly to sob but your chest just jerks in small pulses. He keeps his angle, spearing directly into the spot that would make you scream if you could. You squeeze your thighs together tight, lungs burning, not knowing how much longer you have before you lose consciousness.ย
As for Hongjoong, he was seconds away from cumming before he even took your, literal, breath away. He may use extreme methods to whip a brat like you in shape, but he's not cruel.ย
The tightness of your thighs squeezing together, the pulsing of your slick walls around him, bends over with a deep groan, tapering off into a moan, โThat's right, make me cum. Listen for once in your life, cโmon princess. This one time, do as youโre told.โ He orders you as he rolls your clit lightly between his knuckles. Your eyes slip shut, pushing tears over your water line and down your cheeks. Your chest swells with pleasure and the pressure of losing oxygen. Fuzzy black and gray dots appear behind your eye lids, time starts feeling like it's moving slower.ย
All it takes is a singular clench around his cock and it's over for him. Heโs cumming deep inside you with a deep moan, and winded sounding โFuuuuuck,โ. He switches to pressing the pads of his index and middle finger to your clit, rubbing quick swipes along the bundle of nerves as he drops his hand from your mouth to resting lightly on your throat.
Oxygen rushes through your airway, the relief feels almost euphoric as the fluttering in your cunt from the way Hongjoong is playing with you so deliciously.
โPlease,โ Your hoarse voice begs. You know he has no reason to let you cum, but you hope that maybe he'll get caught up in the moment and let you anyway.
โHave you learned your lesson?โ He asks through his heavy breathing, biting through the over stimulation to feed you small thrusts.ย
โYes, Joong! I promise, Iโm sorry I swear! Iโll listen!โ You sob, nodding your head as fast as you could. Fuck youโre too cute. He wasnโt going to deny you an orgasm, it was never part of the plan, but your begging is so sweet. You sound genuinely concerned about what he's going to do.ย
โCum then, prove it. Prove that you're a good girl and not the spoiled brat that walked into my studio last week.โ The pressure on your clit increases a fraction and the bubble in your tummy pops, warm tingles spreading through your veins. The sound that comes out of you is broken and embarrassing but you don't care. How could you when you feel like you've been revived from the brink of death? By a sexy, broody, music producer no less?ย
ย The pattern of your breathing syncs up with his, grateful for the hold he has on you so your knees didn't have to kiss the floor.ย
Eventually he speaks, โYou gonna keep your word?โย
You scoff and let out a clipped laugh, โI dunno, I might need a reminder of why I should. Your methods are weak.โย
He snatches your jaw and turns your head to face him, eyes narrowed and hard. Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he taps your cheek. โPut your skirt back on. I want three more takes of the last two lines of the bridge. Make sure you elongate the last word of each line more, or we do it another three times.โ He raises an eyebrow before adding, โAnd if I have to re-teach this lesson there's not a chance in hell Iโm letting you cum.โ
๐๐ฒ๐ง๐จ๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ข๐ฌ ; Headcaons on how I view Hongjoong as a chief executive officer.
๐๐๐ข๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ฌ ; Ceo!Hongjoong x Wife!Reader.
โ โ ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ ๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐ญ : 306. โ โ ๐๐๐ง๐ซ๐ : Smut + Fluff. โ โ ๐๐๐ซ๐ง๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ฌ : Kisses, reassurance, childhood nickname, petnames, hand holding, missionary, praises, whimpering, softtop!joong, and you get to choose if you want a creampie or pull out. Itโs not specifically stated.
โก โ ๐๐ข๐ฉ ๐๐๐ญ๐๐ซ๐ฌ ; @kissmatz @eggielix @miisanthropology @liaaaafixofff @chanscappuccino @eunseoksgirl @threepointstogrifendor @fixon-min @groovyravenagain @matznana @smuttaburger @barbtiny @yeosangholic1 @maliabobea15 @pyuddings @mourninglizzy send a ask to be added or removed!
A/N โ Been on a soft joong streak, i donโt know what else to tell you.
Ceo!hongjoong who prioritizes you over his own work and company. He doesnโt care if heโs in the middle of a meeting, if you called. Heโd come.
Ceo!hongjoong who always keeps a picture of your wedding showcased on his desk, always glancing at you and your smile for motivation on why he keeps working.
Ceo!hongjoong who doesnโt care about his public appearance, if youโre feeling overwhelmed heโll kiss your temple or forehead while whispering sweet and soft reassuring words to try to help make you feel better.
Ceo!hongjoong who keeps a keychain if your childhood nickname engraved into it.
Ceo!hongjoong who always looks at you like you hung the moon, even when youโre at home doing nothing. Because to him, youโre not just his wife. Youโre his good luck charm.
Ceo!hongjoong who always referrers to you as โmy angelโ whenever heโs calling for you, or simply even talking about you to others.
โ โIโm busy.โ โIโm sorry..โ โOh! No, my baby. You stay.โ
Ceo!hongjoong who prefers to hold hands while in missionary, it brings him that emotional closeness he needs after a long day.
Ceo!hongjoong who trails soft kisses across your collarbone, whispering โmy sweet, pretty girlโ with each thrust of his hips.
Ceo!hongjoong who whimpers and arches his back whenever he feels you clench around him. The pleasure ends up being unbearable for him.
Ceo!hongjoong who hold your legs up so he can go as deep as possible inside your cunt, always right before his strokes become sloppy and needy.
Ceo!hongjoong who presses on your lower stomach out of habit to encourage you to try to match his timing.
Ceo!hongjoong who whines and moans โpleaseโ over and over a few moments before he cums, even though heโs the one in complete control over the situation.
