Pairing: Matz x Reader
Word Count: 4.8K
Genre: Gothic Romance, Thriller, Smut
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities
a/n: In the interest of all hallows eve I offer you my first attempt at gothic romance. This was inspired by Mary Shelleys Frankenstein
He has created what he thinks is perfection and you have ruined it all
The rain had not ceased for three nights. It drummed against the iron shutters and trickled down the glass in silver veins, a heartbeat against the silence of the house. When you woke, your wrists were bound—not cruelly, but carefully, as if someone feared you might hurt yourself before understanding why you were here.
The room smelled of ozone and candle wax. Shadows of strange machinery loomed against the walls—coils of copper wire, glass tubes glowing faintly blue, and a table stained with something dark and sticky.
And then he stepped from the corner. Dr Kim Hongjoong.
He was small in stature, but his presence filled the air like static before lightning. His eyes burned with sleepless brilliance, pupils like pinpricks of black glass. “You’re awake,” he said softly, almost reverently. “Good. You’re the one I’ve been waiting for.”
You struggled against the bindings. “Where am I?”
“A sanctuary,” Hongjoong murmured, circling the table. His hands were covered in thin leather gloves, streaked with soot. “And a tomb, depending on what you make of it.”
Your gaze darted toward the door, but it was sealed with iron bolts. “You can’t keep me here.”
“I can,” he said simply. “And I must. You’ll understand soon.”
He gestured to the far end of the room, where a shape lay under a linen sheet. Human in form, motionless. Candlelight flickered across its outline—a shoulder, the suggestion of a face too perfect to belong to something dead.
“Do you believe,” Hongjoong asked quietly, “that love can resurrect a soul?”
You stared at him, horror curdling your blood. “What have you done?”
“What was necessary,” he said. “The world is filled with cruelty and ignorance. So I built something better—someone better. But he is… incomplete. He has strength, grace, even thought—but not warmth. Not feeling. Not a heart that beats for another.”
He stopped beside you, his expression softening into something that looked almost like pity. “That is where you come in.”
Lightning flared through the window, and the sheet on the other table moved. A sound—ragged, wet, uncertain—escaped the thing beneath it. You gasped, every muscle freezing as Hongjoong’s lips curved into a smile both triumphant and mournful.
“He wakes,” he whispered. “My beloved creation. My Seonghwa.”
When the sheet slid away, you saw a young man—beautiful, terrible in his stillness. His eyes opened: silver-grey, as if they reflected the storm itself. For a long moment, he looked at nothing. Then his gaze found you.
And something—something achingly human—flickered there.
Hongjoong stepped between him and you, his voice fevered. “You see? He recognizes you already. You are the key. The warmth he needs to become whole.”
You shook her head, trembling. “You can’t force someone to love.”
“No,” Hongjoong agreed, tilting his head. “But you can build the conditions for it. You can create love—just as I created life.”
Outside, thunder rolled like divine laughter, and within the manor’s flickering glow, Seonghwa drew a slow, shuddering breath—his first.
Your heartbeat echoed through the silence, and for the first time, Hongjoong’s smile faltered, as if he too realized what he had truly unleashed.
You remained rooted to your spot on the floor, fear rendering you incapable of movement as Seonghwa took a step towards you only to be intercepted by Dr Hongjoong who gently guided his precious creation towards the door sliding the heavy iron bolt against its casing the sharp drag of the metal loud in the quietness that blanketed you between the claps of thunder.
Hongjoong turned back to you momentarily “I will return for you when I need you.” He and Seonghwa disappeared into the darkness on the other side of the door, the hard thud of it closing again and the scrape of metal that followed Hongjoong locking the other side leaving you alone in the suffocating fear and heavy silence of a room you were desperate to escape.
Weeks passed. You only saw Hongjoong. He returned to move you to a room that you were instructed to call your own, a room that served as a nicer cage but still a cage to trap you. Hongjoong had said it was “for your safety,” but the lock on the outside told another story.
There he delivered you food, an occasional book and occasionally to discuss that you would teach his Seonghwa how to emote and love but nothing more. Nothing dispelled your fear or revulsion at what was expected from you but there was little you could do. Escape was impossible without injuring yourself and you did not know where he had taken you in the first place. Winter continued on, your life however did not.
The storms had quieted, but the air inside the manor still thrummed with the echo of it. Every candle flickered as if haunted by the memory of lightning. You sat in the same chair in the elegantly decorated parlor where Hongjoong had left you, wrists now free but too numb to run. Your hopelessness left you broken.
Across from you, Seonghwa stood—alive in the most disquieting sense of the word. His skin gleamed like porcelain beneath the candlelight, too flawless, too still. His eyes moved with unsteady curiosity, as if the world around him were a dream he hadn’t yet learned to interpret.
“Do you know what you are?” Hongjoong’s voice was low, almost tender as he approached his creation.
Seonghwa turned toward him, confusion knitting his perfect brow. “I... feel,” he said slowly, the words forming as if they were foreign on his tongue. “But I don’t understand what it means.”
Hongjoong smiled—a small, sharp thing. “It means I succeeded.” His gaze flicked briefly to you, who watched them with wide, wary eyes. “And she will help you to understand the rest.”
Seonghwa’s head tilted toward you. The movement was almost childlike, yet the intensity in his stare was far from innocent. He stepped closer—hesitant, reverent—his shadow stretching long across the stone floor.
Your breath caught. There was nothing monstrous about him, and yet every part of your body screamed that he should not exist.
“You’re afraid,” Seonghwa murmured. His voice was soft, almost mournful. “Your heart beats so fast.”
“Stay back,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.
He obeyed—but only for a moment. His hand rose, as though drawn by instinct, hovering inches from you cheek. “You’re warm,” he said, wonder lacing his tone. “I can feel it even without touching you.”
Hongjoong watched, still as a blade poised to strike. There was something fractured in his gaze—adoration twisted with envy. “Seonghwa,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “Remember what I told you. She is your mirror. Through her, you learn. You do not desire.”
Seonghwa turned toward him. “But I do.”
The air snapped between them—like the moment before lightning hits.
Hongjoong’s smile faltered. He placed a gloved hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder, but the creature’s expression darkened, the faintest flicker of rebellion kindling in his eyes. “You made me feel,” Seonghwa whispered. “You gave me breath. But I think... I think you gave me too much.”
The candles hissed as if in protest. Hongjoong’s composure cracked for the briefest instant. “You mistake obsession for emotion. She is not yours.”
“And she is not yours either,” Seonghwa said, voice trembling between awe and defiance.
Your pulse roared in your ears as both men—one playing god, one his creation—turned their attention on you. The weight of their gazes was unbearable, electric.
Hongjoong’s expression softened into something almost desperate. “You see what you’ve done?” he whispered to you, his tone somewhere between accusation and plea. “You’ve ruined him already. He was perfect until you looked at him.”
You shook her head in confusion. “I didn’t do anything—”
“No,” he interrupted, voice rising, raw. “You exist. That is enough.”
The flicker of thunder outside threw their faces into violent light—Hongjoong’s wild and trembling, Seonghwa’s serene and tragic. The world seemed to hold its breath.
And then, softly, Seonghwa said your name for the first time.
It was the sound of devotion and defiance all at once. Hongjoong flinched as if struck.
“Get away from her,” he hissed, his hand trembling as it reached for his creation. But Seonghwa didn’t move. His gaze stayed fixed on you, and when he spoke again, it was with a quiet certainty that chilled the air between them.
“She’s the only real thing in this house.”
You swallowed hard watching the tension simmer further Seonghwa seemingly lost in the desperation to touch you and Hongjoong’s barely veiled fury that Seonghwa dared to defy his word. Hongjoong stepped towards you making you shrink back in fear a flicker of anger crossed Seonghwa’s intense gaze, but the anger was not directed at you but at his maker. The moment lasted a heartbeat before he agreed, allowing Hongjoong to take him from the room, leaving you again alone until Hongjoong would return and turn his rage on you.
The manor slept uneasily. Its walls groaned with the weight of age, and every candle burned lower, as though the house itself feared what it was harboring. Months had now passed and you were now sure that you would never return to the life you once knew you would remain in the room you had been given. Hongjoong began providing you with clothing, shabby and well worn but clean at least limiting your contact with Seonghwa unless it was considered, by him, as necessary.
Sometimes, when you could not sleep, you heard footsteps pacing the corridor. Slow, deliberate, almost human.
And then one night, the lock turned and the door opened.
He entered silently, his silhouette framed by the pale blue glow of the night outside. Seonghwa.
He no longer moved with the hesitant wonder of a newborn. There was a precision to him now, an awareness in every motion. He had been watching, learning—especially you.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, sitting up covering your nightgown clad frame with bedsheets. “If he finds you—”
“He already knows,” Seonghwa said quietly. “He always knows.”
He stepped closer, and you could see how his expression had changed since that first night. He looked… older, somehow. Sharper at the edges. The innocence had begun to decay into something more human—curiosity and ache.
“I wanted to see you,” he said simply. “When I close my eyes, I hear your heartbeat. I don’t think I’m supposed to, but I do.”
Your breath hitched. “You’re not supposed to feel anything. That’s what he said.”
A faint smile touched Seonghwa’s lips. “He built me to understand love—but not to experience it. How foolish.” His voice softened, almost wistful. “You can’t study warmth and not burn.”
He reached out, fingers trembling slightly before brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was tentative, reverent—as though he feared you might dissolve beneath it. His skin was cold, yet there was something alive beneath the surface, like the faint hum of an awakening storm.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured. “You look at me as if I’m human. Even when you’re afraid.”
“Because you are,” you said, surprising yourself with the conviction in your own voice.
Something flickered in his eyes—pain, perhaps, or hope. “He says I’m a mirror,” Seonghwa whispered. “That I only reflect what you show me. But I don’t want to be a reflection.”
He turned away then, his jaw tightening. “He watches me like I’m a thing. He touches the marks on my skin as if he’s still molding me. I hate it.”
Your chest tightened at the tremor in his voice. “You can leave,” you whispered softly. “You don’t have to stay with him.”
Seonghwa gave a low, bitter laugh. “Leave? And go where? I have no name outside of this place, no purpose but the one he forced into me.” He looked back at you, eyes dark with something feral. “Except you.”
The door slammed open before you could speak.
Hongjoong stood there, pale with burning fury. “Seonghwa,” he said, voice cold enough to still the air. “You forget yourself.”
“I remember too much,” Seonghwa replied, stepping protectively in front of you.
Hongjoong’s gaze cut like a kinfe. “You were made from my hand. Every vein, every thought—mine. You owe me.”
Seonghwa’s lip curled, the faintest tremor of rage shattering his perfect calm. “Then you should have made me hollow. But you didn’t.”
For the first time, Hongjoong looked afraid.
The candles guttered and died in a sudden gust, leaving only the light of the moon through the window—illuminating Seonghwa’s cold defiance, Hongjoong’s trembling wrath, and your wide, terrified eyes caught between them.
When the darkness settled again, Seonghwa’s voice was a whisper that could have been a prayer or a curse.
“I think, creator, you’ve built your own ruin.”
Seonghwa eventually broke the stalemate retreating from your room followed by Hongjoong who only paused to look back at you with loathing and contempt. The silence broken by the click of the lock on your door and the sound of fading footsteps.
You could not find the comfort of sleep that night. The unease of how vengeful Hongjoong had been left you worried he would return to punish you but he never did. Only when the sounds of the birds waking in the trees outside did you finally allow yourself to relax drifting into a fitful slumber.
Hongjoong’s laboratory no longer smelled of creation. The air was stale with burned dust and candle smoke, the scent of obsession decaying into madness. He stood before the broken apparatus that had once been the heart of his genius, his gloves trembling as he adjusted the knobs and wires that no longer answered to him. The machines hissed and sparked, indifferent to their maker’s fury.
“You forget what you are,” he muttered, though his words were meant for someone who wasn’t there. “You forget who made you.”
Hongjoong knew that every night, Seonghwa vanished. Every morning, he found traces of him—mud at the back door, a candle burned to its base in the east hall, a thread of long black hair near the locked room where you slept.
And every time, rage boiled higher beneath his ribs.
He told himself he was still in control, that the experiment had merely evolved beyond expectation. But when he caught Seonghwa’s eyes across the room—those silver-grey mirrors of stormlight—he saw defiance staring back.
And worse, longing.
“Come here,” Hongjoong commanded one evening, his voice the precise edge of a scalpel. “You’ve been straying. Tell me where you go at night.”
Seonghwa didn’t answer. He stood motionless, his gaze distant. There was a quiet to him now that unnerved even his creator—a quiet full of thought.
“I said come here,” Hongjoong hissed.
At last, Seonghwa moved, slow and deliberate. “I go,” he said softly, “to remember that I am alive.”
Hongjoong’s gloved hand cracked across his face, the sound sharp as splitting glass. “You are alive because of me,” he snarled. “Every heartbeat, every flicker of thought is mine.”
Seonghwa turned his head back slowly, the mark on his cheek catching the candlelight. “Then perhaps you should have made me without a heart,” he murmured. “It seems to disobey you.”
For a moment, Hongjoong could only stare, horror and fascination warring in his expression. Then he turned away, voice trembling with something close to despair. “You’ll destroy everything I’ve built.”
Seonghwa’s reply was almost gentle. “You already did.”
Later that night, when Hongjoong finally slept again. Rain whispered against the windows like secret voices.
The lock on your door clicked softly.
You rose from your bed, pulse quickening even before you saw him—tall, silent, eyes glinting faintly in the darkness.
“Seonghwa…” you breathed, concerned by his presence.
“Quiet,” he whispered, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “He’s awake half the night now. He suspects.”
He carried a lantern this time, its dim flame trembling against his face. He looked almost human in the light—haunted, tender, and terribly beautiful.
“You shouldn’t risk it,” you said. “If he catches you—”
“Then he’ll kill me, probably,” Seonghwa said simply. “But I won’t let him cage you any longer.”
He crossed the room and reached for your hand. His skin was still cool, but no longer lifeless. There was a faint tremor there—a pulse trying to learn how to beat.
“I found a way out,” he whispered. “There’s a passage beneath the east wing. Old foundations—half collapsed, but it leads to the forest.”
You looked up at him, fear and what you thought might be hope colliding in your chest. “Why are you helping me?”
He hesitated, his expression softening with something achingly human. “Because when you look at me, I forget what he made me from. I forget I’m just a mistake stitched together. You make me want to be more.”
Your heart twisted. “And you’ll come with me?”
“I’ll try,” he said, his voice low. “But if he finds me before then… promise you’ll still run.”
Outside, thunder rumbled faintly, distant but returning. The storm was never gone for long here.
He lifted your hand to his lips—not to kiss it, but to feel the warmth against his mouth, to remind himself what he was fighting for.
From somewhere deep in the house came the echo of footsteps—slow, deliberate, knowing.
Hongjoong.
Seonghwa’s eyes darkened. He released your hand and stepped back into the shadows. “Tomorrow,” he whispered. “When I come for you.”
And then he was gone, leaving you alone with the echo of his promise—and the uneasy knowledge that before dawn, the creator would come to reclaim what he believed was still his.
A storm broke just before midnight, the steady regularity of the violent weather mirroring the turmoil within you
Thunder rolled so close it made the windowpanes tremble, and the manor shuddered with every pulse of lightning. You had barely slept since Seonghwa’s last visit — every creak in the hall made your heart leap with dread and hope alike.
This time, it was dread.
The door burst inward with a crash that shook dust from the beams. Hongjoong stood there — drenched from the rain, coat clinging to his frame, eyes bright with the kind of fever that knows no reason.
“So,” he said softly, though his voice trembled with rage, “you’ve turned him against me.”
You stumbled back, pulse pounding. “I didn’t— I haven’t”
“Don’t lie to me!” His hand slammed against the wall, a violent crack echoing through the room. “He was perfect until you. Now he questions, he hesitates, he—” His words caught on a breath that sounded almost like a sob. “He looks at you as if you’re his creator.”
You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You made him human, Dr Hongjoong. He’s only becoming what you wanted him to be.”
“No,” he snarled, stepping closer. “I made him beautiful. Controlled. Obedient.” His gloved hand caught your wrist, wrenching you toward him. “You don’t get to unmake him!”
Pain flared; you cried out, struggling, but he only pulled you closer. His expression was wild now — hatred and longing twisted into one unbearable thing. “Do you think he loves you?” he whispered, trembling. “He can’t. He’s an echo. My echo.”
“Then why are you afraid of him?” you gasped.
The question froze him — just long enough.
Because then another voice spoke, deep and quiet and shaking with restrained fury.
“Let her go.”
Hongjoong turned. Lightning split the window behind Seonghwa’s figure, bathing him in white fire. His eyes gleamed like tempered steel.
Hongjoong’s grip on you tightened. “You came back,” he breathed, half laughing. “Good. You can watch me remind her what she’s meddling with—”
He didn’t finish.
Seonghwa crossed the room faster than a heartbeat, and the impact sent Hongjoong crashing into the wall. The sound of breaking glass, a grunt of pain, the lantern toppling and rolling across the floor. Shadows leapt and twisted like wild spirits.
“Don’t touch her,” Seonghwa said, voice low and trembling with emotion. “Don’t ever touch her again.”
Hongjoong staggered up, blood running from his temple, and laughed — a sound cracked and hollow. “You think you can protect her from me? You are me!”
Seonghwa seized him by the collar and slammed him back again, fury shattering the calm perfection of his face. “No. I am what you could never be.”
For a moment, silence — except the storm.
Then Seonghwa looked to you, eyes softening. “Go. Now.”
You hesitated, torn between terror and concern. “What about—”
“I’ll find you,” he promised. “I swear it.”
Hongjoong’s hand reached toward a shard of glass, his voice breaking with a mix of rage and despair. “You can’t leave me, either of you! I gave you life!”
Seonghwa turned his face toward him — pity flickering in his expression like a dying flame. “And I’m giving it meaning.”
He struck Hongjoong once more, hard enough that the older man crumpled, breath rasping in the flickering light. The storm swallowed the sound.
Then Seonghwa took your hand, fingers trembling — not with fear, but with urgency, with life. “Come,” he whispered. “Before he wakes.”
And as you fled down the dark corridor, past the rooms filled with broken inventions and dying candles, the manor itself seemed to wail — as if the walls knew that the creature had turned on his maker, and that love, once kindled, could burn down even the hands that had created it.
The darkness swallowed you whole.
Rain lashed like whips across the night, wind tearing at your hair, at the tatters of Seonghwa’s shirt as you ran. Behind you, the manor loomed like a dying god — its windows burning faintly with the light of collapsing aspirations.
Seonghwa’s hand gripped yours, firm but trembling. Every breath came with effort, though he never faltered. He was not meant for the cold; the rain hissed against his skin as though the sky itself rejected what Hongjoong had made.
“Keep going,” he urged, voice ragged. “There’s a road beyond the trees.”
You stumbled, mud pulling at your feet. He caught you before you fell, his arms strong around you, his face inches from yours. His eyes — silver in the lightning’s flash — softened. “I won’t let him take you back,” he said.
You could barely speak for the wind. “He’ll follow us.”
“I know.”
He looked back once, toward the burning glow of the manor’s upper windows. Even through the distance and the rain, he could almost feel Hongjoong’s fury like a pulse in the earth.
You reached the tree line, branches clawing at you as you plunged deeper into the woods. The storm roared overhead, but here the world narrowed to darkness and breath.
When at last you paused, you leaned against him, gasping. He pressed a hand against your cheek, thumb brushing away the rain.
“You’re freezing,” he murmured.
“So are you.”
He smiled faintly. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be.”
For a moment, the chaos of the night faded. His forehead rested against yours, and between the thunderclaps, you could hear the slow, uncertain rhythm inside his chest — not steady, but real.
“Seonghwa…” you whispered.
He looked at you as though trying to memorize your face, every trembling breath of you. “If I die tonight,” he said softly, “know that you were the only thing that made me alive.”
Your reply caught in her throat as Seonghwa pressed his cold lips against yours, the softness of them stilling your mind for a moment before his need to prove to you that you were the only reason for his humanity took root in him. His hands grasped at your waist urgently dragging you against him and causing you to stumble. Like the storm raging around you your heart was equally violently beating in your chest at the possibility that there was more for you outside of the past year that you had been confined.
His lips barely left yours when you heard his mumble “Let me show you how alive You have made me.” He lifted you easily, pressing you against the rough tree trunk behind you, his lips moving to press to your throat as he unceremoniously bunched your skirt and petticoats up around your hips, the drenched fabric hanging heavily. “Tell me that you do not want this and I will stop” he pleaded, sounding almost anguished.
“Seonghwa” you swallowed hard as you felt him tear your underwear away before he stopped briefly to let his ethereal grey eyes meet yours his adoration and devotion so easily discerned that you did not say another word allowing him to sheath himself inside you, bottoming out with a loud groan. “Oh Seonghwa” you cried out at the feeling of being stretched so fully, his cock splitting your walls apart with a delicious painful pleasure.
“Your so warm” he shuddered his hips snapping against you forcing your body to bounce against the bark behind you each thrust making you forget how cold you had been only minutes ago, Fire began burning in the pit of your stomach, only to spread rapidly when Seonghwa lifted your legs further to allow you to wrap them around his lithe waist changing the angle of his assault on your now slick folds. His lips claiming yours once more.
The gasps and whimpers that fell from your lips were either stolen by the storm around you or swallowed by Seonghwa himself “Seonghwa please” you whispered as he broke his kiss from you again his eyes squeezing shut as he began snapping his hips against you more harshly the realization that you would be free, that he had saved you and how much pleasure that he was now giving you finally snapped making you scream out his name as your walls spasmed and clenched around him your vision going white for a moment before returning only as Seonghwa pulled himself from you and lent it to kiss you one last time.
Helping you back to your feet and adjusting your clothes he stopped to listen to the storm for a moment “we must keep going.” You continued through the trees, your legs still shaking as you reached the road, muddy and desolately silent.
“Which way, Seonghwa?” you breathed hard looking to your left and seeing nothing but darkness until lightning lit up the sky around you once more showing an endless march of trees ahead of you.
“That way.” He pointed ahead of you and took your hand once again as you both continued against the rain and wailing winds until your legs finally gave out.
“Seonghwa, I’m sorry” you whimpered as you stumbled falling against the rough stone, the still thick forest of trees not looking any different from where you had come from. “I need to rest.”
Seonghwa’s reply did not come— because the woods shuddered with another sound. Footsteps. Metal dragging against the stone of the road somewhere behind you.
A voice carried through the rain, half-shouted, half-broken.
“Seonghwa!”
Hongjoong.
You turned — and he was there at the crest of the road, soaked, blood running down his temple, eyes wild with devotion turned rancid. In one hand he held a length of iron, torn from his laboratory, glowing faintly with the charge of his machines.
“You think you can leave me?” he shouted. “Both of you — you’re mine! My creation, my design, my sin!”
Seonghwa pushed you behind him. “Don’t come closer.”
Hongjoong laughed, a sound that cracked like lightning. “You can’t threaten me. You are me!”
He lunged, iron sparking through the rain. The clash was sudden and terrible — Seonghwa catching his arm, the charge burning his skin, steam rising where it met water. They struggled in the mud, two silhouettes locked in chaos, lightning freezing them in flashes of silver and red.
“Why?” Hongjoong gasped, his voice breaking as Seonghwa forced him down. “I made you perfect!”
“You made me empty,” Seonghwa spat, his hands slick with blood — his own or his creator’s, he couldn’t tell. “And then you taught me how to want.”
The iron rod struck again, wild and desperate. Seonghwa caught it, drove it aside, and the movement drove the sharp end into both of them — Hongjoong’s chest, Seonghwa’s shoulder. The sound was sickeningly final.
Hongjoong froze, eyes wide, rain running over his face like tears. For a heartbeat, the world was silent but for the storm.
Then both men crumpled.
You fell to her knees beside Seonghwa, shaking. He reached for your hand, his breath shallow, lips trembling with the ghost of a smile.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “You’re free now.”
You pressed her hand against the wound, desperate, helpless. “No, no, please—”
Hongjoong’s voice came from the mud, faint and broken. “He was… beautiful,” he murmured, eyes unfocused on the sky. “I only wanted… to make something… that would love me.”
Then he was still.
Seonghwa’s fingers tightened weakly around yours. “Do you think…” He coughed, crimson staining his lips. “…monsters get to love?”
Tears mixed with the rain on her face. “Of course they do,” you whispered, “you already have.”
He smiled once — a fragile, luminous thing — before the storm took the rest of his breath.
When dawn came, the manor was nothing but smoke on the horizon, and you were alone beneath the weeping trees — holding the hand of the creature who had become more human than the man who made him, and the only one that had deserved to be loved.
a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies your support and love means the world to me xx
summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, gang related activity, and murder; five things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.
pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader.
warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.
word count: 12.5k.
author’s note: omg i was not as close to being done as i thought i was. there was so much i didn’t add to this chapter, yk i like to leave every chapter at a cliff hanger but i’ve been writing this since i got off work yesterday and just said fuck it lmaooo. i got no sleep, so forgive me if there are errors. i’ll have to reread when I have time and my eyes aren’t groggy as dick rn.
Your eyes fluttered open, a searing ache echoing through your head the second consciousness hit. Groaning, you instinctively turned to check the bedside clock, only to find an empty space next to you where your nightstand should be. This wasn’t your room. Then, last night came rushing back like a tidal wave. Yoongi. You were at his warehouse, a fact that became entirely real as a solid, radiating warmth shifted next to you. Turning your head, you found the raven haired man fast asleep. You could have sworn the two of you had dozed off on the couch, yet somehow, you were waking up in his bed. He must’ve carried you from the couch to his room last night.
You watched him for a moment, tracking the steady rise and fall of his chest in his slumber, his dark locks splayed across the pillow. Even in sleep, he was ethereal. But none of that mattered right now—you didn’t have the luxury of time to admire him. All you wanted was to slip out undetected and go home, even if it meant walking until you hit a bus stop.
You slowly crept from the bed, careful not to disturb him. Thankfully, you were still in your dress, saving you the trouble of getting ready, but the bare, chilly absence beneath your hem was a stark reminder of what was missing. Your panties. You scanned the floor, searching for a flash of white cotton, but your undergarments were nowhere to be found. Just then, a faint memory sparked; they were probably still out in the living room.
You tiptoed to the door, your hand hovering just over the handle. Before you could turn it, a deep, raspy morning voice cut through the silence behind you. “Usually, I’m the one sneaking out of a woman’s room.” You froze. Turning back, you found Yoongi still tangled in the sheets, his attention fixed entirely on you. A slow smirk played on his lips. “It’s an interesting change to see it done to me.”
You sighed, dropping your shoulders as you backed away from the door. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to wake you,” you said, awkwardly rubbing your arm. Yoongi sat up, his dark hair messy around his face. He carelessly brushed the strands back with his fingers, his eyes tracking your nervous movements. “Yeah, well,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. “You’re not very good at it.”
“Sorry…” you muttered again.
Yoongi stared at you in silence, his penetrating gaze reading your expression. “So, what? You planned on sneaking out and walking all the way through Gongdan to get home?” he asked, his voice deadpan but laced with genuine disbelief. “Why didn’t you just ask me for a ride?”
You shrugged, trying to sound a lot more casual than you felt. “I just thought I’d take a bus. I have work today... and plans after that. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Bullshit,” he said, a low scowl settling on his face. “I know you don’t work today, y/n.”
The realization hit you with a cold drop in your stomach—he knew your schedule. How could you have forgotten that? Thanks a lot Jin. Yoongi shifted, his dissecting eyes locking onto yours with complete austerity. “Be honest with me. You regret what we did last night?”
You pulled your bottom lip inward, scrambling for a response. If you were being honest with yourself, the sobriety didn't change a thing—you didn't regret it. You liked it. A lot, actually. You could still feel the phantom warmth of his touch humming under your skin, but reality quickly pushed its way back into the room. Nothing could ever come of this. “Can you just… stop now?” you whispered, looking anywhere but at him. Refusing to give him an answer, you clutched your arms tight around yourself.
“Stop what?” he pressed, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet register.
“This,” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could hold them back. “You got everything you wanted. You wanted me to come to your party, I did. You wanted me to go to the fair, I did. You wanted to fuck me and take my virginity, you did. Now you can stop coming around. You can just let me live my life as it was and work on my relationship with Jungkook.”
A fierce glare twisted Yoongi's features, his expression darkening into something unrecognizable. He poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, staring you down with terrifying coldness.
“You think pussy is all I wanted from you?”
The raw bluntness of the question sliced straight through your armor. You weren’t stupid. Sana had been there before you, and she’d made it perfectly clear; Yoongi didn’t do feelings. He took what he wanted and left the wreckage behind. You had absolutely no intention of ruining things with Jungkook for a single, chaotic night with a man who could never belong to anyone. Shoving your feelings down deep, you braced yourself and looked him in the eyes. “It doesn't matter what I think because this can’t happen again. Please, just take me home, Yoongi.”
“I'm not taking you anywhere, y/n.”
“Fine. I'll walk then,” you retorted, turning on your heel. You reached blindly for the doorknob, but before your fingers could even curl around the metal, Yoongi was out of bed.
He caught you in a heartbeat, the solid weight of his body slamming your back hard against the wood of the door. Before you could even gasp, his hands came up to cup either side of your face, his lips smashing against yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. You fought against him, your palms flat against the front of his white shirt as you tried to shove him back, but he didn't give you an inch. He held you pinned, taking everything you tried to withhold. Gradually, the desperate fight drained from your limbs. Your resistance shattered, and you melted against him, unable to fight the intoxicating pull of his mouth any longer.
Yoongi pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss just enough to catch his breath. He kept his forehead pressed firmly against yours, his thumbs still tracing your cheekbones. Both of you were breathing heavily, the air between you thick.
“I told you before,” he rasped, his voice dropping to a low, intense tone that vibrated straight through you. “I don’t just want you sexually. I want all of you.”
You stared into his dark eyes, searching them as if you could read the secrets he kept so tightly guarded. You needed a crack in his armor, anything to prove this was all a lie.
“Why me, Yoongi?” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat. “There are other women out there. Endless options. So why me?”
Yoongi didn't blink. His gaze locked onto yours, unyielding and heavier than before. “Because you're not like other women.”
You didn’t believe that for a single second. You were exactly like other women—at least the ones Yoongi probably dealt with. You definitely weren’t the first girl he’d met who had folded in his presence, and you certainly weren't the first to cheat on a significant other with him. You had always prided yourself on never being that kind of person. You were supposed to be the loyal one, the safe choice. But now? The truth tasted bitter in your mouth.
You were a cheater.
“I'm with Jungkook,” you reminded him, the words flying out like a shield you were desperately trying to hold up. But you knew he didn't need the reminder.
Yoongi simply didn't care.
“I thought you told me he wasn't your boyfriend yet,” he rumbled, his breath brushing warm against your lips.
“Official or not, the point still stands.”
“Does it?” he questioned.
His hands slid away from your face, leaving a trail of heat as they moved downward, roaming slowly up your waist. You caught your breath as his fingers snagged the material of your dress, intentionally lifting it in the process, his touch burning right through the barrier. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your jaw as he spoke, the bluntness of his words hitting like a physical touch. “Do you still feel me inside of you? My fingers, my cock, my cum?”
A hot shiver raced down your spine. Your thighs shook under the slide of his hands, your legs trembling so badly they felt like they could no longer support your weight. He was wholly undoing you. “You know what you're gonna do?” Yoongi kept going, his voice a low, toxic purr designed to shatter whatever pride you had left.
“You're gonna go home to your little boyfriend, you're gonna sit and watch your little movies on the couch, and you're gonna think about how I fucked you on top of mine. How I had you saying my name.”
He pressed himself harder into you, your back grinding against the door as he forced you to feel the solid, thick length of his erection pressing right against your thighs. “Y-Yoongi... I can't…” you whimpered, your head tossing back against the wood, your mind spinning into a total frenzy.
“And when you do think about me,” he whispered, lips now brushing yours, utterly unwavering, “you're gonna come right back, and I'm gonna fuck you again on my couch.”
You let out an involuntary moan, your hands clinging to his shirt for support as your knees threatened to buckle. The friction between you was suffocating, but you forced your eyes open to meet his.
“What is it that you want from me, Yoongi?” you asked, the raw honesty of the question bleeding into the quiet room. You genuinely wanted to know if this was just some game to him.
Yoongi went entirely still. The ruthless smirk faded from his lips, his expression turning intensely serious as his forehead pressed back against yours.
“I wanna give you everything this world has to offer.”
You curled up in your bed, your arms wrapped around your pillow as you compressed it against your chest. The pillowcase smelled faintly of your regular life, of laundry detergent and regimen, but everything felt wrong. Yoongi’s words were still ringing in your ears, a permanent echo that made it impossible to breathe normally. You were back where you were supposed to be, but you felt out of place.
You wanted to call Mina, needing someone to vent to about last night, but you knew it wasn't a good idea. Sure, Mina had been pushing you to sleep with someone else since Jungkook was taking his sweet time, but she would rather hear a story about you losing your virginity to Jimin—maybe even Hoseok. Honestly, anyone but Yoongi.
Part of you felt the same. Anyone but Yoongi.
Biting your bottom lip, you reached across the nightstand for your phone. It unlocked instantly with Face ID, and you tapped open the phone app. Yoongi’s call sat directly at the top of your recent logs—just a raw, nameless phone number. You tapped it and scrolled straight to the block option.
You could be entirely rid of him right now. Truthfully, you had never actually tried to just ignore him and see what happened. You were always so quick to give in, so quick to say yes, trapped by the suffocating feeling that he would never take no for an answer anyway.
Just as you were about to tap the button and block him, the phone buzzed against your palm. You swiped open the notification, a single new message staring back at you from the nameless number—almost as if he knew exactly what you were planning to do.
“Think about what I said, sweetheart.”
You stared at the screen for five agonizing minutes, the text burning into your mind.
Everything this world has to offer…
He had said those exact words to you at the fair, too.
But you didn’t deserve everything this world had to offer. That was a privilege reserved for people who didn’t cheat.
You scoffed, tossing your phone back onto the nightstand, not bothering to respond. Pulling the pillow up tightly against your face, you buried yourself in the fabric and let out a smothered screech.
You had never thought you’d be the girl caught between two men. You had never imagined there was a guy on earth who could actually cloud your judgment when it came to Jungkook.
Then Yoongi had come barreling into your life like a hurricane, relentlessly pressing until you simply couldn't fight him anymore, and you finally gave in.
You pulled the pillow away from your face, clutching it back against your breastbone as you stared up at the blank, shadowed ceiling. Maybe things could go back to normal after tonight. You desperately needed to believe they could.
You closed your eyes and tried to conjure the memory of a typical night with Jungkook—the comforting smell of buttered popcorn, a movie playing softly in the background, and the two of you curled up in each other’s arms on the couch just like you always did. It was a routine built on quiet certainty. There were no chaotic parties, no choking clouds of marijuana smoke, and no burning alcohol to blur the lines between right and wrong. Just safety. Just him.
But the image felt fragile now, like a photograph left out in the rain. Every time you tried to picture Jungkook’s steady, reassuring smile, Yoongi’s voice would echo in your mind, sharp and demanding, shattering the peace. You were trying to cling to a version of yourself that didn’t exist anymore. How could you sit on that couch and look Jungkook in the eye, pretending your hands were clean, when the ghost of Yoongi’s touch still felt practically branded onto your skin?
Your phone abruptly rang, shattering the quiet and snapping you back to reality. You grabbed it from the nightstand, your eyes darting to the contact name lighting up the screen.
‘Kookie Cake 🍪🍰’
Jungkook was calling. Hopefully, he was ringing to tell you he was finally on his way over to your place. Right now, you wanted nothing more than to drop the pillow and wrap your arms around him, holding him close enough to make the rest of the world vanish.
You swiped the screen, your thumb trembling slightly as you brought the phone to your ear.
“Hey,” you murmured, trying to force your voice to sound steady—to sound like the girl he had talked to yesterday. The girl who hadn't broken his trust. “Are you on your way?”
“Hey, beautiful,” Jungkook’s voice came through the speaker, warm and instantly grounding. “No, I’m not. I’m sorry about this, honey, but... I gotta rain check on tonight.”
The words hit you like a physical blow. “Rain check?” Your voice trailed off, disappointment pooling in your chest
“Yeah, a client came into the shop late wanting a major cover-up on his back. It's already past 9:00 PM, and there's no way I’m finishing in time for our movie night,” he sighed, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I know we had plans, but it’s a massive piece and the guy drove all the way from Seoul. I’d feel like shit turning him away. I'm really sorry, angel. Can I make it up to you tomorrow?”
“Jungkook…” you said softly, a trace of desperation slipping out before you could stop it. You squeezed the pillow tighter against your frame, an oppressive weight settling onto your sternum. “I was really looking forward to seeing you tonight. Can't someone else take over?”
On the other end, you heard the faint, distinct clink of his teeth against his lip piercing—a nervous tick. He wanted to see you just as badly, but the harsh reality was that business came first. As much as he loved you, he couldn't just walk out.
“Angel, every other artist is booked solid tonight,” he said gently. “I can’t just hand a client off to go on a movie date. I’m sorry, y/n.”
You wanted to beg him. You wanted to scream at him to drop the damn tattoo gun and drive over. You needed him here. You needed him to wipe away the lingering trace of Yoongi’s scent—that crisp, mocking citrus that still seemed to cling to your skin. You needed Jungkook's familiar, gentle presence to drown out the memory of last night, to blur the reality of how much you had actually enjoyed Yoongi fucking you into his couch.
Then, the desperation curdled into hot, defensive anger. Anger that Jungkook still treated this relationship like a secondary priority. Anger that he had ghosted you for two days after your fight instead of handling it. Anger at him for practically pushing you into another man’s arms.
“God, stop saying sorry! I’m so tired of hearing it,” you snapped, the fury bursting out of you. “I’m starting to feel like I don’t even matter to you!”
Silence stretched over the line. Jungkook was completely caught off guard by the sudden vitriol. “Woah, woah, where is this coming from?” he asked, his voice dropping into that calm, measured tone he always used to keep from raising his voice at you. “I just told you exactly how I felt about you a couple days ago.”
“Yeah, after you ghosted me for two days!” you shot back, the frustration bubbling over as you stood up from the bed, pacing the small confines of your room. “You disappeared, left me spinning, and the second you decide to come back, a walk-in from Seoul is suddenly more important than spending time with me.”
Jungkook let out a heavy, stressed exhale on the other end. “I didn't disappear to hurt you, angel. We both needed space to cool down after that fight. And this isn't about choosing a client over you. This is my job. I wasn't upset when you chose to hang out with Mina last night instead of me, was I?”
The mention of Mina made your chest tighten, a cold spike of panic cutting through your anger. He had no idea that the "girls' night" had actually been a cover story to hang out with Yoongi. The weight of the lie made you push back even harder, desperately trying to hide your guilt behind a wall of rage. “That’s completely different, Jungkook! What I had planned with Mina was already set in motion. It wasn’t something I just sprung on you and cancelled last minute. I’m sick of feeling like I come last to everything in your life!”
“That's bullshit and you know it, y/n!” Jungkook’s voice finally dropped into a harsh, defensive register, his usual calm cracking under the exhaustion of the day and the weight of your accusations. Having known you since high school, he usually knew exactly how to handle your moods, but right now, he was pushed past his limit. “I'm trying to build a career, make something of myself. I’m sorry that I actually have real goals, and I’m not working at some fucking minimum wage ramen shop!”
The line went completely dead inside your head, the words hanging heavily in the space between you.
As soon as the sentence left his mouth, you could hear Jungkook take a sharp, panicked breath through the speaker, the harsh reality of what he'd just said hitting him instantly. "Angel, wait, I didn't mean it like that–"
But the damage was done. Reminding you of the dead-end shifts at Makoto was a low blow, especially coming from the one person who had walked through every up and down with you since you were teenagers. It was at that moment you realized that Jungkook looked down on you for where you were in your life.
"Don't worry about it," you choked out, the anger instantly draining from your body, replaced by a hollow, sickening defeat. "Finish your work." Without waiting for the desperate plea already forming on the other end of the line, you ended the call.
You stopped pacing and sat at the edge of your mattress, brooding over his words. For a protracted stretch, you simply stared at the wall, your mind completely blank except for the sharp sting of his insult. The exhaustion of your actual reality—the long, thankless hours at Makoto—didn't even compare to the absolute exhaustion of knowing the person closest to you saw you as a failure.
Your phone buzzed in your hand; looking down, you saw Jungkook's name flashing. You declined it without a second thought. Tossing the device face down onto the mattress beside you, you found yourself unable to bear the sight of his name or the desperate, flashing light of a follow up text.
It buzzed again—a short, aggressive thud against the mattress that made your shoulders tense. Then another. And another. He was panicking, scrambling to build a bridge over the massive chasm he'd just violently ripped between the two of you. Unable to take the vibrations anymore, you grabbed your phone and completely muted any further calls or texts from the brunet.
You tossed it back onto the mattress, further away this time, as if the physical distance could help quiet the echo of his voice still ringing in your ears.
You needed a distraction. You needed to hear a voice that didn't hold a hidden layer of condescension, someone who could anchor you back to reality before your own thoughts completely swallowed you whole. You reached out, grabbed your lifeless phone, and bypassed the wall of muted notifications from Jungkook without letting your eyes linger on them. Instead, you tapped on Mina’s name.
The line rang three times before it clicked open, the background noise instantly flooding your ear with a sharp contrast to your dark room—a hairdryer humming loudly, followed by the frantic clatter of what you could only assume were makeup bottles.
“Hey, stranger,” she said, her tone bright and airy. “I was just thinking about you; it feels like we haven’t talked in forever. What’s up?”
“Not much,” you replied softly, fingers tightening around the edge of your phone. The sudden, desperate urge to have her sitting next to you—to clear the heavy fog in your apartment—pushed you past your usual reluctance to gossip. “I was actually… wondering if you were free tonight? To hang out? Maybe just talk?”
A pause hung over the line, followed by the soft, apologetic drop in her voice that told you the answer before she even spoke.
“Ugh, y/n, I’m so sorry,” she groaned, sounding genuinely crushed. “I can’t tonight. Jin is taking me out to dinner,” You could hear the smile in her voice.
Jin.
You hadn’t spoken to that little weasel since the night you caught him in Yoongi’s warehouse and realized he was the reason Yoongi knew so much about you.
“Oh, by the way, he mentioned that you two talked.”
You froze, your heart hammering against your ribs. “D-did he? Um, about what?”
God, had he told her about Yoongi? He couldn’t have—that would mean exposing his own drug problem and his ties to the raven. Unless he’d kept that out of the equation.
“He said you gave him a long talk about how he’s been acting lately. Said you told him he would lose me if he didn’t get his shit together.”
You exhaled, relief washing over you. Of course. He wasn’t that stupid.
“Y-yeah, I did,” you said. It wasn’t a total lie; you had told Jin he was on the verge of losing her.
“Well, I thank you, bestie. He’s been doing so much better lately. He’s even taking me to Atrium. You know I’ve wanted to go there for months now.”
She wasn't lying. Mina used to talk about Atrium almost daily. It was a fancy, sit-down restaurant in Daegu—the kind of expensive where you paid for the atmosphere as much as the food. It was well beyond what Jin could afford on a realtor's salary, but you knew the dark truth behind his sudden influx of cash. It sickened you to sit on his deception, to keep Mina completely in the dark, but you forced the bitter taste down. As long as she was happy and safe right now, you would keep your mouth shut.
“You know I’ve always got your back.” You frowned at your own words, the lie sitting heavy on your tongue. “Well, have fun tonight. Eat something good for me.”
“I’m gonna make him buy me the whole damn menu to make up to me,” she laughed.
You forced out a hollow chuckle in return, desperate to keep your own misery from bleeding into her perfect night out.
“Okay, love you! Call you tomorrow!”
“Love you too. Bye.”
The call ended with a soft click, and the heavy, suffocating silence of your apartment instantly rushed right back in. You dropped the phone onto your lap and rubbed your hands vigorously over your face. You needed noise. You needed distraction. You absolutely did not need to think about stupid Jungkook tonight. You could just watch a movie and drown out the quiet on your own.
Shuffling out of the bedroom, you made your way into the dark living room and plopped onto the couch. You grabbed the remote from the armrest and flicked on the TV. The screen flared to life, casting a harsh, blue glow across the room as the local news materialized. You raised your hand to change the channel, but your thumb froze over the button as the screen flashed a crimson banner; BREAKING NEWS.
The anchor stared directly into the camera, his expression grim. “We begin tonight with breaking news out of Daegu,” he announced. “Details are still flooding into our newsroom regarding a shocking discovery made just hours ago. Let’s go straight to our reporter on the scene.”
The screen split, cutting to a reporter standing near the edge of Suseongmot Lake. The usual serene night view of the park was completely swallowed by the blinding glare of industrial floodlights and the chaotic pulsing of police strobes. Thick strands of yellow crime scene tape stretched across the boardwalk behind her, whipping softly in the night air.
“We are coming to you live from the Suseong District, where a massive police investigation is currently active late into the night,” the reporter said, her voice taut. “What began as a normal evening here has taken a horrific turn.”
The camera panned slightly toward the dark water, where forensic teams in white hazmat suits crawled along the shoreline.
“According to police, a couple walking along the lakeside boardwalk tonight discovered a body floating near the edge of the water. Emergency crews rushed to the scene, but what they uncovered has deeply shocked investigators. Sources close to the department confirm that the victim's body was severely mutilated—missing the head, as well as both hands and feet, in what appears to be a deliberate attempt to prevent identification. Furthermore, medical examiners on the scene have noted that the body is not a fresh casualty; preliminary decomposition indicates the remains have been in the water since at least yesterday night, despite only being discovered late tonight.”
A violent chill shot straight down your spine. Your breath hitched as you pulled your legs up onto the cushion, hugging your knees tightly against your chest.
The reporter paused briefly, letting the graphic weight of the update sink into the late-night broadcast before continuing. “Because of the extreme condition of the remains, the Daegu Metropolitan Police Department is strictly withholding any details regarding the victim's gender or age. Detectives have already begun a massive sweep of the area, confiscating security footage from every surveillance camera around the park to track how the body was transported to the lake. Authorities are pleading with anyone who was near Suseongmot earlier tonight and noticed anything unusual to contact police immediately. We will remain on the scene as this investigation develops. Back to you in the studio.”
The moment the screen flipped back to the studio, you mashed the button on the remote, desperate to get away from the news. The grim anchor vanished, replaced by the bright, upbeat music of a cooking channel. A chef began cheerfully explaining the steps to a pastry recipe, the bright audio a surreal contrast to what you had just heard.
Even with the comforting background noise filling the room, the warmth didn't reach you. You looked around your darkened apartment, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as an unsettling sensation crept in—the distinct, irrational feeling of eyes watching you from the shadows.
‘How disturbing…’ you thought, pulling your knees a little closer to your chest.
The cheerful chatter of the cooking show felt entirely useless against the cold dread pooling in your stomach. You didn't want to be alone anymore. The thought of a brutal killer out there turned the familiar shadows of your apartment into a threat.
Your fingers trembled as you picked up your phone. You had explicitly promised yourself you wouldn't see Yoongi again, needing to put distance between yourself and the dangerous pull he had over you. But as you stared at the dark corners of your living room, the terror of the news broadcast overrode your shame. As much as you hated yourself for it, Yoongi was the only one who could make the world feel safe when things turned violent.
Crazy, right?
Swallowing the bitter taste of your own hypocrisy, you scrolled past Jungkook's name, found Yoongi's number, and tapped the screen before you could talk yourself out of it.
The line didn’t even manage to ring twice before the call connected. The speaker instantly filled with the low, steady purr of an engine and the faint, rhythmic click of a turn signal. Yoongi was in transit, likely surrounded by the heavy, silent presence of his guys, handling the kind of business you preferred to pretend didn't exist.
“Babygirl,” he spoke, the distinct smirk evident in his low voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure of you calling me on your movie date with your little boyfriend tonight?”
“I’m not on a movie date with him,” you admitted, the words tasting like defeat. “He canceled on me.”
“Oh yeah?” Through the speaker, his voice dropped an octave, the smirk fading into a low, rumbling hum of genuine curiosity. “How come?”
“Work shit. I really don’t care to talk about it right now.”
“So don’t,” Yoongi murmured, the easy authority in his voice instantly clearing the space for whatever you needed to say. “Talk to me, what’s up?”
You took a shaky breath, your eyes darting back to the flickering light of the cooking channel as if to reassure yourself the news anchor was actually gone. “I… I just turned on the TV,” you stammered, pulling your knees tighter against your chest. “There was a breaking news report. Suseongmot Lake. They found a body. The reporter said it was… it was mutilated. Cut up so horribly no one could identify it. They said it's been sitting out there since yesterday night.”
A heavy, absolute silence fell over Yoongi's side of the line, masked perfectly by the steady hum of his car. “Is that right?” He didn’t even sound phased by the grimness of the report.
"Yeah..." you breathed out, the word catching in your throat as a shuddering breath escaped your lips. “I’m a little… spooked by it. I-I… was wondering if you could come over? Keep me company? Maybe we could watch a movie together instead?”
“Movie nights aren’t my thing, princess,” he countered smoothly, the absolute certainty in his voice cutting through the car's steady road noise.
“According to you, neither is playing games at the Daegu fair, but we did that together,” you reminded him, throwing his own rules back at him to mask your anxiety.
The raven was quiet for a brief moment, the faint click of his turn signal filling the silence before he let out a low sigh. “Fine, alright. Give me… an hour or so. I’ll be there, beautiful.”
You smiled slightly, the heavy dread in your chest lifting just enough for you to breathe. “You got an hour.”
You poured the last of the popcorn into a large glass bowl, tossing a piece into your mouth with a slight smile. Just then, a firm knock sounded at the door behind you. Dumping the empty bag into the trash, you walked over, not even bothering to look through the peephole—you already knew exactly who was on the other side.
When you pulled the door open, Yoongi was standing in the entryway, casually holding a fresh pizza box. Your eyes flicked from the box up to his face, a smirk tugging at your lips.
“Is this what you needed an hour for?” you asked.
Yoongi let out a low, amused huff, stepping past you into the warmth of the apartment without waiting for an invitation. The rich, savory scent of garlic and hot cheese immediately filled the entryway, effortlessly overpowering the artificial butter scent of your popcorn. “What’s a movie night without a pizza?” he murmured, his deep voice carrying that familiar, heavy vibration that always seemed to ground you. He set the pizza box down on the counter with a soft thud, right next to your glass bowl.
He turned around, leaning back against the counter and shoving his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket. His dark eyes locked onto yours, sharp and calculating as they slowly traced the lines of your face, looking for any lingering traces of the fear that had you trembling on the phone an hour ago.
“So,” he said, the slight tilt of his head matching the lazy, confident pull of his lips. “What movie is on the itinerary?”
“Well…” you started, closing your door and throwing the deadbolt. “I wanted to watch something familiar like Mean Girls, but I figured that wasn’t really your style and you'd just end up falling asleep.”
“You’d be correct,” he cut in smoothly, his tone dry.
“I know. So I looked up some movies I thought you’d actually like, and The Wolf of Wall Street didn’t sound too bad from what I read in the description.” You searched his dark eyes, hunting for even a flicker of approval on the selection.
The raven's smirk widened, an amused light passing through his gaze. “That’s one of my favorite movies,” he said. “I’m glad you kept me in mind.”
“You said you’re not a movie night person, so I at least wanted to play something you’d enjoy,” you reasoned, though the small smile on your lips betrayed how glad you were that you'd gotten it right.
The raven pushed off the counter, slowly closing the distance between you. Before you could step back, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently but firmly into his space. “I feel special,” he murmured, his deep voice dropping to a low, intimate hum as he looked down at you.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, gently pulling away from his grasp to break the intense proximity. “It’s nothing, just a movie and a good guess, I suppose,” you said softly, your hand instinctively rubbing your arm.
As you stepped back, the sharp, refreshing scent of his citrus cologne washed over you—the exact same smell that had lingered on your skin after your night together. The sensory memory sent a sudden, nervous flutter through your chest. “Let’s start it,” you added quickly, needing the distraction.
Yoongi watched you step away, his arms dropping lazily back to his sides, though his eyes never left your face. He didn't miss the subtle tension in your frame or the way your hand found your arm, but instead of pressing the issue, his smirk simply softened into something more relaxed. He knew exactly what his presence did to you, especially after last night.
“Alright,” he said, his deep voice carrying a trace of lingering amusement. “Let's start it.”
He grabbed the warm pizza box from the counter with one hand, effortlessly balancing it, while you picked up the large glass bowl of popcorn. Walking over to the couch, you grabbed the remote and settled onto your spot, the plush cushions offering a small sense of comfort against the lingering edge of your nerves.
Yoongi didn't hesitate to make himself at home. He shed his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly over the back of the headrest before sinking into the couch right next to you. The couch dipped under his weight, and immediately, that crisp citrus scent filled your space again, warm and entirely too close.
He propped his arm up on the back of the sofa, his fingers inches away from your shoulder as he looked toward the blank TV screen. "Well? Put it on, princess. Let's see if it's as good as I remember."
You picked up the remote, your thumb hovering over the play button. The Netflix interface was already up, the movie paused and waiting for you to hit select. With a quick click, the opening credits of The Wolf of Wall Street began to roll, the lively soundtrack filling the quiet apartment and taking some of the pressure off the silence between you.
Yoongi shifted back against the cushions, reaching over to pop open the pizza box. The rich aroma of melted cheese and garlic hit the air again, making your mouth water. He pulled out a slice, offering it to you first with a silent tilt of his head.
“Here,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on the screen but his attention entirely focused on making sure you actually ate.
“Thanks,” you whispered, taking the hot slice from him. Your fingers brushed lightly against his palm in the handoff, a small spark of static heat leaving your skin tingling. You took a bite, the comfort food instantly helping to soothe the last stubborn knots of anxiety in your stomach.
Yoongi grabbed a slice for himself, leaning his head back against the sofa. For the first twenty minutes, the room was quiet save for the dialogue on screen and the occasional low grunt of agreement from Yoongi during his favorite scenes. But despite the fast-paced movie, you could still feel the heavy, magnetic pull of his presence right beside you, the heat radiating from his shoulder completely throwing off your concentration.
As the movie progressed, your chest tightened slightly as a particularly intense sex scene cut in, the heavy panting and explicit visuals on screen catching you completely off guard. Under the warm glow of the lamps, you felt a sudden, familiar spike of heat pool in your stomach.
This didn’t go unnoticed by the raven. He looked over at you, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Feeling antsy, babygirl?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing hum that barely carried over the sound of the TV. He leaned in just a fraction closer, the sharp scent of his citrus cologne flaring to life again, entirely breaking whatever focus you had left.
“W-what?”
“You heard me,” Yoongi said softly, his smirk widening just a fraction as he caught the tiny stutter. He tilted his head, watching the way your breath hitched under the warm lamplight. “You're shifting around like the couch is on fire. Is something on the screen getting to you?”
He casually reached over to grab another handful of popcorn, his forearm brushing against your knee with a deliberate, lingering slowness. The sudden, brief contact sent another spark right through you, the citrus scent of his cologne enveloping you completely and practically dragging your mind straight back to the memory of his hands on your skin the night before.
“I'm just trying to get comfortable,” you lied, desperately aiming for a defensive tone but only managing a breathless murmur as you forced yourself to look back at the TV.
Yoongi let out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrated deep in his chest. He didn't move away. Instead, he leaned back into the cushions, his shoulder firmly pressed against yours, letting you feel every bit of his body heat. “Sure you are,” he hummed, his dark eyes still locked on your profile. “But if you keep moving like that, I'm going to start thinking you want me to do something about it.”
“I don't,” you insisted, though the way your voice wavered at the end entirely betrayed you.
Yoongi didn't say another word. Instead, he slowly reached for the remote on the coffee table and pressed pause. The loud, chaotic audio from the movie abruptly cut out, plunging the living room into a sudden, heavy silence that made the sound of your rapid breathing feel incredibly loud.
He turned fully on the cushions, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intense, unblinking focus that made it impossible to look away. The teasing smirk was still playing on his lips, but there was a deeper weight to his gaze now.
“You're a shit liar,” he said, leaning forward just enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. “Your mouth is saying one thing, but I bet your pussy is saying another. So, what are we doing here?”
The blunt shift in his tone sent a sharp, undeniable jolt straight through you. Yoongi's gaze felt incredibly heavy, tracking your every micro-reaction as his words hung in the quiet space between you. You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, entirely overwhelmed by the sheer confidence dripping from him.
“N-Nothing. We’re doing nothing.”
“No?” He raised a brow. “You don’t want a rerun of what this dick feels like? You don’t wanna do what they were doing in the movie?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, practically peeling the skin off with how hard you dug your teeth in. The truth was, you did. You wanted to have sex with Yoongi again. It was foolish trying to deny it, especially with him right here, reminding you exactly of what you were missing.
The raven suddenly grabs your wrist, yanking you on top of his lap in one swift motion. His hands held your hips while yours flew to grip the headrest of the couch. Yoongi slowly begins to grind you against him, the thick, rigid length of his cock pressed directly against your heat through his jeans, leaving no doubt about exactly what he wanted.
“You can keep playing fucking dumb all you want,” he whispered, his grip tightening on your hips as he leaned closer, his breath hot and commanding against your lips. “But you’re already dripping for it, aren’t you? Tell me how bad you want this dick inside you again.”
You bit the inside of your cheek harder, the sharp sting of pain the only thing keeping you from completely falling apart as he set the rhythm.
Yoongi didn't miss the flare of your nostrils or the way your fingers dug desperately into the fabric of the headrest. A dark, satisfied smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, his hands squeezing your hips with bruising force, grounding you completely against his thighs. Every slow, deliberate roll of his hips sent a devastating wave of friction straight to your core, turning your insides to liquid.
“Nothing?” he taunted softly, his voice dropping into that raw, scratchy register that always made your chest tight. He paused the movement for just a second, holding you flush against the hard ridge of his jeans, letting you feel exactly how much control he had over the situation. “Still wanna tell me we're doing nothing?”
He leaned in until his lips were barely brushing yours, teasing you with the ghost of a kiss you were dying to take.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his thumbs digging into your hip bones. “Say it to my face while you're grinding against my dick. Tell me you don't want it.”
You shake your head, refusing to give him the satisfaction of you giving into him again.
Yoongi let out a low, dark chuckle at your defiance, the sound vibrating right against your lips. He liked when you fought it—it only made the inevitable surrender that much sweeter.
"Oh, it’s like that?" he questioned, his grip shifting from your hips to wrap firmly around your waist. Without warning, his hands locked tight and he rolled his hips up in a sudden, hard upward thrust. The brutal, direct friction through the heavy denim hit your sensitive core with devastating accuracy, forcing a sharp, breathless gasp straight out of your throat before you could stop it. Your fingers dug desperately into the headrest, straining for grip just to keep your balance on his thighs.
“Maybe I was a little too gentle with you last time,” he growled, his voice dropping into a dark, rough promise as he held you perfectly still against his hardness. “Maybe you need to know who the boss is.”
Yoongi didn't wait for a response. He locked his fingers brutally tight into your waist, anchoring you down, and drove his hips up again. This time, he didn't stop. He started a hard, relentless rhythm, rolling against you with an unyielding pressure that crushed his rigid length directly into your aching center over and over again.
The heat building between your clothes was immediate and scorching. Every heavy thrust sent a shockwave straight to your core, dragging high, broken whimpers from the back of your throat that you were entirely powerless to choke back. You could barely keep your hands clamped onto the headrest as the raw force of his movements rocked your entire body, sliding you helplessly against the rough denim of his jeans.
“Look at me,” he commanded, the low order vibrating right against your mouth as he kept the brutal pace steady. He leaned up, his teeth nipping viciously at your bottom lip before sealing his mouth over yours, drinking down your breathless gasps as he completely took control.
He pulled back just enough to let you catch a desperate breath, though his mouth stayed close enough to brush your lips with every word. His breath was ragged, his chest heaving hard against yours as his hands tightened on your waist, using his grip to tilt your hips back and align you even deeper against his hardness.
“Tell me you want me to fuck you again.”
The raw command hung heavy in the air, the sheer filthiness of the words making your heart hammer violently.
Yoongi’s eyes didn’t leave yours for a single second. He kept you completely pinned, his cock an agonizing pressure right against your wetness, letting you feel exactly how hard he was for you while denying you the one thing that would bring relief. The friction had left you entirely raw, your body practically screaming for him to start moving again.
You swallowed hard, your lips parting as you stared back at him, the last remnants of your resolve completely fracturing under his intense gaze.
“Say it,” he prompted, his voice dropping into a rough, low rumble that vibrated straight through your core. He nudged his hips forward just a fraction of an inch—a tiny, torturous tease that made you instinctively arch into him. “I wanna hear it.”
“I-I…” you started, finally feeling yourself give into him again. You didn’t know what it was about the raven that kept you coming around and making bad choices, but the fact of the matter was—you didn’t care anymore. “I want you to fuck me again.”
“That’s my good girl.” His tongue flicks your bottom lip, a quick, teasing heat. “Now, get up,” he demands.
You furrow your brows in confusion, but you follow his order nonetheless and climb off of him, your bare legs trembling slightly as your feet hit the floor.
He stands up from the couch, holding his hand out for you to take. You do. His fingers lock firmly around yours, pulling you up the rest of the way and leading you straight toward your bedroom.
You stand at the foot of your bed, completely still as you wait for his next move. The heavy silence of the bedroom is broken only by the sound of your own rapid breathing.
“Strip for me,” he says suddenly.
The command hits you like a physical blow. You freeze, the air caught in your throat. “Huh?”
“Did I stutter? Strip for me,” he repeats, his voice dropping into a harsh, unyielding tone that leaves absolutely no room for argument.
You nod quickly, your heart hammering against your ribs. Panic and excitement twist together in your stomach; you hadn’t been completely naked the last time you two had sex, and the thought of being entirely bare and vulnerable under the raven's intense, critical gaze makes your hands tremble as you reach for the edge of your shirt.
Yoongi doesn't offer a single word of reassurance to ease your nerves. Instead, he just steps back a single pace, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands tall. His dark eyes lock onto you, tracking your every movement.
Your fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, the fabric suddenly feeling incredibly heavy. With a shaky breath, you pull it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor. The cool air of the bedroom hits your bare skin, making your goosebumps rise instantly, but the heat from his intense gaze feels hot enough to burn.
“The rest of it,” he commands, his voice low and completely flat, though the slight muscle twitching in his jaw betrays how closely he’s watching you.
You swallow past the lump in your throat, your hands moving down to the elastic waistband of your pajama shorts. Being completely exposed before him feels entirely different this time—raw, vulnerable, and completely under his control. You slide the shorts down your legs along with your underwear, stepping out of the fabric until you are standing entirely bare at the foot of your bed, your chest heaving as you try to brave his inspection.
Yoongi’s eyes slowly travel down your body, taking in every inch of your bare skin with a heavy, unblinking focus that makes your thighs press together instinctively. A slow, dark satisfaction finally breaks across his face.“Turn around,” he says, his hands reaching down to unbuckle his belt.
You nod again, turning your back to him. The sudden loss of visual control makes your heart race even faster, leaving you with nothing but the sharp, metal clanking of Yoongi’s belt buckle echoing in the quiet room. You are dying with anticipation, every muscle in your body tense as you await his next move.
Suddenly, the air behind you shifts. You feel the raven standing directly behind you, his heavy presence looming over your back and his hot breath feathering across your neck. Before you can even process the proximity, his hands move over your head, looping the heavy leather of his belt around your neck like a collar and pulling it just taut enough to make you gasp.
“Y-Yoongi, what’re you doing?” you stammer, your voice trembling as the leather settles firmly against your skin.
The raven doesn’t answer. Instead, his grip on the leather tightens slightly as he guides you around to face him, the makeshift collar looping around your throat with the movement.
Yoongi holds the strap of the belt securely in his hands, wrapping the excess leather around his knuckles as he pulls you flush against him. The rough texture of his clothes rubs directly against your bare chest and stomach, the sudden contact sending a shiver straight down your spine. He looks down at you, his dark eyes filled with an unyielding intensity.
“Something I’d know you’d like,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, heavy rasp that vibrates against your lips. “You trust me, princess?”
You look up into the raven’s dark eyes, searching the intense depth in them before you slowly nod. “Y-yes. I trust you.”
Yoongi smirks, a dark, satisfied expression crossing his features. “Good girl. Now get on your knees for me.”
Your breath hitches at the sheer authority in his tone. Without a second thought, your body moves on instinct, your knees sinking onto the floor right at his feet. Because he keeps his grip tight, the leather belt pulls tight against the back of your neck as you move down, forcing you to keep your chin up and look straight up at him.
Looking up from the floor, you are completely at his mercy, your hands resting tentatively on your own thighs as you brave his downward gaze.
Yoongi stands tall above you, looking down with a dark, unyielding intensity that clearly satisfies him. He gives the strap a faint, testing tug, tilting your face up just a fraction more.
“Look at you,” he rasps, his voice thick with a sudden, heavy heat. “So desperate to please me.”
He brings his thumb down to your mouth, his rough skin brushing over your lower lip. “Open.”
You follow his order, much like you had been doing all night, your lips parting without hesitation. Yoongi pushes his thumb deep into your mouth, and like an instinct, your lips seal around it as you suck on his thumb. A dark, low groan escapes the back of his throat at the immediate sensation, his fingers tightening on the leather strap as he watches your mouth work around him.
His eyes darken completely, tracking the rhythm of your mouth as you wrap your tongue around his thumb. The wet, rhythmic heat of it clearly drives him over the edge. With a sharp exhale, he slowly drags his wet thumb past your lips, leaving them slick and slightly parted.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough and uneven.
Before you can even catch your breath, his free hand returns to his unzipped jeans. He pushes them down just far enough, freeing his cock right in front of your face. It's fully erect, heavy and pulsing with his anticipation, the head glistening with precum.
Yoongi doesn't force himself in. Instead, he uses the leather strap of the belt to gently guide your head forward, holding you steady as he brushes the warm, smooth tip of his cock against your wet bottom lip. The contrast of the heavy leather at your neck and his burning skin against your lips makes your heart hammer frantically.
“Now take it, princess,” he commands, his gaze locking hard onto yours. "Show me how bad you want me to fuck you."
You open your mouth wider, leaning into his touch as you take the broad head of his cock past your lips. The sudden fullness fills your mouth instantly, the intense heat of him consuming your senses. You wrap your lips tightly around his cock, your hands gripping your own thighs as you slowly take him deeper, trying to adjust to his size.
A heavy, guttural groan rips from the back of Yoongi’s throat. His hips twitch forward slightly on instinct, but he catches himself, his knuckles turning white as he tightens his grip on the leather strap of the belt to keep your head perfectly steady.
“F-fuck, princess,” he pants, his head tilting back for a fraction of a second as your warm, wet mouth works around him.
He looks back down at you, his eyes completely blown out and dark with lust. His free hand slides around to the back of your head, his palm anchoring you firmly in place alongside the tension of the belt.
“Just like that,” he rasps, his breathing heavy and ragged as he begins to slowly dictate the pace, nudging his hips forward to push a little deeper into your throat. “Take it all for me.”
You try your best not to gag, swallowing hard against the thick fullness of him. It had been a while since you’d given anyone head, and your throat is definitely out of practice. You may have been a virgin intercourse-wise, but certainly not mouth-wise—you had to keep your ex-boyfriends around somehow.
He slowly begins to move his hips, a steady, agonizingly slow friction that drags the smooth length of his cock against your tongue and lips. Every slide forward fills your mouth completely, testing the limits of your jaw, but you hold your ground, determined to prove your skill despite the break you've had.
“Yeah, you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” Yoongi rasps, a tight, breathless smirk cutting through his expression. He watches the focused, submissive look on your face, his dark eyes ablaze with absolute possessiveness. “I thought my babygirl was a virgin through-and-through, but it’s obvious you’ve sucked dick before.”
The sudden callout makes your eyes widen around his length, a flush of heat creeping up your neck that has nothing to do with the friction in your mouth. You try to look up at him through your lashes, but the firm pressure of his palm against the back of your head keeps you pinned right where he wants you.
Yoongi lets out a dark, low chuckle at your reaction, the sound vibrating deeply against your lips. He doesn’t sound angry—if anything, the discovery only seems to fuel his dominance, turning him even more ruthless.
“Don’t stop,” he growls softly, his fingers tightening on the leather strap of the belt as his hips deliver a sharp, demanding roll into your mouth. “Tell me who taught you how to use that mouth so well while you take every single inch of me.”
You pull back just enough to let his cock slip past your lips, the leather strap of the belt keeping your chin tilted up as you look up at him. Your chest heaves, a thin silver strand of saliva bridging the small gap between your mouth and the glistening head of his cock.
“My ex-boyfriends,” you admit breathlessly, your voice small but honest under his heavy gaze.
Yoongi’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching instantly. The mention of other guys having your mouth like this clearly strikes a chord, but his mind immediately jumps to the one person he’s been fully aware of this entire time.
He looks down at you, his fingers tightening on the leather strap of the belt to pull you a fraction closer. With his free hand, he reaches up and hooks his fingers through his hair, pushing the strands back from his face as a dark, dangerous look settles over his features.
“Your exes,” Yoongi repeats, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register. He leans forward, looming over you with an overwhelming intensity. “What about Jungkook?”
You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribs. “I… I never gave Jungkook head,” you whisper, the honesty spilling out of you before you can stop it.
A slow, deeply satisfied smirk cuts through Yoongi’s expression at your confession, the raw jealousy instantly morphing into pure, dominant victory.
“Never?” he rasps, a dark, low chuckle vibrating in his chest as his palm presses firmly against the back of your head. He guides you forward, the warm, glistening tip of his cock pressing right against your lips. “Good. Keep it that way.”
His hips roll forward, burying himself deep inside your throat once again.
The sudden, deeper penetration catches you completely off guard. Your eyes water instantly, tears spilling over your lashes and wetting your cheeks as your throat clamps down around his thick length. You try your best to control the reflex, your fingers digging tightly into your own thighs as you take the full depth of his thrust.
Yoongi lets out a heavy, ragged groan, the feeling of your tight throat squeezing his cock clearly driving him crazy. He keeps his palm firmly anchored against the back of your head, maintaining a ruthless, unyielding pressure that matches the tight pull of the belt at your neck.
Through his hair falling forward around his face, his dark eyes lock onto yours, watching the raw, tearful submission on your face with absolute satisfaction.
“Yeah, take it,” he growls softly, his breathing growing louder and more uneven as he begins to establish a steady, punishing rhythm. His hips snap forward, pulling back just far enough to catch his breath before burying himself right back into your mouth. “Good girl. Take every single inch of it.”
The wet, frantic sounds of your mouth working around him fill the quiet room, completely erasing any thought of your exes or Jungkook. In this moment, under the heavy weight of his gaze and the tight grip of the leather belt, Yoongi is the only thing that exists.
He pulls back nearly to the tip, letting you catch a single, ragged breath before plunging straight back in, harder this time. A soft, muffled whine is dragged from your chest, the sound completely swallowed by his length as he bottoms out against your throat.
Yoongi’s chest heaves, his pale skin slick with a light sheen of sweat under the dim room lighting. He tilts his head back for a brief second, his jaw tightly clenched and the veins in his neck straining as he rides the intense wave of pleasure you’re giving him. His hair swings forward again as he looks back down, his expression completely consumed by unadulterated lust.
“Your mouth feels so good,” he pants, his voice dropping into a desperate, fractured whisper. “F-fuck, baby, you’re ruining me.”
The rhythm shifts from controlled to urgent. His hips snap forward in quicker, heavier successions, the unyielding palm at the back of your head keeping you perfectly pinned to his pace. You can feel the heat building inside him, the heavy pulse of his cock thickening even further against your tongue as he edges closer to the brink.
He loosens his grip on the leather strap just enough to slide his free hand under your chin, forcing your face up so he can look directly into your tear-filled eyes.
“Don’t close your eyes,” he commands, his breathing entirely ragged now, his hips stuttering as he delivers a few final, shallow thrusts deep into your mouth. “Look at me. I wanna see you looking at me when I cum.”
You keep your eyes locked on his, your vision blurry from the tears streaming down your face, but you don’t dare blink. Under the intense, burning weight of his gaze, your heart hammers frantically against your ribs as you swallow down the urge to pull away.
Yoongi lets out a shattered, guttural groan from the back of his throat. His entire body tenses, the muscles in his arms locking as he maintains his unyielding grip—his fingers still tightened on the leather strap of the belt while his other hand holds your chin firmly, keeping your face tilted up to his. His hair falls forward, framing his face as his expression contorts with raw pleasure.
With one final, heavy roll of his hips, he buries his cock as deep as it can go into your throat and freezes.
“F-fuck—”
His voice cracks on the syllable as his cock pulses violently inside your mouth. You feel the sudden, intense heat of his climax hitting the back of your throat, a thick, heavy rush that fills your mouth completely. Your hands grip your thighs so hard your nails dig through the skin, your body trembling from the sheer intensity of keeping still while he releases everything inside your mouth.
Yoongi holds you perfectly pinned, his chest heaving violently as he rides out the waves of his release, his dark eyes completely blown out as he watches you take every single drop.
He slowly begins to pull back, his breathing ragged and uneven as his cock slides past your lips with a pop. Your jaw aches from the stretch, and a small gasp escapes you as you finally catch your breath, your chest heaving violently. A thick drop of his cum spills over your bottom lip, tracing a slow line down your chin.
Slowly, his breathing begins to even out, but the dark, possessive haze in his eyes doesn’t fade. If anything, looking down at your tear-stained face only seems to light a different kind of fire in him. He lets out a low, rough exhale, his thumb stroking along your jawline as his grip on the belt tightens again.
“Get in the bed on your hands and knees,” Yoongi commands, his voice dropping into a gravelly, unyielding register. “I’m not even close to finished with you.”
He lets go of the belt, allowing you to scramble to the bed. You shift to the very edge of the mattress, dropping your knees to the soft fabric while your hands grip whatever they could of the bed for support. The position leaves you completely exposed, your back arched as you wait for him.
Yoongi stands tall behind you, looming over the bed like a dark shadow. He doesn't waste a second. He steps into the narrow space between your thighs, his thighs pressing flush against the back of yours as he locks you into place.
One of his hands comes down heavily onto your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with an unyielding grip to pull your body firmly back against him. With his other hand, Yoongi reaches up your spine, his knuckles brushing against your shoulder blades as he finds the leather strap still looped around your neck.
He wraps his fingers tightly around the leather, his grip instantly tightening to pull your chin up. The sudden tension forces your back to arch even deeper, your fingers digging tightly into the mattress as you try to keep your balance.
Standing behind you, Yoongi lets out a low, ragged exhale, the friction of his cock rubbing between your wet folds as he uses the belt to control your posture completely.
“Look straight ahead,” he commands softly, “And hold on tight to the bed, princess.”
He doesn’t wait another second. Holding you perfectly secure with his grip on your hip and the leather strap, Yoongi aligns his cock with your entrance, then drives his hips forward, burying himself deep inside you in one smooth, heavy thrust.
A sharp, breathless scream is ripped from your throat, your back arching even tighter as your body tries to adjust to the sudden, stretching fullness of him. He is entirely bottoming out against you with a force that makes the bed creak beneath your hands.
Standing tall behind you, Yoongi lets out a low groan, his shoulders squaring as his chest heaves. He pauses for just a heartbeat, letting you feel the thick, heavy pulse of him stretching you open from the inside before he begins to move.
He pulls back nearly all the way, only to plunge straight back in, setting a punishing pace. Every heavy thrust of his hips snaps against you, the steady friction building a white-hot heat between your thighs.
"F-fuck," he pants, his voice ruined and breathless from above you as his grip tightens on the belt, pulling back just enough to keep your head tilted high. "You feel so good, princess."
Yoongi doesn’t ease up, he maintains that rhythm, each heavy plunge driving him deep into your cunt. The sheer density of his erection is unyielding, a thick, searing weight that fills you completely and leaves you utterly breathless.
His grip on your hip is hot where his fingers press into your skin, anchoring you against the momentum of his hips. With his other hand, he keeps the leather strap of the belt taut, the firm upward tension ensuring your back stays deeply arched and your face remains tilted high. Every time he bottoms out, the sharp impact shuddering through your frame forces another fractured gasp from your lips.
“O-oh fuck… Yoongi!” You cry out.
The sound of his heavy, rhythmic thrusts echoes loudly in the quiet room, mixed with the low, gravelly friction of his breath from right behind you. He watches the movement of his own body entering yours, his dark eyes fixed on the view with an intense, unblinking focus.
"Don't lose your grip," he commands, his voice dropping into a rough, dominant growl as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, and entirely relentless. "Stay right there for me, princess."
You nod your head, trying to keep your arms steady.
From behind, one of his hands anchors tightly to your hip while the other maintains a firm hold on the belt. He leans down, his voice rough against your ear. “That’s my girl. You like when I fuck you, don’t you?”
The heavy, rhythmic friction of his body against yours fills the space, entirely consuming your senses as he continues to drive into you. The bite of his fingers on your hip keeps you completely pinned, leaving no room for you to pull away even if you wanted to.
Your chest heaves, breaths coming in shallow, ragged hitches while you fight to keep your weight supported, every muscle in your arms trembling under the strain.
He lets out a low, gravelly grunt of approval, the sharp snap of the belt tight against your skin as he drives forward again, deeper and more punishingly than before. "Answer me," he commands, his hot breath brushing the back of your neck.
"I wanna hear it," he growls, his voice vibrating through you as he maintains the relentless pace. He shifts slightly, the hand on your hip digging in deeper to ensure you don't falter, while the belt remains taut, a constant, heavy reminder of his control.
You choke out a breathless sound, your head falling back as the intensity of his movements leaves you reeling. Every time he drives into you, the friction makes it harder to stay upright, your arms shaking violently as you struggle to hold your position against his force.
“Y-yes! I like when you fuck me!”
He lets out a dark, satisfied chuckle, sensing your struggle and relishing the lack of fight left in you. "That's it," he murmurs, his tone dropping even lower, thick with possessive intent. “I wanna hear you admit every single bit of it. That you don’t want this to end, that you don’t want me to stop.”
You had a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about sex anymore.
“I-I don’t want this to end, I don’t want you to stop!”
The smiles, the words sounding like music to his ears. “I could give you the fucking world, baby.” His movements pause for a split second, a heavy, deliberate stillness that makes your heart hammer against your ribs, before he crashes back into you with twice the force. The shift in his demeanor is sharp—the playful, rough edge replaced by something possessive and consuming.
"The world," he repeats, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that seems to rattle your very bones. He pulls the belt, forcing your hips to stay locked into his rhythm, his knuckles pressing firmly against your lower back. "You have no idea what I’m capable of giving you, or what I’m going to expect in return."
He leans down, pressing his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, his stubble grazing your skin. The heat radiating off him is suffocating, turning the air in the shop heavy and thick.
"You’re mine, princess," he murmurs, his pace accelerating again, his thrusts driving deep enough to leave you breathless and shaking. "And if you’re as good as I know you are, maybe you’ll be mine for a lot longer."
The intensity of his words sinks into you, heavier than the physical weight of his body. The implication lingers in the air, shifting the dynamic from a fleeting, heated moment into something far more demanding.
He senses your hesitation, the way your breath hitches at his ultimatum, and he punctuates his point by pinning your hip down with such force it leaves you breathless. His hand on the belt gives a sharp, grounding tug, pulling you deeper into him, forcing you to meet his rhythm head-on.
"Don't go quiet on me now," he growls, his voice a low, jagged demand. He drags his teeth lightly against the sensitive skin of your shoulder, his grip tightening as he pushes you to the edge. "You’ve already said the words, and there’s no taking them back. You belong to me now, and you’re going to prove it."
The air in the room is thick, heavy with the scent of your combined heat. You’re completely surrendered to the pace he’s setting, your senses frayed, your body reacting to every demand before he even has to voice it.
He senses the way you’ve stopped fighting, the way your resistance has dissolved into pure, desperate need, and he lets out a low, guttural growl of satisfaction. He shifts his grip, his thumb pressing hard against your hipbone while his other hand keeps the belt pulled, anchoring you in place as he finds a new, punishing rhythm.
"That's it, princess," he murmurs, his voice a jagged rasp against the shell of your ear, his breath hot and uneven. He drives into you again, harder this time, his movements possessive and absolute. There is no space left for your own thoughts, only the overwhelming weight of him and the sharp, grounding reality of his control. Every instinct you have is centered on the friction, on the way his body dominates yours, and on the terrifying, thrilling weight of his promise that this is only the beginning.
“Y-Yoongi, I’m almost there–” you manage to moan out.
"Give it to me, baby. All of it."
With one final, punishing thrust, you shatter, your entire body arching as the world narrows down to nothing but the sound of your cries and his heavy, satisfied growl against your skin.
He collapses forward, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as he lets out a series of ragged, uneven breaths against your shoulder. The force of his hold on your hip doesn't slacken immediately, his fingers remaining locked into your skin as if he’s still branding you, and his other hand still has the belt coiled tight, tethering you to him even as the momentum dies away.
The room is silent except for the harsh, synchronized sound of your breathing. He stays there for a long moment, his chest heaving against your back, his presence feeling heavier and more suffocating than before. Slowly, he shifts, his hand sliding from your hip to snake around your waist, pulling you back against his front until there is no space left between you.
"Still mine?" he murmurs, his voice barely audible, raw and stripped of its earlier dominance, replaced by something sharper and possessive. "You don't get to walk away from that, princess. You don't get to walk away from me."
“Yoongi… it’s not that simple.” You say softly, Jungkook still heavy on your heart. Even after all this, you still couldn’t get over him.
“Figure out how to make it simple, y/n. You said you didn’t want this to end, so it won’t. But I’m not keen on sharing for too long. Keep that in mind.”
Pairing: CEO!YoongiXFem!Reader feat. Jungkook, and Jin
Intro chapter: here
Genera: smut w plot
Summary: You take a temporary position working as the assistant of the company ceo who is cold and brutal. Over time, his demeanor begins to eat at you and you push back, something he isn’t used to. How will he react and how will he choose to put you in your place?
Unsure how many more parts at this time, just going w the flow!
Content Warning: eventual smut. Cursing. Angst. Tension. Yoongi is cold af in this and very much as asshole. Man-handling. Yelling. Tension.
Tag List for Surviving Mr. Min: @bb3armira @non-return @fauxontherun @notsooperfect @lofiwofi
———————————————————-
“Is the espresso shot dead? How long did you let it sit before you poured it over the ice?” You asked the barista who was neck deep in orders for the early morning rush. The lobby was filled with employees from all departments of the company trying to get their lattes and black coffees before clocking in and you were holding every single one of them up. She looked at you with eyes like daggers yet a smile was plastered on her face like the customer service pro she was trained to be.
“I can assure you ma’am, I just sat it down to grab the items for the Americano. The shot didn’t die.”
“Listen.” You huffed. “I’m not trying to make your life even worse right now but I’ll be in deep shit if I take my boss an Americano with bitter-ass espresso. Trust me. He’s a real piece of fucking work.”
“I understand. But we are very busy and I assure you-“
“You don’t understand. It’s the boss. As in, the big boss.” You told her, your eyes wide with desperation as you silently begged the company barista to understand what you were saying without outright saying his name.
“Are you buying for the ceo?” She asked you with her voice low enough for only you two to hear, her facade dropping slightly and slight terror in the back of her tone.
“Yes.” You nodded. “Mr. Min.”
“My coworker spelled his name wrong once on his cup and an hour later she was walked out and fired.” She whispered, eyes drifting from you for a minute as she relived the memory.
“So you understand why this is important?”
“I’ll pre-make the cup of ice water for his Americano and re-brew the espresso shots.” She nodded once, finally understanding my irritating persistence for perfection and poured the liquid of the first drink down the sink. “This would have cost you and me our heads.”
“Thank you.” You smiled and waited as patiently as your anxiety would allow for her to remake the perfect Americano. A few moments later you were rushing as quick as your heels would allow to the elevators, cup of coffee and straw in your hand clutched tight like your life depended on it. You crowded inside with everybody else and tapped your foot impatiently as you waited for the doors to open on each floor. The journey to the top seemed almost never ending. You anxiously checked and rechecked the time on your phone as minutes flew by until you reached your floor. You jogged down the tiled hall until you reached halfway down, taking a deep breath to steady yourself and straighten your clothing, before calmly walking down the rest of the walkway to Mr. Min’s office.
You knocked twice then entered, just like he had instructed, and forced a smile as you walked in with his perfect iced Americano. He glanced up at you once and then at the drink before looking away again, focusing on his work. He tapped the wood of his desk three times with his fingers to let you know where to put the cup and you placed it gently, wishing you could slam it down hard and splash the dark liquid all over his rude face and designer suit.
“I had them remake the shots and watched them pour it right after to make sure they weren’t old. It shouldn’t be bitter.” You told him the story of your efforts but you got nothing but a small little hum of acknowledgment. Mr. Min reached out and took a sip of the coffee and placed it back down again while you stood there waiting.
“It’s a bit watered down. You took too long to bring it up. Some of the ice melted.”
You wanted to scream at him. Rip his throat out. Who the fuck did he think he is? Who the fuck did he think you were? Superwoman? You stood there glaring at him as he watched the screen where he was studying some sort of report. A graph with numbers too small for you to see where you stood.
“I came as fast as I could given the circumstances.” You told him, your voice a bit too flat to be considered lighthearted. The CEO tensed at his seat, pushing his tongue in his cheek and looking up at you. You held his eye contact fearlessly and continued. “Most of the company is starting their day right now. So the majority of the employees were there ordering-“
“Why are you boring me with this?” He cut you off, his voice stern and curt.
“I’m not trying to bore you. I’m trying to explain why it took so long for me to bring you the coffee.” You huffed, not backing down from him. “I made sure was as perfect as it could be, by the way. It doesn’t help that there’s only one elevator that goes to this floor and everybody decided to take it at the same time.”
Mr. Min huffed out a sigh and continued to stare at you, words failing him. You crossed your arms and looked right back, eyes flickering down to the coffee you had jumped hurdles to get for him. You watched as the condensation dripped down on the freshly polished wood which only made you even more irritated.
“It will continue to get watered down if you don’t drink it.” You mutter under your breath which made Min Yoongi snag the cup off the surface and take another drink.
“Thank you for the coffee.” He finally told you, eyes staring daggers into you but choosing to stay silent regarding your forwardness. You nodded once and turned to leave quickly while you were still with a job but was stopped before you could reach the handle. “Wait.”
“Yes, Mr. Min?” You mumbled, slowly turning around to look at him again. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you waited for him to let you have it. Instead, he opened one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out a folder, opening it and placing a document on his desk along with a pen.
“I need you to read this and sign if you agree to it.” He said, clearing his throat once as if he felt a bit awkward. “It’s a contract outlining specific parts of your temporarily employment. I know we talked about day to day stuff but there’s other things involved like potentially picking up my dry cleaning and having to take it to my house. Making sure you know you’ll be responsible for any damages or stolen property if found liable. Disclosure about company access to cameras and your company issued phone and computer. A strict anti-fraternization policy. And a portion that is a NDA. Non Disclosure Agreement. You won’t be able to discuss the work you do here with anybody. Including those you’re close to in the company.”
Anti-fraternization? The nerve of this guy to think anyone directly employed by him would want to fuck him. You could hardly stand being in the same room with the guy for more than 2 minutes let alone imagine being intimate. Could he be intimate with somebody? Maybe not. Maybe that’s why he was so horrible. He hadn’t gotten laid in a while. A long while.
“Seems pretty straight forward.” You mumbled, walking over and grabbing the pen to sign your name.
“You’re not going to read it thoroughly?” He asked surprised.
“No.” You rolled your eyes and looked up at him. “This is temporary. I plan to clock in and clock out. Do whatever you need me to do when you ask me to do it. I don’t plan to talk to anyone about it, even Namjoon, which I think you’re hinting at. And I already assumed my company devices would be monitored. Going to your house to drop off dry cleaning is a bit strange though. But, for the pay, I’ll do whatever you want.”
He was speechless again, using his hand to gesture you to continue and you signed your life away. He took the document back from you and put it back in his desk for safe keeping. At least until he saw his layers next.
“Is there anything else?” You asked him, hoping you would finally be set free for the day.
“I-uh, sent over my schedule for the week to get you started. All schedules after that you will be responsible for keeping track of and documenting. Your company card is in the drawer of your desk. Don’t lose it and save all receipts. Only use it for company purchases, of course.” He told you, shaking his head as if to shake out the stupidity of a previous employee who probably didn’t think to follow these rules. “I have a luncheon at 1:00 this afternoon with the heads of the Japan branch, Jeon Jungkook and Kim Seokjin. I’ll email over their preferred food options. And mine-“
“Steak. Medium rare. No sides.” You told him while smirking.
“Yes.” It was his turn to roll his eyes now. “You can go back to your desk now.”
“Yes, sir.” You said overly sweetly and slipped out of the room just in time to hear the notification for his email to you.
Kim Seokjin liked fresh sashimi and Jeon Jungkook liked steak or fresh pasta, the word ‘fresh’ in italics for emphasis for both suggestions. You groaned a bit trying to figure out how you could keep sashimi cold while also grabbing hot steak and pasta but started your search for the perfect restaurants. Luckily you found some not far from each other a few miles away due to your work building being conveniently placed in the middle of the busy city where everything was.
One Italian restaurant was world-renowned for their homemade pasta, a 10oz ribeye steak on their menu as well. It was perfect. Not as easy to find was the fresh sashimi you had to research for, the restaurant only making itself known to you by searching the ‘street view’ on google while figuring out directions for the Italian restaurant. Exclusive, private, and hard to get into according to multiple google searches and Reddit posts.
“Hello, thank you for calling Kizuna. How may I help you?” The female voice on the other end greeted you on the phone.
“Um, hi. I’m calling in hopes I can place a pick up order at 12:30pm this afternoon?” You asked her, your voice high pitched and unrecognizable to yourself.
“I’m so sorry ma’am but we don’t offer carry out. We only offer dine-in.” She apologized but you could almost hear her rolling her eyes on the other end behind her customer service voice. “I can make you a reservation? Our next opening is… four months from now on the 7th.”
Your jaw dropped, completely shocked and you started to nervously tap your foot as you thought about what else you could do. Where you could go. Instead, you made sure to exercise all your options. And, in this case, names.
“I’m sorry, I have to apologize. I forgot to mention this is for a very important.. client. Would that change anything?” You asked her with your voice hopeful. You heard her sigh on the other end before answering.
“Is that so? And what is the name of this person?”
“Min Yoongi. CEO of GeniusLab INC.”
There was silence on the other end for a moment before a bit of rustling then, moments later, another person was on the other end.
“Hello, this is Marcus, the owner of Kizuna. I am told you’re calling to place an order for the Min Yoongi?” The excitement in his voice made you irritated but you forced yourself to smile through the receiver.
“Yes. The very one. I can bring his business card for proof if you’d like.”
“No, no! I- we believe you. I just wanted to make sure my hostess wasn’t hearing things. Anything you like! I can get him in today-“ He stuttered.
“Oh? She must not have told you we aren’t looking to dine in today. We’re looking to have your food at one of his luncheons. Is it possible to get the food to go?” You pressed him.
“I see.. oh. I’m sorry. We just don’t offer-“
“Ah, okay. Mr. Min will be very disappointed.” You sighed dramatically for extra effect. “He was really hoping to try your famous sashimi. Maybe next time, if he still wants to come that is..”
“We will make it work! I’ll- I’ll send my staff to go get a cooler right away for the transit. You said sashimi? What kind? Oh, I’ll just do a whole platter of all we have to offer. Yes! That’s what I’ll do..” Marcus started to mutter to himself while you smiled, knowing you were going to knock this luncheon out of the park.
————————————-
A few hours later you were in the conference room setting up the plates of food. The sashimi for Mr. Kim was still cold, decorated beautifully on the plates they gave you in wrapped in cellophane. Real glass plates! They told you it was an honor for Mr. Min to take them which made you want to smash them on the floor. Especially when they insisted to comp you the entire meal.
“Just seeing the company card is enough payment for us!” The manager told you, his excitement making you nauseous as he handed you over $200 worth of premium seafood.
You sat Yoongi’s steak at the head of the table, still hot and pouring juices. It looked sad on the plate with nothing accompanying it. And finally, for Mr. Jeon, you couldn’t decide what to get so, you got him both. A giant, juicy, steak and a fresh bowl of carbonara pasta that was still steaming. You placed down rolled fabric napkins and utensils and poured them ice water in overly fancy glasses. As you were finishing up, the door opened and Mr. Min, along with the two other men, walked inside and you had to stop yourself from dropping your jaw on the floor.
“Ah! Hello. Who is this?” The tall one with kind eyes and very outgoing personality greeted you, his face was model-like with hair styled in an almost boyish bowl cut. Mr. Min looked at you with squinted eyes, obviously upset you were still in the room when they got in but you ignored him and extended your hand out to shake the gentleman’s hand.
“Hello, I’m y/n. I’m Mr. Min’s new assistant.” You introduced yourself pleasantly. You heard the CEO mumble the word ‘temporary’ which had your smile tightening on your face but both guests seem to ignore him.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Kim Seokjin, one of the chairman’s and managers of the Japan branch. And this is my co-chair, Jeon Jungkook.”
You turned to shake the others hand and was almost knocked to your feet by his tattooed knuckles and very obvious arm of sleeved tattoos that was cut off by a way-too-tight button up that had its sleeves rolled to his elbows. When you eyes met his he smirked at you, obviously catching you checking him out, and you smiled back sheepishly.
“It’s nice to meet you. I like your outfit.” He told you, his voice almost gravely as his eyes raked you up and down. Thank god you chose to wear the too short skirt.
“If we’re finished with the formalities I’d like to start our meeting-“
“Ah, Min. This was supposed to be a luncheon. Let’s eat first.” Mr. Kim told him casually, patting him on the shoulder and walking over to the table. “Sashimi! Amazing. Where did you get this from?”
“I got it from Kizuna.” You told him and watched as his eyes lit up.
“Kizuna? Isn’t that place super exclusive?” Mr. Jeon asked in surprise.
“Yes. Very.” You giggled. “It was like pulling teeth trying to get them to do the order for me but, I never settle for anything less than the best.”
“And how did you manage to do that?” Mr. Min asked you in a low voice. You weren’t sure if it was approval or skepticism.
“I may have name-dropped you.” You shrugged and the two others laughed.
“Sometimes it really does come down to who you know.” Mr. Jeon told you and took a look at his plate. “Carbonara is one of my favorites. How did you know? And you got me a steak as well?”
“I did my best guess. I find most decent people like a good carbonara. But, if you found yourself to be non-decent, I had a steak as a backup.” You joked flirtatiously which had Mr. Jeon rightfully blushing while Mr. Min was seething in the corner.
“Only a steak for you again Min? Don’t you want some variety?” Seokjin asked after taking a bite of one of his pieces of fish. The CEO grumbled and didn’t reply, cutting into the meat and making sure it was cooked to temp. Thankfully he had no complaints.
About the steak.
“Where is the wine?” He asked you with irritation settled deep in his tone.
“I’m sorry? I wasn’t aware wine was requested.” You felt yourself go a bit clammy, your heart picking up pace.
“How are we supposed to enjoy our food without a wine pairing?” He looked at you with angry eyes and the other two men shared a glance before Seokjin came to your rescue.
“Min! Give her a break. She’s new, right?” He said lightheartedly and turned to you. “When did you start this position?”
“This morning.” You mumbled.
“Min, come on.” Jungkook groaned. “You’re being too hard on the girl.”
You didn’t know what was making you more nervous. The fact that Mr. Min’s expression did not change and now his designer shoe was tapping against the floors in irritation, or the fact that these two men were pushing him in your favor.
“Thank you for the food.” He finally told you in a monotone voice. “You may be excused now.”
“Next time I’ll make sure you all have a wine pairing. I apologize for the mistake.” You said so low it was almost not audible.
“That’s quite alright. I need to cut back on drinking anyways, I’m too old to be having a glass at every meal.” Seokjin smiled and put you at ease then turned back to Mr. Min who hadn’t taken a single bite from his plate. “So, let’s talk business then shall we?”
“I thought you wanted to eat.” He snapped.
“We can eat and talk! We’re friends here. We can look past talking with our mouths full.” He said, taking another bite of his food before continuing. “So, these products we’re developing are quite something but how do we market them?”
You took that as your chance to exit and slipped out the door quietly while your pulse thrummed loudly in your ears. You took a shaky deep breath to try and calm yourself and headed back to your desk to work on organizing Mr. Mins upcoming weekly affairs. The CEO had finished with his luncheon not long after and came trudging into his office, slamming the door behind him. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him, and tried carrying on with your day. Time passed quickly as you locked in to your work and soon it was time to go and grab his 3:00 coffee.
“Mr. Min?” You called through the door and knocked twice before entering but found he was not at his desk like usual. Instead, he was brooding off to the side while staring aimlessly out of the window.
‘Dramatic fucker.’ You thought to yourself and placed the coffee on his desk. You turned to walk away as you tried to make your exit without any interaction but unfortunately, the efforts failed.
“Never embarrass me at my own company, in front of my colleagues, ever again.” He told you with a stern voice, still looking out the window.
“Embarrass you?” You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to gape at him. “And how exactly did I do that? By bringing the perfect meal? Because I forgot the wine you failed to mention I needed?”
“You came into that conference room completely unprepared and made a scene!” He finally turned to look at you, his teeth gritted as he raised his voice. “Flirting with my fucking branch managers and bragging about name dropping me? Do you have no shame?”
“Flirting?” You threw your head back and laughed and slowly walked in his direction as you verbally fought back. “Please. I was just being polite. I know you’re not familiar with the concept but it works. And name dropping is the only way I got the perfect meal for Mr. Kim-“
Mr. Min suddenly turned to you and charged, making you back up into his wooden desk. His hand grabbed your chin and lifted it to his face to look at him while the other landed on the wood next to you. His body pressed you hard against the sturdy piece of furniture and the hand holding your chin brought your face mere inches from his. You tried to move your head but it was no use, his hold was too firm.
“Why must you challenge me in everything?” He growled at you and you felt frozen, eye wide as you took in how close he was. You swear he could probably hear your heart start to beat quicker. “Has nobody taught you manners? Maybe I should.”
You don’t know what it was. Maybe it was just being so close to the man and being reminded how undeniably hot he really was face to face. Maybe it was the way he was man-handling you, regardless of the fact it was absolutely out of line. You didn’t have time in the moment to analyze why the tension suddenly seemed a bit too hot. All you could focus on was his lips and how close they suddenly were to you. The feeling of his warm breath against your face that smelled of mint gum.
“Then teach me.” You whispered to him while looking up through your lashes, his breath catching in his throat at your words and seemingly bringing him back to reality. He pushed away from you and released your jaw from his large hand and stepped back quickly. Both of you stared at each other in a bit of shock, taking shallow breaths to steady yourselves from the hot moment. For once, you saw a man that always looked cold and strong suddenly look terrified.
“Mr. Min, you don’t have to-“
“Get out of the office and go home.” He told you suddenly, squaring his shoulders and composing himself.
“What? I don’t understand.” Your brows pushed together in confusion as you straightened out your work clothes. “It okay. We can talk about-“
“I said get the fuck out of my office and go home!” His voice echoed through the office, making you flinch. Without warning or ability to control it, you felt tears well up in your eyes and your throat start to get tight. “Go home and work the rest of your shift remotely. Now.”
Mr. Min stepped away and sat back down at his desk without another word while you stayed frozen in shock. It took a moment for you to move and feeling the tears start to stream down your cheeks quickly made you realize you had moments to get out before you broke down.
“Yes, sir.” You whispered, your throat aching from trying to hold back a sob. Without looking back at him once more, you walked quickly out of the room slamming the door shut behind. With shaky hands you gathered your purse off your chair and ran, leaving your work phone and laptop behind.
‘I’m sorry Namjoon.’ You thought to yourself as you finally let yourself start to cry as the doors to the elevator closed behind you. There was no way you could return tomorrow, not after this.
there are places in the world today that are experiencing 40°C for the first time in recorded history. of course there's no way to know whether chucking billionaires into volcanos will appease the sun god but i feel we're doing the scientific method a disservice if we don't at least try
Chicago in the spring was a liar. The calendar claimed winter was over, but the wind whipping between the glass towers downtown still carried enough bite to make people regret leaving their coats at home. The streets below were packed with commuters balancing coffee cups and briefcases, traffic crawling through the Loop beneath a sky painted in shades of pale gray.
Twenty floors above it all, the offices of Jeong & Partners were already alive. Assistants hurried through hallways carrying files. Junior associates practically sprinted toward conference rooms. Partners barked orders before most people had finished their first cup of coffee. And somewhere in the middle of the controlled chaos, you were running late. Again.
The elevator doors slid open and you stepped out, laptop tucked against your side, heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floors. Your outfit was simple, professional, and entirely appropriate for one of Chicago’s most prestigious law firms. A fitted black turtleneck disappeared beneath the lapels of your coat while a tailored plaid skirt hugged your figure, paired with sheer black tights and heels that made navigating the city feel like a competitive sport. You barely looked up as you crossed the bullpen.
You had a deposition in three hours. A mountain of discovery documents on your desk. Three emails from a partner marked urgent. And absolutely no patience for anyone before your first coffee. Unfortunately for you, someone was already watching. From behind the glass walls of a corner office overlooking the city skyline, Yunho looked up from the contract spread across his desk the second you appeared. Like always. It was embarrassing at this point. Years later and he still did it. Every morning. Every damn time.
The moment you stepped onto the floor his attention automatically found you. His eyes followed your path through the office, taking in the familiar sight of you weaving around desks and associates with barely a glance in their direction. His jaw tightened slightly as the skirt moved with every confident step, forcing himself to look away before someone noticed him staring at your ass. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. Because apparently seven years wasn’t enough time to get over a crush. Not law school. Not graduation. Not working together for almost three years. Nothing helped. If anything, seeing you every day only made it worse. Far worse.
A sharp knock pulled him from his thoughts as his assistant stepped into the office. “Jeong, the Montgomery files.” Yunho looked down at the documents in front of him. “Thanks.” The assistant left and Yunho immediately looked back toward your office. Pathetic. Actually pathetic and he knew it. His father knew it. Half the damn firm probably knew it. Yet there he was. Still watching. Still hopeless. Still completely screwed. Then his mood darkened. Because Danny appeared. The new associate. Fresh out of Northwestern. Too eager. Too friendly. And unfortunately very interested in you.
Yunho watched as Danny crossed the floor carrying two coffees. One for himself and one for you. His jaw immediately clenched as Danny stopped outside your office just as you reached your desk. You looked up from your laptop and he flashed a smile, said something Yunho couldn’t hear. Then handed you the coffee and your smile appeared. And Yunho nearly snapped the pen in his hand. The worst part wasn’t even that Danny liked you. Everybody liked you. That wasn’t new. The problem was Danny had the confidence to actually do something about it. While Yunho had spent years pretending he wasn’t completely obsessed.
From your office, you accepted the coffee with a grateful smile and Danny laughed at something you said and you laughed back. And across the floor, Yunho looked one minor inconvenience away from committing several felonies. A moment later his office door opened and his father stepped inside carrying a folder. One glance out the glass wall was all it took and older man sighed. The sigh of a man who had watched this exact situation unfold for years. “Morning, son.” Yunho didn’t answer as his father followed his gaze. Saw Danny. Saw you. Saw the coffee. And immediately understood. “Still haven’t told her?”
Yunho’s eyes never left the scene outside. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right.”
“Not a clue.”
His father nodded then placed the folder on the desk. “You know, most people simply ask someone out.” Yunho finally looked at him. “I’d rather jump off the roof.” His father laughed. “That’s probably easier than whatever it is you’re doing now.” Outside, Danny said something else that made you smile again and Yunho looked away immediately. Because for some reason, that smile had always been his biggest weakness. And unfortunately for him, you had absolutely no idea.
Yunho’s father didn’t look particularly sympathetic. In fact, the older man looked far too entertained for someone standing in the office of a man currently contemplating murder. Outside the glass walls, Danny was still lingering beside your desk, leaning casually against the doorway while you sorted through emails. Whatever he was saying earned yet another laugh from you and Yunho’s eye twitched.
“You’re glaring.”
“I’m working.”
“You’re glaring while working.”
“I’m multitasking.”
His father snorted. “Very professional.” Yunho finally dragged his attention back toward the folder sitting on his desk. “What do you need?” The smile his father gave him instantly made him suspicious. Twenty seven years old and it still worked. Every time that smile appeared, it meant trouble. His father slid a folder across the desk. “New case.” Yunho opened it and froze.
First came confusion. Then disbelief. Then something dangerously close to hope. His father watched every emotion happen in real time.
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
Yunho flipped through the first few pages. Major client. Corporate litigation. Huge account. Millions at stake. The kind of case that could make careers. His eyes landed on the staffing page then stopped. Because directly beneath his own name was yours and for a second he forgot how to breathe as his father folded his arms. “Surprise.” Yunho read it again. Then again just to make sure. Still there. Your name. Partnered with him. For months. Potentially longer. Depositions. Strategy meetings. Client dinners. Travel. Late nights. Court appearances. The entire package.
Slowly, his father sat down across from the desk. “Happy?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
Yunho tossed the folder onto his desk and his father grinned. “You two will be leading it together.” Yunho groaned, putting up that front of his. Denial. False annoyance. “Why?”
“Because you’re my two best associates.”
Yunho immediately narrowed his eyes. “That sounds fake.”
“It’s not.”
“It sounds fake.”
His father laughed. “It is a little fake.” Yunho rolled his eyes. “There it is.” The older man leaned back in his chair. “The client requested our strongest team.”
“And?”
“And unfortunately the two of you are extremely good together.”
Yunho hated that. Not because it wasn’t true. Because it was. You fought constantly. Argued over strategy. Disagreed on nearly everything. But somehow every case the two of you touched ended in a win. The entire firm knew it. Which only made it worse. His father studied him for a moment then sighed. “You know this is probably healthy.” Yunho already hated where this conversation was heading. “Healthy?”
“Yes.”
“Working sixty hour weeks is healthy?”
“No.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
His father pointed toward the bullpen. Toward you. “The time together.” Yunho immediately looked away. “Absolutely not.”
“The kind of time where you’re not obsessing over her from behind glass.” Outside, a group of associates walked past your office while Yunho stared at his father like he’d just committed a crime but the older man just continued. “Maybe you’ll actually have a conversation.”
“I talk to her.”
“You argue with her.”
“Same thing.”
“It is not.”
Yunho rubbed a hand over his face. His father was enjoying this far too much. “You’re being dramatic.” His father nearly choked laughing. “Me?”
“Yes.”
The older man pointed at the floor to ceiling windows. “Son, you’ve spent the last ten minutes watching her drink coffee.”
“That’s not true.”
“You literally stopped listening when she smiled.” Yunho opened his mouth and closed it. Opened it again. Then gave up. Because unfortunately that was exactly what had happened and his father looked positively delighted. “Seven years.”
“Stop.”
“Seven.”
“Please stop.”
“Years.”
Yunho groaned as his father stood and straightened his jacket. “You know, normal people would’ve asked her out by now.”
“I’m not normal.”
“Clearly.” His father moved toward the door then paused and gave one last glance over his shoulder. One final bullet to the head. “Try not to scare her off.” The door closed behind him and Yunho stared at it. Then immediately looked across the office floor straight toward your office. As if sensing it, you looked up and your eyes met through the glass. And for a brief second. One tiny second. Before you rolled your eyes and went back to work….. Yunho felt something in his chest do a complete backflip. Then Danny reappeared carrying another stack of files and just like that, his mood was ruined again.
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The rest of the morning passed exactly how most mornings at Jeong & Partners passed. Chaotically. Emails. Phone calls. Research requests. Partners demanding updates. Clients demanding miracles. By noon, you had almost forgotten about the conversation you’d overheard between two associates discussing some major litigation assignment being announced later that week. Almost. Unfortunately, one particular blond attorney seemed determined to make sure you didn’t forget.
Across the floor, Yunho had spent the better part of the last three hours pretending to work. The keyword being pretending. Because every time he looked up from his desk, he could see your office. Every time he glanced through the glass walls, there you were. Typing. Reading. Arguing with opposing counsel over the phone. Running a hand through your hair when frustrated. And every single time, he had to force himself to focus on something else. The problem was now he knew. Now he knew you’d be working together. Months. Possibly longer. Which meant his already fragile self control was hanging on by a thread. And the worst part? He was excited.
Which was exactly why he needed to be an asshole. The asshole persona was safe. The asshole persona couldn’t accidentally confess he’d been in love with you since constitutional law. The asshole persona couldn’t accidentally admit he remembered what color dress you’d worn to graduation. So the asshole persona stayed and by lunchtime, you were gathering your things. Your laptop disappeared into your bag. You grabbed your phone. A few files. Your wallet. And finally stood from your desk. But the second you stepped into the hallway, a familiar voice appeared like a curse. “Going somewhere?”
You stopped walking and closed your eyes. Counted to three then turned. Yunho stood a few feet away looking irritatingly perfect as usual. The charcoal three piece suit fit him like it had been stitched directly onto his body. His tie had disappeared sometime during the morning, the top button of his white dress shirt undone. The silver blond hair he’d been bleaching for as long as you’d known him fell across his forehead in a way that should’ve looked ridiculous. Instead, annoyingly, it worked. You hated that it worked. You hated that your brain occasionally noticed things like that. Mostly because it was easier to be irritated by him when he wasn’t walking around looking like the human embodiment of an expensive magazine ad of your exact type. “What do you want?”
His mouth immediately twitched. “You know,” he said casually, sliding one hand into his pocket, “most people start conversations with hello.”
“Most people aren’t you.”
“Ouch.”
“Tragic.”
Yunho looked positively delighted and you hated that too. Then again, he always seemed happiest when annoying you. Which honestly said a lot about his mental stability. “So,” he said.
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
“I know enough.”
His grin widened. God, you wanted to throw something at him. “Did you hear the news?” You rolled your eyes so hard it physically hurt. “What news?” For a brief moment something flashed through his expression. Excitement. Then it disappeared beneath the usual cocky smile as Yunho pulled a folder from under his arm and held it out making you frown as you took it and opened it. And immediately froze. Your name. His name. The case assignment. The same realization hit you that had hit him hours earlier. “Oh no.” Yunho laughed. The bastard. “Oh yes.” You looked up. Then back at the paperwork. Then back at him. “No.”
“Afraid so.”
“There has to be a mistake.”
“There isn’t.”
“Your father hates me.”
“My father loves you.” You blinked and Yunho blinked. And for one horrifying second neither of you moved. Then he recovered. Far faster than you did. “Professionally,” he added quickly and your eyes narrowed. “Right.”
“Obviously.”
Neither of you seemed entirely convinced as Yunho cleared his throat. Then leaned slightly closer. Not enough to invade your space. Just enough to be annoying. His favorite distance. The distance that made you aware of him. Made you notice things. Like the expensive cologne. Or the sharp line of his jaw. Or the fact that his eyes always seemed to be looking directly through people. Except when he looked at you. Then they felt entirely too focused. Entirely too attentive. And entirely too dangerous.
His grin returned. Slow and cocky and infuriating. “Looks like you’re mine for the next few months, sweetheart.” You stared at him as you slowly closed the folder and smiled. The kind of smile that made junior associates run. “Oh, Jeong.” Yunho’s stomach immediately dropped. Because that tone never meant anything good. And he hated how it made his dick twitch. “What?” You stepped forward. Close enough to pat his shoulder. Close enough to watch his stupid confident smile falter slightly. “If you call me sweetheart one more time…” Yunho looked amused as you smiled wider. “I’m going to make sure every minute of this case feels like a personal attack.”
For a second silence hung between you. Then Yunho laughed. A real laugh. Low. Warm. Entirely too attractive. And to your absolute horror, the man looked thrilled. Like you’d just promised him a vacation instead of a threat. “Can’t wait, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes and walked away toward the elevators and behind you, Yunho watched you go. Watched until the elevator doors closed. Watched until you disappeared completely. Then let out a slow breath. Because working with you every day for months was either going to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. Or the thing that finally killed him. And honestly? He wasn’t sure which outcome was more likely.
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By the time you returned from lunch, your irritation had somehow gotten worse. Which was impressive. You’d spent nearly forty minutes convincing yourself you were overreacting. Convincing yourself that being assigned to a case with Yunho wasn’t the end of the world. That you were both professionals. That you’d survived law school together. That you’d survived three years working in the same building. You could survive one case. Then you’d walked back into the office and the first thing you’d seen was Yunho leaning against someone’s desk laughing about something. The second thing you’d seen was him noticing you. The third thing was that stupid grin appearing immediately. And suddenly all your progress had disappeared.
Now you stood outside the managing partner’s office. Mr. Jeong’s office. The largest office in the building. Floor to ceiling windows overlooked downtown Chicago while shelves lined with legal awards and framed photographs occupied nearly every wall. Most people were intimidated walking in here. You weren’t. Mostly because you’d known the man for years. The door was already open and Mr. Jeong looked up from a stack of documents when you appeared and a smile immediately pulled at his mouth that looked too much like his son’s. Which should have been your first warning. “Ah.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t ‘ah’ me.” His smile grew. Definitely a warning sign. “Good afternoon, Y/N.”
“You put me on a case with your son.”
“Yes.”
“No explanation?”
“No.”
You stared and he stared back completely unbothered as you dropped into the chair across from his desk. “Why?” The older attorney set down his pen. “Because you’re both excellent attorneys.”
“That’s the official answer?”
“It is.”
“I want the real answer.”
His eyes sparkled and you immediately regretted asking as Mr. Jeong leaned back in his chair. “You know, when you ask a question like that, it makes it sound like working with Yunho is some terrible punishment.”
“It is.”
The man laughed. “That’s harsh.”
“You raised him.”
“I tried my best.”
“You failed.”
“I know.” Another laugh and honestly, it was annoying how much amusement he got from this. You crossed your arms. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Mr. Jeong.”
He sighed dramatically. Then folded his hands on his desk. “The truth?”
“Yes.”
“You two are the best litigators I have.”
You opened your mouth but he raised a finger. “And before you argue, let me finish.” You immediately closed it. Mostly because he was giving you the same look he gave witnesses right before destroying their credibility. “The two of you disagree on everything.”
“Exactly.”
“Which is why you work.” You frowned as he continued. “Yunho sees details nobody else sees.” You hated how true that was. “You see angles nobody else sees.” Unfortunately also true. “You challenge each other.” You rolled your eyes. “We annoy each other.”
“That too.” The older man smiled. “But every single time I put the two of you in the same room, the work gets better.” You couldn’t immediately argue. Which was irritating and Mr. Jeong noticed. Of course he noticed. He noticed everything. “You know what your biggest problem is?”
“I have several.”
“You assume things about my son.” The sudden shift caught you off guard. “What?”
“You assume you already know who he is.”
You leaned back. “And I don’t?”
“No.” The answer came immediately. Without hesitation. Without doubt. And for some reason that bothered you. Mr. Jeong glanced toward the windows. Toward the city beyond them. “He works harder than anyone in this building.” You opened your mouth but he raised a hand again. “I know exactly what people say. Founder’s son.” His voice was calm. “Nepo hire.” Your expression shifted slightly. “Everything handed to him.” The older man smiled. A sadder smile this time. “They’ve been saying it since he first started law school.” Something uncomfortable settled in your stomach. Because if there was one thing you knew about Yunho… he never defended himself. Ever. He’d make a joke. Deflect. Smile. Move on. But he’d never actually defend himself.
Mr. Jeong looked back at you. “The reason I’m putting you together is because I trust both of you.” You nodded slowly. That answer at least felt genuine. Then the older attorney ruined it. “I also think it’ll be entertaining.” You groaned. “Seriously?”
“Very.” The man grinned again. “You should’ve seen his face when I told him.” Your eyes narrowed as Mr. Jeong looked entirely too pleased with himself. “What face?” His grin widened. “The kind that suggested he was trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t happy.” Now you looked suspicious. “Happy?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“Why?”
The older man suddenly became fascinated by a document sitting on his desk. “Oh, who knows.”
“Mr. Jeong.”
“No idea.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“That’s not helping your case.”
“It never does.”
You stared at each other. And the older man looked remarkably smug as you stood. Because you weren’t getting anything useful out of him. “You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
You moved toward the door, reaching for the handle. Then his voice stopped you. “Give him a chance, Y/N.” You paused as Mr. Jeong’s expression had softened. Only a little. But enough. “A chance to what?” His smile returned. Smaller this time. “To genuinely surprise you.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head as you walked out. But for the rest of the afternoon, as annoying as it was, you couldn’t quite get those words out of your head.
Because for the first time in years, a tiny part of you wondered if maybe there was more to Yunho than the arrogant smartass who spent half his life trying to get under your skin. Unfortunately, that thought lasted exactly seven minutes. Because the moment you got back to your office, there was a sticky note on your monitor in familiar handwriting.
Don’t forget our strategy meeting after hours tonight, sweetheart. ❤️
You stared at it long and hard. Then immediately started plotting his murder.
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By five thirty, the office had settled into its usual evening rhythm. Some associates were packing up and heading home. Others were just beginning the second half of their day. The litigation department lived on caffeine, spite, and impossible deadlines, and today was no different. You had spent the last two hours buried beneath discovery documents, deposition transcripts, and a growing headache that felt suspiciously like the beginning of a migraine. Which was why you eventually abandoned your office in search of salvation. Specifically, a Red Bull.
The break room was mercifully empty when you walked in. At least for the first ten seconds. You opened the refrigerator. Found the can you’d stashed there that morning and immediately heard a familiar voice behind you. “Please tell me that’s not your dinner.” You glanced over your shoulder. Danny. Of course. He stood in the doorway carrying a stack of files under one arm. His tie was loosened and his sleeves were rolled up. The picture of an overworked attorney trying very hard to impress someone. Namely you.
“It has vitamins.”
Danny laughed. “That’s not how vitamins work.”
“It is when you’re desperate.”
“You know, normal people eat food.”
You cracked the can open. “Normal people aren’t handling four cases and a psychotic partner.”
“Fair point.”
The two of you fell into easy conversation while you leaned against the counter sipping your drink. Danny was nice. Maybe a little eager. Maybe a little obvious. But nice. The kind of guy who remembered birthdays and probably called his mother every Sunday. Unfortunately for him, he had made the mistake of developing a crush on someone who worked directly across the hall from Yunho. A mistake Yunho was becoming increasingly aware of. Because at that exact moment, Yunho stepped into the break room and stopped.
The sight before him made something unpleasant settle in his chest. You standing beside the counter. Red Bull in hand. Skirt riding up a little. Laughing. And Danny standing entirely too close. Smiling entirely too much. Looking entirely too interested. For a moment, Yunho considered turning around. Walking away. Being mature. Then Danny reached over and brushed something off your sleeve and suddenly maturity became significantly less appealing.
“Well.”
Both you and Danny turned as Yunho stood in the doorway. One hand tucked into his pocket. Expression casual. The kind of casual that usually meant trouble and you immediately sighed. “No.”
“No what?”
“No whatever you’re about to do.”
His smile widened as Danny looked between the two of you. Confused. Concerned. Possibly afraid. Smart man. Yunho ignored him completely. Instead he walked directly toward the coffee machine. “You know,” he said, “I was wondering why productivity suddenly dropped on this floor.”
Danny blinked. “What?”
Yunho pressed a button on the machine. “Oh, nothing.” The machine whirred as you narrowed your eyes. Because you knew that tone. “So what was the cause?” Danny asked and Yunho looked over his shoulder. Smiling. “Apparently extended social visits during work hours.”
You nearly laughed despite yourself. Danny looked offended. “I was grabbing files.”
“Mm.”
“I was.”
“Of course.”
Danny frowned again. “You got a problem?” Dangerous question. Very dangerous question. Because Yunho’s smile never slipped. Not even slightly. “I don’t think I said I did.”
“You implied it.”
“I implied many things.”
Danny’s jaw tightened as you pinched the bridge of your nose. Because this was exactly what you didn’t need. Two men posturing in the break room like they were in a nature documentary. Somewhere a narrator was probably explaining mating rituals as Yunho finally turned around. Coffee in hand. Expression pleasant. Far too fucking pleasant. “How long have you worked here now, Danny?” The younger associate frowned. “Four months.”
“Interesting.”
Danny looked even more confused. “What is?”
Yunho took a sip. “The confidence.”
You closed your eyes. There it is. There was the antagonizing. Subtle enough that nobody could technically accuse him of anything. But sharp enough to draw blood. Danny folded his arms. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
Yunho grinned. God, he was annoying when he grinned like that because he looked even more attractive. “It means four months is impressive.” Danny stared. You stared. Even Yunho seemed amused by his own answer. “You’re impossible,” you muttered and immediately his eyes found yours. And just like that, all his attention shifted. The irritation. The jealousy. The possessiveness he’d been fighting all afternoon. Hidden again. Buried beneath that infuriating grin. “You say the sweetest things.”
You rolled your eyes as Danny looked between the two of you. Then realization slowly crossed his face. Not complete realization. But enough. Enough to notice something was off. Enough to notice that Yunho watched you differently. Enough to notice that Yunho had entered the room focused entirely on him and somehow ended up focused entirely on you. Yunho noticed the realization too. Which was exactly why he smiled even wider. A warning disguised as amusement. Danny wasn’t stupid. “Right,” Danny said awkwardly, gathering his files. “I’ve got to finish those motions.”
“Good luck,” Yunho said as he left and silence settled over the room as you slowly turned toward Yunho. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You know exactly what.”
“I really don’t.”
“Liar.”
Yunho leaned against the counter beside you. Close enough to annoy you. Far enough to remain technically innocent. His favorite game. “I was getting coffee.”
“You were antagonizing Danny.”
“He seems sensitive.”
Yunho took another sip of his coffee as you took another sip of your Red Bull. The silence between you wasn’t comfortable. It never was. Not because it was awkward. Because it always felt like something was happening beneath it. Some current neither of you acknowledged. Some invisible tug of war that had existed for years. You were glaring at him and Yunho seemed entirely unbothered by that fact.
“What?” you asked.
“What?”
“You’re staring.”
His mouth twitched. “I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“Maybe you’re just distracting.”
You groaned immediately. “There he is.”
“There who is?”
“The world’s most annoying attorney.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
You rolled your eyes. A habit he was personally responsible for. For a moment neither of you moved. Then Yunho’s expression shifted slightly. Not enough that most people would’ve noticed. But you knew him. You’d known him for years. You knew when he was about to say something annoying. You knew when he was about to start a fight. You knew when he was about to push your buttons just because he could. And right now? Something else flickered behind his eyes. Something sharper.
His gaze drifted toward the door Danny had disappeared through. Then back to you. “You know he’s wants to fuck you, right?” You nearly choked on your drink. “Jesus fucking Christ Yunho.” The room felt smaller all of a sudden. The air heavier. Like something had shifted. You could feel it as Yunho pushed away from the counter and took a step closer and you took another drink from your Red Bull. Mostly to give yourself something to do. Yunho’s coffee had long been forgotten. It sat abandoned on the counter while he leaned against it beside you.
His gaze drifted over your face before he suddenly asked, “What happened to Kevin?” You blinked, furrowing your brows. The question caught you completely off guard. “What?”
“Kevin.” He shrugged. “The boyfriend. Haven’t seen him come by in a while.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Why do you know his name?” Yunho immediately realized his mistake. Because he absolutely shouldn’t know his name. Not with the confidence he’d just said it. Not unless he’d been paying attention. A lot of attention. Which unfortunately he had. For years. His recovery came quickly. “He picked you up from work like fifty times.” That was fair. Kevin had practically lived in the firm’s lobby for a year. “Why?” Yunho looked down at his coffee. Acting casual. “No reason.”
“He’s gone.”
Something sharp flickered behind Yunho’s eyes at your answer. Gone. As in gone gone. “When?”
“Months ago.” That got his attention. “Months?” You nodded. “Five.” Yunho stared at you. Five months. You’d been single for five months. And somehow he was only finding out now. For a brief moment he wondered if he’d actually died and nobody told him. Then he remembered he was supposed to be acting normal. So instead he asked, “What happened?”
You sighed. The kind of sigh that carried old irritation. “He cheated.” Yunho’s jaw tightened. Not because he was surprised. He wasn’t. He’d known. Hell, he’d been the one who made sure you found out. An anonymous email. Photos attached. No name. No explanation. Just evidence. Enough evidence that Kevin never had a chance of talking his way out of it. To this day you had no idea who sent it and Yunho intended to keep it that way. “He cheated,” you repeated, shaking your head. “A year and a half together and apparently that wasn’t enough.”
Yunho looked away. Because if he looked directly at you right now he was going to say something reckless. Something honest. And honesty around you had always been dangerous. “You have terrible taste in men.” The words slipped out before he could stop them and you laughed. A genuine laugh. The first one he’d heard from you in a long time. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”
“I’m serious.”
“You think every guy is terrible.”
“No.”
You tilted your head. “No?”
Yunho looked back at you slowly. And something in his expression started shifting. Softening. Dangerously. “No,” he said quietly. “Just the ones you date.” The laugh died in your throat and neither of you moved as Yunho’s gaze dropped briefly. Just for a second. Taking in the skirt you’d worn that morning again. The one he’d been trying not to notice all day. Then his eyes lifted back to yours. “You settle.”
Your eyebrows pulled together. “What?”
“You settle.” His voice remained calm. “You keep picking men who don’t deserve you.” For once there wasn’t a joke attached. No sarcasm. No smirk. Just honesty. Raw and unfiltered. And somehow that was far more dangerous than any of his usual flirting. He shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. Almost disbelieving. As if he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “You know what the problem is?”
“What?”
His smile returned. Smaller this time. Less cocky and more personal. “The second someone gets your attention they stop trying.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Yunho looked away briefly. Because he knew exactly what it meant. It meant he couldn’t imagine taking you for granted. Couldn’t imagine looking elsewhere. Couldn’t imagine spending years wanting someone only to risk losing them. When he looked back at you, his gaze had darkened, something settling there you couldn’t quite decipher just yet. “If I had you in my bed every night….” He leaned down, moving closer until his mouth was right at your ear. “no other woman would exist to me.”
It’s like your brain just stopped computing. His words slammed into you like a truck and you had no idea how to respond to that. Especially when the feel of his lips just barely brushing your ear still lingered as a cough cleared from the doorway. Yunho backed away from you casually. Like he hadn’t almost had you pinned to the counter. Mr. Jeong stood in the doorway, his gaze going back and forth. First you. Then his son. Then back again with a hint of amusement. “Am I interrupting something.”
“Not at all.” Yunho picked his coffee back up. “I was just asking Y/N if she’s coming to my place tonight so we can start briefing and going over our new case.” He looked way too smug. “Excuse me?” You broke out of your daze quickly, glaring at him. “I am not going over alone to your place. We can go to my place. My roommate will be home but he shouldn’t bother us.” Roommate. Yunho knew exactly who you were talking about. Wooyoung. Yunho had seen him visiting you a few different times back in law school. He also brought you lunch sometimes now. Always had thick eyeliner. Tattoos. A wicked little smirk he liked to throw at anyone who piqued interest.
“Sounds like a plan.” Yunho grinned again and his father gave you both one last look before walking away. You groaned. Last thing you needed was to be alone or semi alone with Yunho outside of work.
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“I need you to stay home tonight.” You were practically begging into your phone. Wooyoung snorted obviously intrigued and confused. “And here I was planning to get my back blown out tonight.”
“Woo, I’m serious.” You hissed and looked up catching Yunho in his office through the glass wall. He noticed you and smirked and had the audacity to wave at you. “Look…. I have this new case. It’s a big one and…..” You paused. Hesitated. “I have to… I have to do it with Yunho.” The silence on the other end of the call was deafening for one second. Two. Three. Four. “OH MY GOD!” Wooyoung laughed, actually cackled. “You’re kidding me. You’ve wanted to climb that man like a tree since law school.”
“I HAVE NOT.” You didn’t mean to yell. One of the newer attorneys passing by your office jumped at your outburst which to your luck also caught Yunho’s attention. “I have not.” You repeated much lower this time and you could practically hear Wooyoung roll his through the phone. “Please.” He scoffed. “You told me yourself that you and I quote, want to choke him with that annoying tie and make him beg for it.”
You gasped. “I was drunk.” You hissed. It was on Wooyoung’s birthday. Right after you left your ex. Turns out all your dirty little secrets weren’t so secret with tequila in your system. “Drunk words are true thoughts or whatever.” Wooyoung said and you just know he was grinning. “I hate him!” You snapped which at this point wasn’t true at all. He annoyed you most the time. Made you question whether you wanted to slam his face into a wall or drop to your knees. And after Mr. Jeong told you to give his son a chance…. No. Absolutely not.
“If you hate him that just means the sex will be amazing.” Wooyoung was enjoying this way too much. “There will be no sex.” You immediately regretted saying that because of course. Of course! The devil himself was leaning in your office doorway, brow raised looking far too amused at whatever parts of the conversation he was picking up. “Just be home.” You told Wooyoung before ending the call and clearing your throat. “What do you want? Other than eavesdropping.”
Yunho let out a laugh under his breath and that sound immediately made you suspicious. “What?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Nothing.” He shrugged but he was smiling too smugly for your liking. “You’re smiling.”
“Am I?”
“You are literally smiling.”
His grin only widened. Which meant he was absolutely about to be annoying. Wonderful. Fan fucking tastic. You crossed your arms. “Spit it out, Jeong.” Yunho tilted his head slightly, that damned silver blonde hair falling across his forehead as his gaze flicked briefly toward your phone before returning to you. “Well,” he said casually, “I just found one part of that conversation particularly interesting.”
Your stomach dropped and you muttered under your breath. You were going to kill Wooyoung. And Yunho. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” His smile sharpened. “The part where you informed whoever that was that there would be no sex.” Heat immediately flooded your face. “Jesus Fucking Christ Yunho.” You were starting to wish you got paid for every time he got that out of you.
“So there was sex on the table at some point?”
“There was never sex on the table.”
“Interesting wording.”
“Yunho.”
“Just asking questions.”
“You are a lawyer. You get paid to twist words.”
“True.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Still doesn’t answer my question.” You stared at him, eye twitching and he just stared right back. Completely shameless. And the worst part? He looked unfairly good doing it. You hated that your brain insisted on being horny every time he was around. You pointed toward the door. “Get out.”
Yunho laughed. A real one. Warm and Low. And unfortunately dangerously attractive. “See, now I’m curious.”
“You should be billing hours.”
“I am billing hours.”
“You are standing in my office harassing me.”
“Multitasking.”
“That isn’t how billing works.”
“It is when you’re talented.”
You made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a threat and Yunho’s grin somehow widened further. Then, unfortunately, his gaze drifted lower. Only for a second once again. But you caught it. The way his eyes flicked over the way your skirt rode up from sitting and your pulse did something stupid.
“So,” he said.
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I know enough.”
His eyes narrowed playfully. “You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you spend an impressive amount of energy thinking about me.”You nearly choked. “Excuse me?” You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Immediately. Right now. “I’m just wondering…..” You immediately cut him off. “About what?” His gaze held yours. “Whether you’ve really hated me all these years.” The question caught you off guard. And for a moment the office felt quieter. The sounds of phones ringing and conversations outside seeming farther away. You looked away first. A big mistake on your part. Because Yunho noticed everything. He always had. A slow smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “There it is.”
“There what is?” You snapped.
“You didn’t answer.”
You hated that he was right. You hated it even more because you weren’t entirely sure what the answer was anymore as Yunho pushed away from the doorway. “See you at your place.” He turned to walk back to his office. The two of you only had an hour before you got off. “You don’t even know where I live.” You called after him and Yunho didn’t even glance back as he answered.
“Don’t I.”
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The entire drive home was torture. Not because of traffic. Not because downtown Chicago was a nightmare at six o’clock. But because every single red light gave your brain more time to replay the conversation and how Yunho asked whether you’ve really hated him all these years. You tightened your grip on the steering wheel. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.
Seven years of knowing Yunho Jeong and somehow that stupid question had managed to lodge itself directly inside your skull. You’d spent years calling him arrogant. Annoying. Insufferable. None of those things were technically lies. But lately… things felt different. And you hated that.
By the time you pulled into the parking garage beneath your apartment building,you had a headache. Perfect. Exactly what you needed before spending an entire evening trapped with Yunho. You grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and headed upstairs and the second you stepped through the apartment door, the smell hit you. Pizza. You closed your eyes. Thank God.
“Kitchen.” Wooyoung’s voice carried through the apartment as you kicked off your heels near the door and followed it. Sure enough, Wooyoung was leaning against the kitchen island wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, a slice of pepperoni in one hand while two pizza boxes sat open on the counter. His eyes immediately found you and narrowed. “Oh.”
You froze. “What?”
Wooyoung pointed his pizza at you. “You’re spiraling.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
You dropped your bag onto one of the stools. “I’m fine.” Wooyoung laughed as he took a bite. “Liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You walked into this apartment like someone just told you the IRS was outside.”
You glared at him as Wooyoung took another bite. Still staring. Still judging. Still entirely too observant for your liking. Then his eyes widened like a lightbulb went off in his head. “Oh my God.” You immediately regretted everything. “What now?”
“You really do want him.”
“No.”
“YOU DO.”
“I DON’T.”
Wooyoung practically slapped the counter. “You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You literally sound twelve.”
You grabbed a paper plate. “I’m getting pizza.” Wooyoung gasped at you. “You are avoiding the conversation.” You shook your head as you grabbed two slices. “I’m hungry.” You shoved a slice into your mouth as Wooyoung folded his arms then smirked. A dangerous smirk. The kind that usually meant somebody’s life was about to become significantly more difficult. “Did something happen?”
“No.”
“You hesitated.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
You sighed dramatically. Because unfortunately something had happened. Not a big thing. Not really. Just enough things. Enough tiny moments. Enough comments. Enough looks. Enough questions. Enough of Yunho being… Yunho. And now your brain refused to shut up about it. Refused to forget the way his lips felt grazing your ear…. Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed further. “What did he say?” You stared at your pizza. Bad sign. Very bad sign. Because now Wooyoung looked genuinely interested. “Oh, this is serious.”
You chewed at your pizza, hesitant before swallowing. “He told me… he told me if he…” you could still hear the way his voice had dropped when he said it. “If he had me in bed every night then… no other woman would exist to him.” The silence was loud because Wooyoung was never silent and somehow now…. he was speechless. You watched him blink. Once. Twice. Then he slowly set his pizza down on the counter. “Oh.”
You hated that response. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Woo.”
“Nothing.”
“Wooyoung.”
His eyes snapped back to yours. “Y/N.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He grinned. “Because I think I just witnessed the moment your life became a romantic comedy. A very hot romantic comedy.” You groaned. “Oh my God. Shut up.”
“No, seriously.” He pointed at you. “Do you have any idea how insane that is. He was flirting. Practically throwing himself at you.” You shook your head in complete denial. “He was not.”
“Yes he was.”
“No he wasn’t.”
Wooyoung stared at you a second before shaking his head. “Jesus Christ.” You groaned. “What now?” He rolled his eyes in pure exasperation. “You really don’t see it.” Your brows furrowed, your voice muffled around the bite of pizza. “See what?”
“The fact that Yunho Jeong has been down catastrophically bad for you since law school.”
You choked a little and pointed your pizza at him. “Don’t say that.”
“Make me.”
“You are impossible.”
“Again,” Wooyoung said, “he practically through himself at you.”
“He did not.”
“Y/N.”
“He did not.”
“Y/N.”
You groaned loudly. Because the problem wasn’t that Wooyoung was wrong. The problem was that for the first time… you weren’t entirely convinced he was. Your gaze drifted toward the clock on the microwave. Yunho would be here soon. And suddenly the thought of being alone with him felt very different than it had this earlier. Dangerously different.
You quickly finished eating your pizza and didn’t even glance at Wooyoung as you headed towards the bathroom. “I’m getting a shower before Satan gets here.” The bathroom door slammed shut behind you. Your clothes came off achingly slow. You sat your phone on the sink counter, letting music play to try and clear your head. Steam poured into the room as the water rushed out the shower head. Scolding and too hot. You adjusted it and stepped in letting the water try and fail to wash away your spiraling thoughts.
“He was not throwing himself at me.” You didn’t believe yourself anymore though. Because in the comfort of the shower you started to think. How in law school Yunho would always been standing outside your civil procedure class and would finally go in once you showed up. How he once brought handed you coffee on graduation day because he happened to have an extra but it tasted like your favorite. How he mentioned his dad’s law firm had an opening and you thought he was trying to annoy you and then next day you got a call from Mr. Jeong himself…..
“Oh my god…” you stopped washing your hair as the realization slammed into you. “he was throwing himself at me.” Holy shit. It should have been obvious. Your heart was pounding now because Yunho on his way over. You were both about to spend insane amounts of time together in the near future for this case. And he likes you. “Fuck!” You almost slipped, your hand shooting out your grab at the shower curtain.
What were you supposed to do? What if you were crazy? Imagining it? What if Wooyoung had gotten inside your head? But even as the thoughts came, they felt weaker. Less convincing. Because the truth was becoming impossible to ignore. The truth was that this wasn’t just physical anymore. Wasn’t just finding him attractive. Wasn’t just noticing the way his suits fit. Or the way his hair fell into his eyes. Or the way his voice always seemed lower when he spoke directly to you.
Somewhere along the way, something had changed. Something dangerous. Something that made your pulse race every time he looked at you too long. Something that made the thought of him showing up at your front door feel terrifying and exciting all at once.
You closed your eyes. And finally admitted the thing you’d been avoiding for years. “Shit.” Because the problem wasn’t that Yunho liked you. The problem was that you liked him too. Because now every want and needy thought you’ve ever had about him shifted from just physical attraction to something else. Something crazy. Completely and totally insane. “Oh my god.” You wanted him too and that realization refused to leave.
Even after you finished washing your hair. Even after you stood beneath the spray for another five minutes pretending your life hadn’t just completely unraveled. By the time you finally shut the water off, your fingers were wrinkled and your thoughts were somehow worse. “Great.” You grabbed a towel. “Fantastic.” You wrapped another towel around your hair as you stepped out of the shower. “Wonderful.” The mirror was fogged over completely. Which was probably for the best. You didn’t need to see the expression on your own face right now.
Because apparently after seven years of arguing with Yunho, you had finally realized you had feelings for him. Feelings. Actual feelings. You wanted to throw yourself out a window. But unfortunately you lived on the eighteenth floor. You tightened the towel around yourself and stormed toward the door. This was Wooyoung’s fault. Entirely his fault. If he’d just kept his mouth shut, you’d still be blissfully ignorant. Or trying to be anyways.
The second the bathroom door opened, you were already talking. “This is your fault.” You marched into the hallway. “You couldn’t just mind your own business for once in your life.” The living room came into view. “And now I have to spend the entire evening pretending I don’t have feelings for….” You screamed. The kind of scream usually reserved for horror movies and home invasions. Because Yunho was sitting on your couch now looking equally startled for approximately half a second before he started laughing.
“Oh my God!” Your hand flew to your chest, gripping your towel. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Across the room, Wooyoung was absolutely useless. In fact, he looked delighted. “There she is!” You glared at your best friend before your gaze snapped back toward Yunho. Which was a mistake. A huge mistake. Because somehow seeing him outside the office felt different. The charcoal suit jacket was gone. Tossed over the back of the couch. His tie hung loose around his neck. The top button of his white dress shirt had disappeared. The sleeves were pushed up to his forearms. And somehow that looked more intimate than if he’d shown up wearing nothing but sweatpants.
You hated that thought immediately as Yunho’s eyes flicked over you, dragging down and staring at where the fluffy pink towel you had ended just barely covering anything. Then he looked directly at the ceiling and a muscle jumped in his jaw. And of course Wooyoung noticed. The bastard looked like Christmas had come early. “You know,” Wooyoung said casually, “most people greet guests when they arrive.”
“I was in the shower!”
“Clearly.”
You groaned. Because somehow this day had gone from bad to catastrophic. And the worst part? The absolute worst part? You’d just spent twenty minutes realizing you had feelings for Yunho. Then immediately walked into your living room wearing nothing but a towel. Wooyoung looked between the two of you grinning as you backed toward the hallway, tightening your grip on the towel again. “I’m getting dressed.”
“Probably for the best,” Wooyoung agreed and you glared at him. Then at Yunho. Then immediately regretted looking at Yunho because he was already looking at you. “Five minutes,” you muttered before disappearing down the hall and into your room and slamming the door behind you.
Silence settled over the apartment. Or at least it should have. Instead, Yunho found himself staring at the wall. His brain had stopped cooperating somewhere around the moment you’d walked into the living room. Not because of the towel. Well. Not entirely because of the towel. It was the fact that you’d looked completely caught off guard. Completely real. Not the sharp tongued attorney who spent every workday arguing with him. Not the woman who could dismantle opposing counsel with a single question.
Just you.
Then his mind drifted. The way when you had turned around he could see a glimpse of your ass peaking from the bottom of the towel. “Well,” Wooyoung’s voice snapped him out of it. “I’m going to my room. I have a new season….” Yunho stopped listening again as Wooyoung disappeared down the same hall you had. He’s wanted you for seven years. Obsessed over you. Yearned over you. Might of moaned your name a few times during one night stands. And now he was sitting here in your apartment and had the perfect opportunity to finally try and have you. “Shit.” Why did he feel nervous? He doesn’t get nervous.
The apartment felt strangely quiet when you stepped back into the hallway. For a moment you simply stood there. Yunho was exactly where you’d left him. Sitting on the couch. One arm stretched across the back cushion. The case file sitting untouched on the coffee table. And he was staring at absolutely nothing. Lost somewhere inside his own head. You’d never known Yunho to be quiet.
The floor creaked beneath your foot and his head turned. And immediately his eyes found you. His gaze dropped before he could stop it. Legs. Bare from mid thigh down. Your black shorts doing nothing to cover them. His jaw tightened and his eyes immediately snapped back to yours. And for the first time all day, Yunho looked caught. Actually caught. Not cocky. Not smug. Caught.
Something about that made your stomach flip. “Nice staring,” you called him out and his eyebrow lifted. “Nice outfit.” You rolled your eyes. “There he is.” He grinned, eyes lighting up. “Missed me?”
“Not even a little.”
“Liar.” The word came automatically. Like breathing. Like every conversation you’d ever had together. Yet somehow tonight it felt different. Softer and more familiar. Your gaze drifted toward the coffee table. Toward the thick litigation folder sitting there. Thank God. Something normal. “Did you at least bring the case file?” Yunho followed your gaze and let out a quiet laugh. “I did.”
“Good.”
“Look at us.”
You frowned. “What?”
“Being responsible.”
“We’re attorneys.”
“Debatable.”
You snorted before you could stop yourself and Yunho’s expression immediately brightened. Like he’d just won something. Idiot. You hesitated another second before finally crossing the room. Every step felt weirdly loud and noticeable. The couch suddenly looked much smaller than it was. You hated that. You hated it even more because Yunho seemed perfectly relaxed. Until you sat down. Then his entire body went subtly rigid. The cushion dipped beneath your weight, thigh ending up far closer to his than either of you probably expected.
The scent of your shampoo drifted through the air as you reached forward grabbing the case file before your brain could focus on anything else. “Okay,” you said, opening it onto your lap. “Work.”
“Work,” Yunho agreed. The word sounded strangely disappointed but you ignored that as you flipped hrough the first few pages. “Corporate fraud.”
“Mm.”
“Thousands of pages of discovery.”
“Mm.”
You glanced over but Yunho wasn’t looking at the file. He was looking at you. You cleared your throat finding it harder now to focus on anything other than your newly accepted feelings for him. “So…” you looked back towards the file, scanning words but not reading any of them. “this is a pretty big case…”
“I want you.”
You froze and you could practically hear the panic in Yunho’s voice. “Shit…” he did not mean to say that out loud. Not like that. “I mean…. I uh…” he shook his head. Because fuck it. “Actually…. Yeah. I want you. Fuck.” He let out a humorless laugh. “It’s driving me crazy for the better part of a decade.” When he looked at you, you were still staring at the file. Frozen. Shocked. “Look…. I know you…. Kind of hate me. I mean…. I do…”
“I don’t hate you.” Your voice was quiet, heart beating so loud you were sure Wooyoung could hear it from his room. Because Wooyoung was right. Your shower spiraling was right. Yunho had feelings for you. “I don’t think I ever hated you. You could just be…. a pain in the ass.” Yunho snorted despite his confession making him nervous. “I was only like that because I never wanted someone like that before. And I couldn’t afford distractions in law school. So I… tried blocking you out… it just made it worse.”
You turned to him, narrowing your eyes. “So you just decided to be like some third grader pulling at my pigtails.” He laughed then. A full on real laugh. “Something like that.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re an absolute idiot.” It got silent for a moment. You both just stared at each other until Yunho looked away. “Idiot might be understatement. I…. there’s something you should know.” He hesitated. Because what he was about to say was probably gonna make actually hate him. But he couldn’t shoot his shot without the truth being out. Otherwise it would eat him alive.
“What is it?” You furrowed because he liked serious. Like what he had to say was more serious than his arguments defending anyone in court. “I knew your boyfriend cheated on you. I saw him…”
“It was you.” You cut him off. Of course it was Yunho. He never could mind his own business. “You sent me that email. The pictures….. what you just…. followed him?” Yunho scoffed like he was offended. “I didn’t follow anyone.” He shrugged. “I hired a private investigator.”
“Oh my god…” you laughed. Because what were you supposed to say? Were you meant to be mad? Mad that he caught your boyfriend cheating and found a somewhat weird to tell you? “you’re obsessed with me.” You were joking. Kind of. Mainly teasing but Yunho didn’t deny. In fact his demeanor shifted. He sat up, and when his gaze met yours again…. it had darkened. Sharpened into something heated and hungry that made your stomach twist and your thighs to almost clench together.
“I told you…” the tone of his voice had dropped. Which was dangerous. Because Yunho’s voice was already deep. Intoxicating if you will. But right now….. you couldn’t help but remember the break room and that same tone against your…. “that if you had me in your bed no other woman would exist to you.” You finished for him and it was like all that tension that built for the last seven years snapped.
“Wrong.” Yunho’s gaze dropped to your legs, taking his time to work his way up, pausing at your lips and staying there. “No other woman exist to me since that first day you told me to fuck off.”
You knew the two of you should probably talk. Actually talk. Go over everything. Have that real, I like you, you like me, speech…. but you were over it. Seven years of him driving you crazy. Seven years of him obsessing over you…. your own gaze fell to the loose tie around his neck and you remembered that little drunk confession you gave Wooyoung.
“What are you….” Yunho froze when you reached out and grabbed his tie. You gripped it, thumb rubbing against the material. “You want to know what I was talking about…. when you were eavesdropping at work?” You looked at him and your gaze was almost as dark and hungry as his. Yunho gulped, remembering that phone call. He hadn’t heard much other than you proclaiming no sex. “Wooyoung was reminding me of a dirty little secret.”
“Yeah?” Yunho was gone. He was gone the second you grabbed his tie. You could tell him to get on the floor right now and bark me he probably would. Because the way you’re looking at him. Like you’re imagining every detail of him under his clothes. Like you could see his dick twitch in his pants when you tugged his tie a little. “Mhm.” You started scooting closer on the couch, your thigh brushing against his leg now. “Apparently I told him I wanted to choke you with this tie” you gave his tie another tug for emphasis. “and make you beg for it.”
You both just stared at each other for a moment before leaned his head back, let out a groan and then looked back at you completely undone. “Fuck me.” He grabbed you, your grip on his tie tightening as he pulled you into his lap. Your lips met messy. Desperately. Needy. You moaned into because now you could feel him. Feel the bulge in his pants where his dick had started getting hard the second you grabbed his tie. Could feel his dick twitch when your tongues collided. And you moaned when he pulled back just enough to start kissing down your neck, lips grasping at any skin available within the tank top you had on.
“Fuck…” Yunho was the one moaning now as you kept your grip on his tie and started rocking, grinding. His dick aching in his pants as you rode him. “You gonna beg for me, Yunho?” He wanted to say no. It was instinct. He never begged before in his life. He always had control. But for you…. “Make me.”
“I bet you don’t last two minutes.” You said it so sure of yourself and that alone made him want to give in. He watched you, pupils blown, dick practically screaming to be let out and buried inside you already. You reached down with the free hand that wasn’t still gripping his tie and palmed him through his pants. His bulge alone was big and you could only imagine what he had zipped up underneath. And Yunho? He just sat there, his breath already uneven as your fingers worked at his belt and zipper with deliberate slowness.
The apartment around you felt charged, the spring air from Chicago filtering through a cracked window doing little to cool the heat building between your bodies. You tugged his pants and underwear down just enough, freeing his dick. It sprang out, thick and heavy, the tip already flushed and aching with a bead of precum that caught the low light.
A low groan rumbled from his chest the moment your hand wrapped around him, and you felt it twitch hard against your palm, pulsing with need as if it had a mind of its own. You stroked him once, twice, dragging your thumb over the slit to spread that slickness, savoring how his hips jerked forward involuntarily. His tie remained clenched in your other hand, anchoring him in place while you worked him in unhurried strokes that made his thighs tense and his knees weaken slightly. Every vein along his length throbbed under your grip, the heat of him radiating into your skin as you took your time exploring every inch.
You shifted closer on the couch, using the head of his dick to hook the edge of your shorts and panties and with a slow push, you moved the fabric aside, exposing your soaked pussy to the cool air. Instead of taking him inside you, you guided him between your folds, letting the length glide along your slick. The underside of his dick pressing right against your clit as you rocked your hips, using him like a toy to rub slow circles. Each pass sent sparks through you, your grip on his tie tightening while your strokes on him matched the rhythm.
Yunho's jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck standing out as he fought to stay still, but his dick kept twitching between your folds, leaking more with every glide. You could feel the way his tip caught just slightly on your entrance before sliding up again, teasing without entering, building that unbearable friction against your swollen clit. His breathing grew ragged, eyes locked on where your bodies met, pupils blown wide with the effort of holding back as you kept the pace torturously steady, riding the length of him without letting him slip in, your clit grinding down on the ridge of his tip again and again in deliberate, dragging motions that made your own thighs quiver.
The wet sounds of your arousal coating him filled the room, mixing with his soft curses under his breath. “Fuck sweetheart..” His control frayed at the edges with every pass, shoulders rigid, fingers digging into the couch cushions as he resisted the urge to thrust up into you. You edged him mercilessly, slowing your strokes whenever his dick pulsed too hard, drawing out the moment until the tension built in his body like a coiled spring. The pressure mounted in your own core too, each glide pushing you closer until your own orgasm hit. Your thighs shook, a soft cry escaping as you came against him, slick coating him further and dripping down him. That was when he broke.
“Fuck… please ok! Please let me fuck you,” Yunho gasped out, voice strained and desperate, his hands trembling as they gripped your hips. And the second you nodded, he moved. Strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he stood. He didn’t wait, didn’t tease, he lined up and impaled you down onto his dick in one deep thrust. The stretch burned in the best way, forcing a sharp cry from your throat as he filled you completely, thick and unyielding, your walls clenching around every inch of him.
He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, then his fingers dug into your thighs and he started pounding up into you. Each thrust drove deep, the force making your body bounce against him while you clung to his tie and shoulders like a lifeline. The living room filled with the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin and there was no way Wooyoung wasn’t hearing all of this with the way your moans grew louder until you screamed his name, your pussy clenching hard as you squirted around him, soaking his dick and thighs in a rush of release that stained dripped and stained the carpet below you.
“Which one is your bedroom?” Yunho asked, his voice hoarse with need. Still buried inside you, “the…. one on the right down the hall…” you were breathless as he carried you there without pulling out, every step making him shift and press deeper, his dick nudging against sensitive spots and wedging against your g spot that had you gasping. He wasted no time getting you on the bed, his gaze catching site of the mirror angled perfectly toward it and grinned, dark and hungry as you both made quick haste of getting your clothes off, tossing them aside until nothing remained between you.
He grabbed you, pulling your body flush to his. “Look at the mirror,” he ordered, sinking to his knees between your legs. “Watch how I make you beg for it.” His tongue thrusted into your pussy in firm, wet strokes that had you arching instantly. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging at the bleached strands as the pleasure built fast and sharp. Your legs shook, cries spilling out, “fuck…. Yunho… please… please make me come…. I need…” you started grinding against his face and he didn’t let up until you shattered again, body trembling and pulsing around his tongue.
Yunho kissed his way back up your body, slow and deliberate, pausing when you eyed his dick and he smirked. “If you want a taste all you have to do is take it.” You shook your head, pulling him closer. “Next time,” you breathed, needing him inside you again too badly to wait. Too impatient for it. “Fuck…” he had to hold back from saying, Fuck I love you, instead, he flipped you onto your stomach, holding you down and positioning you to face the mirror.
The head of his dick teased between your pussy and ass, sliding back and forth in lazy passes that made you whimper and push back. After a minute of that torment he sank back into you with a single thrust, your walls instantly clenching around him as one of his hands fisted in your hair, tilting your head toward the reflection of the mirror. The sight of him over you, buried inside you staring back a painted sin. “Watch…. watch how my dick is about to make you mine.”
He started fucking you hard, hips snapping forward in deep, relentless strokes that had you babbling, begging, “harder…. harder….. deeper… Yunho please…” and he gave it to you. Hands gripping your waist, hard, as he grinded into you, “you feel so fucking good, sweetheart….” he paused for a moment just to feel you clenching around him, then, just as the pressure peaked, he pulled out and flipped you and folded you a little, your legs pressed up and over his shoulders.
He tapped his dick against your clit a few times before sinking back in, his hands moving your legs to pin your thighs down as you watched in the mirror as you started squirting again, making a mess over both of you. Ruining the new sheets you only bought a few days ago after Wooyoung spilled his iced coffee on your others. The sight spurred him on, his pace turning brutal. “You’re mine. Pussy… mine. All of you. Mine.” Maybe he was a little possessive.
Your back arched as another orgasm crashed through you, sobs and cries tearing free but Yunho didn’t stop. He kept pounding, chasing his own release until he buried himself deep and came with a groan, filling you until he you milked him almost dry then he collapsed on top of you, still buried inside, his weight comforting as you rubbed slow circles over his back, a soft chuckle escaping you. “You begged for it.” He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes with a satisfied grin curving his own lips.
“So did you.”
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
The next morning felt strange. Not bad strange. But an awkward kind of strange. For seven years, you and Yunho had existed in this bizarre limbo of arguments, tension, stolen glances, and denial. Now, after finally tearing down every wall between you, you were somehow expected to walk into Jeong & Partners and act normal. Which was proving significantly harder than either of you anticipated. Especially because Yunho was terrible at it.
“You are wearing the same suit.”
Yunho looked over from the driver’s seat. “So?” He hadn’t even gone home last night. After he had finally pulled himself out of you, you took another shower, that lead to you dropping to your knees and finally getting him in your mouth. Had an amused and smug little told you so looks thrown at you from Wooyoung. Slept together which lead you to find out that Yunho liked being the little spoon which was beyond hilarious with his size. Then he gave you no argument in letting him drive you both to work in his ridiculously expensive Mercedes.
You stared at him. “People will know.” Not that you really cared. “And?” And apparently Yunho didn’t either. You looked at him as pulled into the law firm parking garage and when he looked back at you after parking, you both burst out laughing.
Five minutes later, the elevator doors opened onto the twentieth floor and immediately, something felt off. Not wrong. Just… observant. Associates looked up from their desks. Assistants paused mid conversation. Even the receptionist seemed suspiciously interested in her computer screen. Nobody knew anything. But somehow everybody knew something.
You stepped out first with Yunho a few feet behind you. Both of you trying very hard to appear casual. Which probably would’ve worked if Yunho didn’t keep looking at you every thirty seconds as you headed toward your office. And you almost made it. But then Yunho’s eyes narrowed. Because across the floor, Danny appeared. Coffee in hand. Making a direct path toward you just like every morning. Only this morning was different. Because this morning, Yunho’s patience had completely disappeared.
Danny slowed as Yunho walked straight past him. Past several confused associates. Past two paralegals who immediately stopped pretending to work. Then he reached you and you barely had time to speak before his hand wrapped around your wrist. “What are you doing?”
“One second.”
“Yunho.”
He ignored you completely as he turned you toward him and kissed you. Right there in the middle of the litigation department. The entire floor collectively forgot how to breathe and when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours, a grin tugging at his mouth. Possessive and completely unrepentant. And entirely too pleased with himself.
“Mine,” he murmured softly and your face immediately flushed. “Yunho….”
“Just reminding you.” Then his eyes shifted past you. Right towards the frozen associate still holding two coffees. Yunho smiled bright and friendly. And definitely cocky. “Morning, Danny.”
Danny looked like someone had personally unplugged his soul. And without another word, Yunho straightened his jacket and continued walking toward his office as if he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the middle of the firm. The silence lasted approximately three seconds. Then chaos erupted. Across the floor, associates started whispering. Phones appeared. Someone actually dropped a stack of files.
And from behind the glass walls of the managing offices, Mr. Jeong looked up from a contract. Watched his son disappear into his office. Watched you standing there frozen. Watched Danny questioning every life decision he’d ever made. Then the older man leaned back in his chair and shook his head, muttering to himself.
ಠ_ಠwarning/content: RATED X. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. blasphemy and sacrilege like a mfer; seriously you do not want to read this if you believe in and want to go to heaven, pastor!yunho x fem reader, plot twist, the devil is real so so is god maybe ?, witch hunting, violence against reader, more specific warnings on each chapter
Soundtrack by @jailn and @last-words-ofashootingstar
♡masterlist + navigation ♡
Teaser #1; Of Spirit Most Weak And Troubled
Teaser #2; Of Comfort Most Disturbing
Teaser #3; Concerning The Nature of Lust
Teaser #4; Wherein My Faith Doth Greatly Falter
Teaser #5; Concerning One Whom I Ought Not Hold Dear
Teaser #6; Of the Sound Which Came From Beyond the Trees.
The Lord Knoweth My Name; Being an Account of Certain Disturbances Which Befell Our Household.
Under An Angry Heaven; Wherein I Fear I Have Been Forsaken.
Love, Most Sinful; Concerning the Cruelty of Earthly Affections.
A Trial Of Faith; Of My Great Unworthiness Before God, Concerning the State of My Soul and the Want of Assurance Thereof.
Tried By Fire; Wherein Is Recorded a Most Miserable Evening.
The Devil Knoweth My Name; Wherein Satan Doth Make Assault Upon My Soul.
leave a comment here to be added to the story taglist !
Summary: You take a temporary position working as the assistant of the company ceo who is cold and brutal. Over time, his demeanor begins to eat at you and you push back, something he isn’t used to. How will he react and how will he choose to put you in your place?
Unsure if this will be 1-2 more parts or a longer fic at this time.
Content Warning: 18+. NSFW. eventual smut. Cursing. Angst. Tension. Yoongi is cold af in this. Namjoon is bestie.
———————————————————-
“You can’t be serious. There has to be somebody else who can do it.” You groaned to your department supervisor who, thankfully, was one of your close friends.
“There probably is but the CEO has asked for somebody in this department specifically to temporarily fill the position so.. it has to be you.” Namjoon explained to you with heavy desperation in his voice.
“Joon, it literally doesn’t have to be me! You could ask-“
“Half of the people in this department would forget their fucking heads at home if they weren’t attached to their body. Some of them I’m pretty sure don’t even have anything going on inside of those heads..” he muttered the last bit, trailing off and shaking his head. “I can’t send some idiot to be an assistant to the CEO. It would ruin me. Shit, I could lose my job. It has to be you.”
“No pressure or anything.” Your voice was full of sarcasm. “Is there a pay raise with this or something?”
“A considerable one.” Namjoon smiled, raising his eyebrows energetically to coax you in more.
“An assistant making more than somebody in fucking accounting? Why?” You asked, making the smile on his face falter. He didn’t answer and the silence made you anxious. “Namjoon..”
“He’s just.. not a people person. And asks a lot of the person who works for him.” He finally answers, clearing his throat nervously. “So the company has to compensate.”
“The company?” You raised your brow. “He is the company.”
“I mean the company lawyers.” He bit his cheek, gnawing at the skin. His probably confidential confession made you laugh but there was no humor behind your outburst, just pure shock.
“Yeah, you’re fucking insane.” You shook your head and started to turn away from him. “Get somebody else to send to work for that piece of shit. I’m perfectly fine earning my respectable paycheck.”
Namjoon grabbed you by the arm and held you in place, making you turn you face him. His face was twisted up into one of pure panic and despair. He was normally calm and collected, always professional. Only allowing himself to be personal around you due to how long you have worked alongside him. Yet, this was the first time you have ever seen him like this.
“Please.” He begged you again. Serious as he ever could be. “I promise I will never ask anything of you ever again. I just really need you to do this. Please.”
“Fuck.” You sighed heavily, his expression almost breaking your heart. “Okay. How much is the damn pay increase?”
——————————
The following morning you stumbled into the elevator and pulled down your pencil skirt before pressing the button for the top floor where CEO Min Yoongi’s office was located. You had gotten a slight rundown from Joon of what was going to be expected of you daily from him after accepting the position: coffee runs, phone calls, managing appointments and meetings, organizing files and spreadsheets, picking up lunch and whatever else his majesty requested of you. It didn’t seem like anything too out of the ordinary of what you expended or what you could handle so the nerves haven’t set in yet. The only thing that had set in was the annoyance of your new dress code: professional workwear only but, no pants. Only skirts. And you must wear heels. No flats or loafers like you normally opted for. So, here you were in your one of two pencil skirts and matching jackets, a skirt of which was possibly a bit too short on you, and your black too-high heels you wore once to a friends wedding you don’t even speak to anymore. You mentally made a note to go shopping after your first check hit as your feet started to throb before you even stepped out of your apartment this morning.
The elevator ‘dinged’ and you got out, meeting eyes with Namjoon who was dressed in a suit jacket for once and wearing his eyeglasses. You raised an eyebrow at him and smirked which he noticed instantly, rolling his eyes.
“I don’t want to hear it.” He mumbled.
“I don’t care, you’re going to hear it. You trying to look smart for the CEO?” You snickered, raising your brows at him teasingly.
“I am smart. This is just the dress code on this floor.”
“Which is fucking stupid by the way.” You muttered. “How is it only this floor has this dress code? How many people even work up here?”
“A few.” He shrugged. “But, this is just how he likes things. Clean. Professional. Polished.”
“You seem to know him well.”
“I don’t.” He shook his head. “I just know what he expects of his employees. Especially the ones who work directly under him.”
“Yet you’re the one introducing me to him?”
“Well, you’re my employee and the last assistant isn’t here to do it so-“
“And why aren’t they?” You asked him.
“It ended.. dramatically. I signed an NDA.” He told you wile avoiding your eye contact, but he could still feel your eyes burning holes into him.
“I swear to god Joon-“
“It’s time. He’s expecting us.” He said suddenly, leading you down a long hall that led to a small waiting area with a single door, a little desk next to it, and a sofa on the opposite wall. “This is going to be your desk by the way.”
“Cozy.” You mutter. You suddenly felt the nerves you didn’t have before. Namjoon cleared his throat and straightened his posture, seemingly feeling the same nerves. Then reached out and lightly knocked on the door, a warning of entry, before opening it and stepping in while you followed him cautiously behind.
The office was deceptively giant behind the small entrance. The wall to the right was lined with bookcases filled with documents and hardbacks, most likely in alphabetical order. A leather couch with decorative throw pillows set in front of the books, the leather was black and pillows just the same. The opposite wall had a large abstract painting hung on it with a large built in cabinet underneath, a record player with tons of records in the shelving below, and a crystal glass of whisky set next to the player. The walls were dark and so was the carpet. The whole room a bit overly sleek and modern. Clean. And right in the middle sat an overly giant desk that was only decorated with a few documents, a lamp, and a single laptop that a man with dark black hair was typing away on while paying no mind to the company in his presence.
Min Yoongi. You had never seen him in person, only photos. His skin was like silk and contrasted with the dark of his now long hair, styled differently from the last photos you had seen. He wore glasses that sat at this bridge of his nose, the reflection of an email in the lenses that he was furiously composing. He wore a black suit, overly formal, almost as if he was ready to go to a black-tie event than a 9-5 job or, whatever hours he worked.
And he had still not looked up at either you or Namjoon once.
“Mr Min.” Namjoon greeted him softly. He waited for the CEO patiently but, the attention was never given. The fingers of the man never stopping. Finally, after a few minutes of awkward silence, the big boss finally graced both of you with a single raise of his eyebrow and one glance your way.
“Yes?” His voice was flat. Uninterested. You felt a shockwave of uneasiness hit you instantly.
“This is y/n. She’s going to be your new assistant until you permanently fill the position.” Namjoon introduced you, making Mr. Min’s eyes shift you to. You saw him take in your appearance, his eyes looking you up and down from top to bottom, as if to size you up. You suddenly felt self conscious but aware you had to speak.
“Hello, sir.” Your voice was almost unrecognizable. Too scripted. “I look forward to working with you.”
“For me.” He corrected you, biting his cheek between his teeth and his eyes settled on your too-short skirt. You felt a rush of heat to your face from the instant embarrassment.
“Apologies for the poor word choice.” You attempted a smooth recovery. “I look forward to working for you, sir.”
The CEO exhaled as if he was irritated, then sat upright in his chair, hands folded on the desk. It was the first time he looked directly at both of you and it made you want to run for the hills. His presence was far more intimidating than you had anticipated and he had only said all of 3 words. Then again, maybe that was the problem. He wasn’t saying anything.
“I’ll uh, leave you guys to it. Let me know if I can be of any assistance with the transition of her position, Mr. Min.” Namjoon said, taking Yoongi’s new found attention as a sign to leave for some reason. You side-eyed him in panic, silently begging him to stay but was unsuccessful. The boss nodded once and dismissed him and you couldn’t do anything but stand there and mentally scream as Namjoon slipped out the door, leaving you in the room alone with the devil himself.
He sat there staring at you, waiting. His face blank and unreadable. It was the first time you really got to look at it too. His jaw was angular but his nose was soft and almost tiny, his apples of his cheeks round. His eyes were intense and eyebrows neatly tamed. Sharp. His lips were pouted and full. And, to your surprise, he had two piercings on each ear that gave him an edge. He was sexy and you couldn’t help but ogle at him for a moment.
“Iced Americano. Two a day, sometimes three. One at 7:30am and one at 3pm.” He said, breaking you from your delirious daze.
“Pardon?”
“My coffee order?” He raised his eyebrow, huffing out a single laugh. “Please tell me you’re competent enough to order a coffee.”
You felt venom spread through your veins and you had to bite your tongue from wanting to say exactly what you wanted to, keeping Namjoon in the back of your mind. It was not only your job at risk here if your mouth got the better of you. It was also his at stake so, you held back, forcing a smile.
“Of course.” Your voice was sickly sweet. Very obviously artificial while you quickly came up with an on-the-fly but valid explanation. “I was just a bit confused sir as my scheduled day doesn’t start until 9am.”
“My day starts at 7:30 which means I expect my coffee to be here too so that’s not my problem. That’s yours to figure out.” His voice was unwavering and uncompromising. “I don’t eat lunch unless it’s in a meeting with investors. If I have one scheduled, I only eat steak medium rare. No sides. You’ll have to order what the others want, possibly multiple places, and pick it up and get it here on time. All of it must still be hot. Not reheated.”
You nodded and listened as he continued.
“Your office is outside the door and you have your own phone and computer. Take it home nightly. I expect you to be available if I need to reach you at any time. You’ll be paid for the time, of course.” He rolled his eyes, probably due to the fact he must legally be obligated to disclose that, before continuing. “I need you to keep a detailed schedule of all my meetings and a log of all my contacts and if they need to be updated. Also keep track of their personal information like their spouses and children so I don’t forget if I see them. Know who I actually want to talk to and who I don’t want to talk to so my time isn’t wasted.”
“How do I know who you like-“
“You’ll know.” He cut you off, his voice flat and had a bit of irritation behind the tone. “And if you need to take a sick day, I expect you to work from home. If you’re too sick to work from home, then I need a document from the doctor excusing you from work.”
Your composed face slipped a bit, your eyebrow raising at his last ridiculous statement before you could control yourself. He caught your expression immediately and he smirked, showing an emotion other than stone cold for the first time.
“Do you have an issue with that?”
“No sir, not at all.” You told him, no smile on your face this time or fake pleasant voice. “Is there anything else I need to know about this position?”
“Yes.” He said, pulling his computer back in front of him and returning his attention to his screen. “You’ll be in and out of this office a lot. Knock before entering and do not bother me with conversation that are not productive or relevant.” He told you, typing away again at another email. “I’m too busy for nonsense.”
“No worries there sir. I don’t see us having much to talk about beyond the necessary.” You slip, your venom tongue betraying you slightly due to the overwhelming irritation you felt from his audacity. The sound of the typing stopped and his hands froze, his eyes lifting from the screen and landing on you. Both of you staring each other down for a few moments until the tension was thick enough where even the otherwise invincible CEO seemed to have had enough.
“Good.” He said simply, finally looking back down at his work. “I need another coffee. I didn’t see you write anything I told you down so I hope you remembered all of it along with my order. Can you manage?”
“Yes, sir.” You said through gritted teeth, spinning around on your toes in your high heels before starting to walk away. Your hands balls in fists next to you as you mentally cussed him, throwing every curse word you knew at him.
“Oh, and y/n?” He called you and you reluctantly stopped and turned back to him. To your surprise, he was looking at you again.
“Yes, Mr. Min?”
“That skirt..” he started to say, his eyes scanning you up and down. “..is too short.”
“Oh.” You muttered, unable to argue with him. “I uh, I will get some new clothes with my next check sir. I have one more I can wear until then.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t wear it.” He told you. “I’m just telling you it’s too short.”
The tension in the room changed from one type to another in an instant, his eyes still on you but taking moments to trail down your legs once more. You felt hot all over and suddenly like the legs he was staring at weren’t going to be able to keep you upright for much longer. Everything was still. Frozen. And then.. it wasn’t.
“Coffee.” He told you again, shifting back in his seat and focusing again on his computer as if nothing had happened. You shook your head, dazed, and tried to refocus.
“Uh, yes.” You nodded, tearing your eyes from him. “Iced americano. I’ll be back with it soon.”
“Sooner if we stopped speaking about it.”
And just like that, the heat of the moment faded and the irritation returned. You turned and walked out of the room, eyes rolling so hard you swear they were going to leave your head as you made your way down to the company cafe, mentally praying that you would survive this temporarily job. Praying you would survive Min Yoongi.
————————- end of intro ———————-
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this intro and look forward to the rest! I’m not sure if I’m going to be doing a short 1-2 more parts or if this is going to be a longer series. I’ll know as I go. But I just knew I wouldn’t be able to do what I wanted w this in one part so I hope you come back and read the rest 🤍
Morning came softly in the palace. No rattling pipes. No neighbors screaming through paper thin walls. No market vendors shouting beneath underground tunnel lights before sunrise. Just quiet. Warm sunlight drifted slowly through the massive windows of Y/N’s room, pale gold stretching across polished floors and tangled blankets while the distant hum of Solaria Prime moved far below the imperial tower.
For a few blissfully disoriented seconds after waking up… Y/N forgot where she was. She blinked sleepily into unfamiliar sunlight spilling across the bed, still halfway trapped in dreams and exhaustion. The blankets beneath her were too soft. The mattress too comfortable. Warm air drifted through the room carrying the faint scent of flowers and clean water instead of metal and dust. Her brain tried placing it. Not her apartment. Too quiet. Not the Choi repair shop couch either. Then her eyes landed on the towering glass windows overlooking the city and reality slammed back into place hard enough to make her groan aloud.
“God.” The palace. Mingi. The dinner. The rooftop. The impossible revelation about human cities beyond imperial control. Y/N dragged both hands down her face before flopping backward against the pillows dramatically. This was a nightmare. A very expensive nightmare with incredible water pressure. Sunlight warmed her bare shoulders while she stared up at the ceiling trying to collect herself again. And somewhere beneath the exhaustion and panic…. a strange lingering feeling from last night remained stubbornly alive in her chest. The way Mingi looked stepping in front of her at the dinner. The shift in his voice when he threatened Erevan. The softness afterward on the rooftop. Dangerous thoughts.
Y/N rolled onto her side aggressively like physically moving might knock them loose. The unfamiliar room looked even larger in daylight. The wardrobe remained partially open revealing rows of expensive clothing Mingi bought her for reasons she still didn’t fully understand. Soft ambient lights glowed faintly along the walls while the city stretched endlessly beyond the windows beneath bright blue sky. No underground in sight. No sign humans even existed beneath Solaria Prime at all making homesickness hit suddenly and sharp enough to steal her breath for a second. San was probably already awake helping open the repair shop. Allara was definitely gossiping to everyone in District 5C. Life underground continued while Y/N slept in a bed bigger than her entire old apartment.
The guilt returned immediately after that thought as she sat up slowly with a sigh, sunlight catching the emerald green polish still painted across her nails. Alien nails. Alien clothes. Alien palace. She looked down at herself quietly. “San’s gonna kill me.” A soft chime interrupted her spiraling before she could continue. The room doors slid open smoothly and one of the human attendants stepped inside carrying a silver tray with breakfast. Y/N blinked at her as the attendant blinked back nervously. “Would you like caf?” Breakfast somehow made everything feel even stranger. The human attendant had left quickly after setting the tray down, still visibly nervous around Y/N despite being human herself. Which honestly made Y/N feel worse somehow. Because she understood it immediately. The attendants here survived by being quiet. Careful and invisible.
Meanwhile Y/N had threatened nobles within her first twelve hours inside the palace. She got up and sat cross legged near the windows while sunlight flooded the room and tried not to think too hard about how quickly she was adapting to luxury. After breakfast came another shower that felt unfairly good, followed by twenty solid minutes of standing in front of the wardrobe like it personally offended her. Because what exactly was she supposed to do with all this? Underground life trained people to own only what they needed. Clothes got worn until stitching failed completely. Jackets passed through generations. Shoes mattered more than fashion. Now she apparently had enough outfits for an upper sector socialite.
Y/N stared at the wardrobe with her towel wrapped tightly around herself and sighed dramatically. “This is insane.” The clothes stared back silently and unfortunately… some of them were really cute. Which made this harder. Her fingers brushed slowly through hanging fabrics and layered pieces while sunlight caught metallic stitching and soft dark colors woven through the wardrobe. Mingi had clearly picked most of it intentionally too. That annoyed her most. Because somehow the arrogant alien prince had figured out her taste terrifyingly fast. Nothing looked overly polished or painfully royal. Most pieces felt sleek. Bold. Fitted. Rich darker colors mixed with greens and silver accents that reminded her strangely of underground neon signs reflected in rainwater.
Then she spotted the dress. Short. Dark green and black swirling patterns twisting through the fabric almost hypnotically. Cutouts at the waist. Tight enough to make her nervous immediately. Y/N stared at it. Then around the empty room. Then back at the dress again. “Absolutely not.” Five minutes later she was pulling it on anyway. The fabric hugged her body perfectly, soft and stretchy enough to move with her while the dark swirling green pattern shifted almost liquid like beneath the sunlight. The side cutouts left cool air against her skin while the hem sat dangerously higher on her thighs than anything she’d ever worn underground.
Y/N stood frozen in front of the mirror afterward. Because honestly? Oh no. She looked good. Really good. Which was deeply unfortunate. She turned slightly side to side studying herself with visible suspicion. Underground Y/N would’ve assumed someone wearing this worked in upper sector clubs or was rich enough to never touch manual labor in their life. Now she stood inside an imperial palace wearing it before noon. The culture shock alone might kill her. She tugged awkwardly at the hem again immediately. “How do people sit in this without dying?” Still…. a small reluctant smile almost appeared before she caught herself. Because for the first time in her life, she had choices. Not survival choices. Not ration choices. Style. Identity. What version of herself she wanted the world to see. The realization settled strangely in her chest. Then another realization hit immediately afterward…. Mingi was absolutely going to see her in this.
Y/N groaned aloud and covered her face with both hands. “This man is ruining my life.”
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The palace looked entirely different during the day. Less magical and more alive. Y/N slipped quietly from her room after another ten minutes of debating whether the dress was too much before finally deciding she no longer cared. If the empire wanted to drag her into luxury against her will, then fine. She’d at least be comfortable while having an existential crisis about it. Thankfully, buried near the bottom of the wardrobe, she’d found simple white shoes instead of the torture devices upper sector women apparently called fashion. Small victories.
The hallway outside her room stretched bright and warm beneath sunlight pouring through towering windows while palace staff moved steadily through the corridors carrying datapads, trays, folded fabrics, and stacks of documents. Morning routines. Orderly. Efficient. Controlled. Y/N wandered slowly through the upper levels trying not to look obviously lost while secretly being extremely obviously lost as the dress clung softly against her body as she walked, dark green patterns catching the light every time she passed another window and she kept tugging at the hem instinctively despite there being no actual reason to.
Several attendants glanced toward her curiously while passing by. Humans. Lower class aliens. Workers. The divide between upper and lower sectors revealed itself everywhere once she started paying attention. Alien nobles moved slowly through the palace because they had nowhere urgent to be. Workers moved quickly because standing still too long looked dangerous. Y/N noticed immediately as a group of human attendants bowed their heads automatically when a noble woman crossed the corridor nearby draped in silver fabric and glowing jewelry. The noble barely acknowledged them making Y/N’s jaw tighten faintly.
One lower class alien male hurried past carrying stacked crystal trays nearly taller than he was, pale blue markings glowing faintly beneath his collar while exhaustion sat heavily beneath his eyes. Even aliens had layers inside the empire. That part surprised her less now. The palace itself felt like a machine built from hierarchy. Everyone knew exactly where they belonged. Except apparently her. Y/N turned another corner confidently before immediately realizing she had absolutely no idea where she was anymore. “Fantastic.” The corridor ahead opened into one of the larger central garden sectors inside the palace where water streamed through curved glass fountains surrounded by pale flowering trees beneath an artificial open ceiling. Beautiful. And completely unfamiliar.
Y/N stopped near one of the fountains trying to look like she intentionally wandered here while secretly reconsidering every life choice she’d made recently.
“You look like you’re trying to escape.”
Y/N jumped startled, turning around. Garus stood several feet away near the garden entrance dressed far less formally than the night before, though authority still clung naturally to him regardless. Dark robes draped loosely around him while palace guards lingered farther back respectfully out of earshot and for one horrifying second Y/N wondered if she’d accidentally wandered into somewhere forbidden. Then she noticed it. The slight twitch at the corner of the emperor’s mouth. Amusement. He was trying very hard not to look amused. Because standing in the middle of the imperial palace was a human girl in a dangerously short green dress clearly pretending she knew where she was going while actually looking catastrophically lost.
Y/N crossed her arms immediately. “I’m exploring.” Garus glanced briefly down the hallway she came from. “You passed your corridor twice.”
“You noticed that.”
“It was difficult not to.”
Y/N groaned softly and covered her face for a second. The emperor actually looked younger suddenly trying not to laugh outright at her visible embarrassment. Resembling his son in that moment. Which honestly startled him a little too. Most interactions inside the palace revolved around politics, strategy, control. Y/N somehow made the imperial residence feel strangely normal for brief moments. A dangerous trait. Garus studied her quietly now. The dress. The way she carried herself despite clearly feeling out of place. And unfortunately…. he immediately understood why Mingi looked at her differently already. Because she didn’t move through the palace like someone trying to become part of it. She moved through it like someone refusing to be swallowed by it.
Garus watched her another moment beneath the filtered sunlight of the garden corridor. She stood there trying very hard to look guarded despite the fact she was visibly curious about everything around her when most humans entering the upper class either became submissive immediately or overwhelmingly desperate to belong there. Y/N seemed determined to do neither. “I was about to go to the gardens,” Garus said calmly after a moment. “Join me.” Y/N blinked once in confusion. The emperor of Earth had just casually invited her on a walk through the palace gardens. What even was her life anymore? Her first instinct was suspicion. Second instinct? Mild panic. Because unlike Mingi, Garus felt harder to read completely. Mingi wore emotions openly even when trying not to. Garus kept everything controlled beneath layers of imperial composure.
Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly. “Am I allowed to say no to royal invitations yet or is that unlocked later?” A quiet amused breath escaped him before he turned toward the open garden corridor. “You’re already speaking to me more honestly than most nobles do.” Not exactly an answer. Still Y/N followed anyway. The palace gardens stretched across several open air levels hidden deep within the imperial residence, and the second they stepped fully inside, she forgot how to breathe for a second.
Sunlight spilled through enormous glass ceilings high overhead while waterfalls cascaded between white stone pathways wrapped in flowering vines glowing faintly blue and violet beneath the daylight. Massive alien trees twisted upward with silver bark and translucent leaves that shimmered whenever the breeze moved through them. And everywhere…. creatures. Small glowing things drifted lazily through the air between flowers while tiny fox like animals with elongated ears darted through the lower gardens chasing one another beneath the plants. One creature perched near the edge of a fountain looked vaguely like a bird if birds were made from moonlight and had four eyes.
Y/N stared openly and Garus noticed as she tried hiding the awe almost as soon as it appeared, expression tightening back into practiced neutrality. His mouth twitched faintly in amusement. “You can admit something is beautiful without betraying humanity.” Y/N looked mildly offended he caught her reaction at all. “I wasn’t doing anything.”
“Mhm.” They walked slowly through the gardens together while water echoed softly around them and glowing creatures drifted lazily overhead. Y/N kept trying not to stare. And kept failing spectacularly. One of the tiny fox like animals suddenly bounded directly across the pathway in front of her before stopping near her shoes and Y/N froze immediately as the creature blinked up at her with huge reflective eyes before chirping softly. “What the hell is that.”
“A sylin.”
“It looks illegal.”
Garus actually laughed quietly at that. Not loudly. Not fully. But enough that Y/N glanced toward him in surprise making him stare at her. “What?”
“You laugh.”
“I’m aware.”
“You seem like someone who forgot how.” That earned her a sharper look this time. Not angry. Just assessing and Y/N immediately realized she probably shouldn’t psychoanalyze the emperor of Earth casually. Too late now. Garus looked ahead toward the deeper gardens again as they continued walking. “You think very little before speaking.”
“Thinking first has rarely improved my situations.”
“That much is obvious.”
Y/N snorted softly under her breath before her attention drifted again toward another cluster of alien flowers blooming beside the path. The petals shifted colors every few seconds beneath the sunlight. Beautiful. Alive. And completely foreign. She hated how badly she wanted to touch everything. Garus watched her quietly while they walked. Analyzing. Because he needed to understand exactly what his son saw in her already. So far the answer appeared to be, beauty, honesty, stubbornness and a complete inability to hide genuine emotion. Dangerous combinations. Especially for Mingi.
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Mingi almost never woke up early voluntarily. Which was exactly why Seonghwa already knew something was wrong the second he stepped into the prince’s chambers and found him awake. Again. Sunlight spilled through the towering windows while music played softly somewhere in the background and half finished paint supplies still cluttered one side of the room from the night before. Mingi stood near the wardrobe fastening rings onto his fingers while deciding between jackets with the level of focus usually reserved for military strategy. Seonghwa stopped in the doorway. “I’m getting concerned now.”
Mingi looked over his shoulder lazily. “Good morning to you too.”
“You were awake yesterday morning. You are awake again today. At this point I may need palace medical staff involved.”
Mingi snorted softly before finally pulling on a dark charcoal silk shirt left mostly unbuttoned at the chest paired with loose black pants detailed with silver zippers running down the legs. Rings flashed against long fingers while layered chains rested against his chest and his hair fell messily across his forehead beneath the morning light. He looked unfairly good for someone clearly running on almost no sleep. Unfortunately for Seonghwa, this was normal. The lower class alien crossed his arms. “You’re dressing like you’re about to commit a crime.”
Mingi grinned immediately. “Maybe I am.”
“That is not comforting.”
Mingi ignored him entirely, adjusting one of the rings before grabbing a pair of dark shoes from beside the bed. “I’m gonna go wake up Y/N.” The words came casually. Too casually and Seonghwa immediately regretted existing. “You cannot say things like that while looking like…” He gestured vaguely toward Mingi’s entire appearance. “this.”
“What? Handsome?”
“Like a scandal waiting to happen.”
Mingi looked delighted by that description actually. Then Seonghwa casually delivered the worst possible information. “She’s already awake.” Mingi paused mid step. “What?” Seonghwa leaned against the doorway now, visibly entertained by the immediate attention shift. “She’s in the gardens.” Mingi’s brows lifted slightly. “By herself?”
“With your father.”
Silence. Complete silence. Absolute silence. Then Mingi frowned. “With my father?” Seonghwa nodded once slowly as Mingi stared at him. Because somehow that sounded more dangerous than Y/N escaping the palace entirely. “What are they doing?”
“Walking.”
“That’s suspicious.”
Seonghwa actually laughed quietly at that. “I think your father’s trying to understand why exactly you dragged a human girl into the imperial residence and immediately started acting insane.” Mingi shoved his rings fully onto his fingers now before grabbing a lightweight dark jacket from the bed. “I’m not acting insane.”
“You painted her I see.”
Mingi froze and Seonghwa’s grin widened slowly. “You left the canvas out.” Mingi pointed at him. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“I live here.”
“That feels invasive.”
Seonghwa looked deeply unimpressed as Mingi’s thoughts had already moved elsewhere entirely. Y/N awake early. Wandering the palace. Now in the gardens with Garus. He immediately pictured her standing among alien plants looking overwhelmed and defensive at the same time. And before he could stop himself he smiled and Seonghwa shook his head. “Oh, you’re doomed.” Mingi rolled his eyes dramatically while moving toward the door. “Relax.”
“You’re smiling at nothing.”
“I smile all the time.”
“Not like that.” That finally wiped some amusement from Mingi’s expression. Because unfortunately… Seonghwa was right. The smile faded slightly as realization settled heavier in his chest again. This was becoming dangerous far faster than he intended. Which naturally meant he still headed straight toward the gardens anyway.
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The deeper into the gardens they walked, the less tense the atmosphere became. Not comfortable exactly. But easier. Garus no longer carried the same cold imperial sharpness from the reception hall last night, and Y/N slowly stopped expecting every sentence from him to become some hidden political test. Mostly. The small fox like creature certainly helped. At some point during their walk, one of the little animals had wandered directly into Y/N’s path again before shamelessly demanding attention by pressing against her leg until she crouched down automatically. Now it sat comfortably in her arms like it had decided she belonged to it. She stared down at the creature curled against her chest while its oversized ears twitched lazily beneath her fingers. “It literally followed me.”
“They tend to do that with people they like.”
Y/N eyed the creature suspiciously. “It has poor judgment.” The tiny sylin chirped indignantly at that and Garus smiled faintly into his tea. They’d settled briefly near one of the upper garden terraces now where waterfalls poured softly between glowing plants and flowering vines curled around pale stone seating beneath the open glass ceiling. Sunlight warmed the entire garden beautifully and for the first time since arriving at the palace Y/N almost relaxed as Garus watched her absentmindedly scratching beneath the sylin’s chin before speaking again. “Mingi used to hide in these gardens constantly when he was younger.”
Y/N glanced up. “Seriously?”
“He hated his lessons.”
“That sounds exactly right.”
A quiet amused sound escaped the emperor. “He’s always been rebellious.” Garus leaned back slightly against the stone bench, gaze drifting toward the city skyline beyond the gardens. “Even as a child.” Y/N listened quietly now. Because strangely… hearing about Mingi before the palace prince version interested her more than it should. “He never wanted the throne,” Garus continued. “Never cared for politics. Or court traditions.” Another small smile touched his mouth briefly. “He wanted ships.” Y/N furrowed her brows. “Ships?”
“He wanted to travel.” Garus shook his head softly like the memory exhausted him affectionately. “Explore colonies. Wander the galaxy.” The word settled oddly in Y/N’s chest. Galaxy. Such a huge concept compared to underground life. Garus exhaled quietly through his nose. “Considering he was born on Earth, he resents the fact he’s never actually been allowed beyond it.” That shocked her. “He’s never left?”
“No.”
“But he’s the prince.”
“Exactly.” The answer made terrible sense somehow. The future emperor didn’t belong to himself. Y/N looked down at the sylin curled comfortably against her again before asking quietly, “What’s it like?” Garus glanced toward her. “The galaxy.” Silence settled softly around them while distant waterfalls echoed through the gardens. Then unexpectedly, the emperor chuckled. Not mockingly but thoughtfully. “I often forget,” he admitted, “that only a handful of humans have ever even been up there.” Y/N frowned slightly. “Some humans have?”
“A few.” His gaze drifted upward toward the open sky visible through the glass ceiling. “Mostly workers. Scientists. Diplomats. Before we got her. They didn’t very far though.” The sunlight caught faint silver in his eyes as he continued quietly, “The galaxy is much bigger than humans know.” Y/N listened carefully. Because suddenly the underground felt smaller than ever. “There are planets where the oceans glow at night. Cities built inside moons. Forests taller than mountains. Entire systems where sunlight looks violet instead of gold.” The images painted themselves vividly in her mind despite herself as Garus looked toward the sky again almost distantly now. “You could spend several lifetimes traveling and still never see all of it.”
Y/N swallowed quietly. Her entire life until yesterday had existed underground beneath what was once Nevada. And now an emperor casually spoke about galaxies like neighboring countries. The scale of it made her dizzy as the sylin shifted in her arms again and Y/N absently stroked its soft fur while trying to process the fact the universe was apparently far larger than humanity had ever been allowed to believe. Garus noticed the expression on her face. That quiet ache curiosity creates. The same look Mingi used to wear as a child staring at ships leaving Earth’s atmosphere just as his son found them.
Mingi expected tension when he reached the gardens. Maybe awkward silence. Maybe Y/N verbally threatening his father. Possibly both. What he did not expect was laughter. He slowed immediately near the upper garden entrance, stopping partially behind one of the towering silver barked trees when the sound reached him again. Garus was laughing. Actually laughing. Not polite amusement. Not court performance smiling. Real laughter that mad Mingi stare in genuine disbelief toward the terrace below where his father sat across from Y/N beside one of the garden fountains. “What the hell….”
Sunlight spilled warmly across the garden while waterfalls echoed softly around them and glowing creatures drifted lazily through the air between flowering vines. Y/N sat curled slightly sideways on the stone bench with one of the sylins sprawled stubbornly across her lap while Garus leaned back across from her looking more relaxed than Mingi had seen him in years. The sight alone felt surreal. Mingi stayed hidden instinctively for another second longer, watching quietly.
Y/N was in the middle of speaking animatedly about something while the sylin kept pawing at the cutout side of her dress trying to climb further into her lap. “…. and then the entire caf machine exploded,” she finished dramatically. “Which, by the way, absolutely proved I was correct about it being haunted.” Garus rubbed a hand across his mouth trying and failing to suppress another laugh. “Mingi once dismantled an entire palace navigation system because he thought it was looking at him wrong.” Y/N whipped her head at him. “See? That’s exactly the kind of behavior I expected from him.”
Mingi looked offended despite nobody knowing he was there. “That happened one time.” He leaned lightly against the tree watching quietly for another second longer than necessary. Y/N looked beautiful in daylight. That thought hit immediately and annoyingly hard. The dark green dress hugged her perfectly while sunlight warmed against bare skin and dark swirling patterns moved almost liquid like whenever she shifted. Her white shoes made the entire outfit look less polished somehow. More her. The sylin chirped suddenly and climbed higher into her lap while Y/N tried unsuccessfully to reposition it. “It’s heavy,” she complained.
Garus looked entirely unbothered. “That means it likes you.”
“That thing met me twenty minutes ago.”
“They choose quickly.”
Mingi’s mouth twitched faintly before a loud voice echoed through the gardens before he could step forward. “Mingi! Where are you? If you disappear before greeting me I’m telling your father you’re avoiding family obligations!” Garus closed his eyes briefly. “There,” he sighed deeply. “And that would be my nephew.” Y/N startled slightly at the sudden shouting while immediately trying to lower the sylin from her lap onto the ground but the creature refused. Tiny paws clung dramatically against the dress while it made an offended chirping sound and buried itself harder against her stomach. Y/N stared down at it in disbelief.
Garus snorted softly. “That one’s yours now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means it has decided.”
“That is not how ownership works.”
“In this case it is.”
Y/N looked deeply concerned by that information. Then footsteps echoed quickly through the garden corridor and another figure appeared around the flowering pathways. Wooyoung. Like Mingi, his hair gleamed pale beneath the sunlight, though styled messier and sharper somehow. Silver white markings curled visibly around both his arms disappearing beneath layered black sleeveless fabric while jewelry glittered against tan skin every time he moved. Where Mingi carried lazy elegance… Wooyoung carried chaos. His energy filled the gardens instantly. And then he stopped walking completely. Because there was a human woman sitting beside his Emperor uncle holding a sylin like she lived there.
Wooyoung blinked once. Then slowly looked toward his uncle. Then back at Y/N. Then at the sylin. “Why is there a human woman here?” Y/N immediately looked offended. “Wow. Hello to you too.” Wooyoung blinked back as Mingi finally stepped out from behind the trees unable to help the grin spreading across his face now. Wooyoung’s eyes snapped toward him instantly and immediately narrowed. “No.” Garus sighed heavily into his tea because unfortunately his nephew knew Mingi far too well already. Wooyoung pointed between them dramatically. “No no no no. Why does she look dressed by you?”
Y/N looked horrified. “He did not dress me?”
“Absolutely he did,” Wooyoung argued before Mingi could answer. “That man dresses women in his head like it’s a hobby.”
“Woo.”
“I’m right.” Unfortunately… he was.
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By later that afternoon, the palace somehow felt even stranger. Not because it was unfamiliar anymore but because it was starting to become familiar and that realization unsettled Y/N deeply as she moved through the upper corridors slower now, no longer completely lost as sunlight shifted gold across towering windows and polished floors beneath the drifting hum of Solaria Prime outside. And following directly behind her was the sylin. Her sylin now apparently. Which still sounded ridiculous in her head. The tiny creature bounded happily after her through the corridors, oversized ears twitching while soft chirping sounds echoed behind her every few seconds like it needed to constantly remind her of its existence.
At some point after the gardens, Seonghwa had appeared carrying a thin green ribbon like band woven from shimmering metallic fabric. Before Y/N could even ask questions, he’d gently fastened it around the sylin’s neck. “There,” he’d said calmly as Y/N blinked at him. “There what?”
“So palace staff know it belongs to you.”
“Excuse me?”
Apparently within the imperial palace, sylins occasionally attached themselves to people permanently. And once they did that was it. Congratulations on the alien fox cat-child now emotionally haunting your existence. The green band matched her nails which felt suspiciously intentional somehow. Now the creature trotted proudly behind her like it had just inherited property rights. Y/N glanced down at it while walking. “You realize I didn’t agree to this.” The sylin chirped happily. “Yeah well your communication skills are terrible.” Another chirp and honestly it was growing on her against her will.
Y/N turned another corner heading toward her room while palace workers moved around her in practiced routines and human attendants carried folded fabrics and trays between upper sectors while lower class alien staff worked quietly along the corridors adjusting lighting panels and transport systems. The palace never really stopped moving. And Y/N started wondering what exactly she was even supposed to be doing here. Because technically she was Mingi’s subordinate. Right? Except nobody had explained what that actually meant.
So far her responsibilities included, arguing with nobles, getting emotionally manipulated by luxury and accidentally acquiring alien wildlife. Not exactly structured employment. The sylin suddenly darted ahead sniffing curiously near her room doors while Y/N slowed to a stop outside them. “What do you even eat?” she asked it suspiciously but the creature only stared back blankly. “Great. Helpful.” The doors slid open automatically once she approached and the sylin immediately bounded inside like it owned the place. Y/N stepped into the room after it with a sigh before dropping onto the edge of the massive bed dramatically.
Silence settled around her softly. The room no longer felt entirely foreign either. That was the problem. The wardrobe sat partially open still filled with clothes Mingi bought her. Sunlight spilled warm across the floors. The city stretched endlessly outside the windows. And somewhere inside all this Y/N realized she still had no idea why Mingi wanted her here beyond simple fascination. The sylin hopped onto the bed beside her before circling twice and settling comfortably against her thigh and Y/N absentmindedly scratched behind its ears while staring toward the ceiling thoughtfully. “What exactly am I supposed to be doing as his subordinate?” The sylin chirped once before immediately falling asleep. “Useless.”
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
By the time Mingi escaped back to his chambers later that afternoon, he was already annoyed with his cousin staying at the palace. Unfortunately, nobody in the galaxy could stop Wooyoung once curiosity grabbed hold of him. Which meant Mingi had barely made it halfway through his doors before his cousin followed directly behind him still talking. “I’m serious,” Wooyoung said while wandering into the room like he paid taxes there. “What is happening?” Mingi tossed one of his jackets carelessly onto a nearby chair before heading toward the drinks table near the windows. “Nothing.”
Wooyoung barked out a laugh immediately. “Oh, so we’re lying now.” Mingi ignored him completely while pouring himself something amber colored into a crystal glass. Wooyoung, meanwhile, looked around the room before immediately spotting the unfinished painting still sitting near the windows. “No way.” Mingi froze mid sip as Wooyoung crossed the room instantly like a shark smelling blood.
“You painted her?” He spun around dramatically toward Mingi. “YOU PAINTED HER?”
“It’s unfinished.”
“That is not remotely the issue here.”
Mingi sighed heavily into his drink because Wooyoung in teasing mode was basically a biological weapon. The younger royal dropped dramatically onto the couch while staring at his cousin in complete disbelief. “There’s a human woman in the palace. You painted her. And uncle Garus apparently likes her enough not to exile her immediately.” Mingi took another slow drink instead of answering and Wooyoung pointed accusingly. “You’re falling for a human.”
“I met her like two days ago.”
“That is not a denial.”
Mingi looked toward him flatly. “You’re annoying.”
“And you’re emotionally compromised.”
“Dramatic.”
Wooyoung leaned back against the couch cushions grinning now. “So,” he continued casually, “where exactly did you get her?” Mingi nearly choked on his drink. “You cannot phrase things like that.”
“What? I’m curious.”
“She’s not a pet.”
“Relax,” Wooyoung waved lazily. “I didn’t say she was. So where’d you find her?”
“The underground.”
Wooyoung blinked once. “You went underground alone?”
“I do it all the time.”
“Yes and one day you’re gonna get stabbed.”
Mingi shrugged. “Probably.” Wooyoung stared at him another second before grinning slowly again. “And she insulted you, didn’t she?”
“She told me to stop staring at her ass.”
Wooyoung lost his mind instantly. Loud cackling laughter filled the room while Mingi looked deeply offended by the reaction. “Oh you’re done for.” Wooyoung wheezed dramatically. “Absolutely doomed.”
“I’m not doomed.” Mingi rolled his eyes and moved toward the windows overlooking Solaria Prime while Wooyoung continued grinning like he’d just uncovered the greatest scandal in imperial history while asking, “So could I get one?” Mingi turned slowly as Wooyoung shrugged innocently. “Preferably male.”
“Woo.”
“What? If we’re apparently collecting attractive humans now, I’d like options.”
“We are not collecting humans.”
Wooyoung pointed toward the unfinished painting. “Evidence suggests otherwise.” Mingi seriously considered throwing him off the palace tower. Unfortunately Wooyoung only grinned wider beneath the city lights glowing outside, remaining sprawled dramatically across Mingi’s couch long after the teasing should’ve ended, still staring at his cousin like he’d personally witnessed the collapse of the empire. Mingi ignored him while fastening the cuffs of his dark silk shirt, silver jewelry glinting beneath the room lighting every time he moved. The loose charcoal fabric hung open low against his chest while black pants draped perfectly over long legs, zippers catching faint light with each step.
He looked unfairly attractive for someone apparently about to emotionally implode over a human girl. “So.” Mingi glanced toward Wooyoung lazily. “So?”
“What are we doing today?”
“We?”
“Yes, we.” Wooyoung gestured dramatically toward himself. “I just arrived. I deserve entertainment.” Mingi grabbed a ring from the table beside the unfinished painting and slid it onto his finger absentmindedly. “We aren’t doing anything.” Wooyoung narrowed his eyes immediately. That tone meant absolutely something. Mingi looked toward him fully. “I’m taking Y/N to see the city.”
“You’re what?”
Mingi was already walking toward the door which made Wooyoung shoot upright from the couch so fast he nearly knocked over a decorative sculpture, following him toward the hallway completely scandalized now while Mingi looked entirely unbothered. “You hate taking people places.”
“I don’t hate it.”
“You once made Seonghwa cry during a museum tour.”
“That was an accident.”
“He asked where the bathroom was!”
Mingi stepped into the corridor with a grin finally breaking across his face again as Wooyoung gaped openly. “Oh my god,” he muttered dramatically. “He’s smiling. He’s genuinely smiling. We are all doomed.” Mingi ignored him entirely while heading toward Y/N’s room. The palace hummed softly around him beneath afternoon sunlight filtering through towering windows. Workers moved carefully through the upper levels while nobles drifted through private sectors discussing politics and trade beneath glittering glass ceilings but Mingi barely noticed any of it. Because all he could think about now was whether Y/N would say yes to leaving the palace with him.
And weirdly… he wanted her to. Not because he needed company. Not because he wanted to show off the city. He just wanted to see her reaction to Solaria Prime beyond palace walls. By the time he reached her room doors, Wooyoung had finally stopped following him somewhere halfway through the halls after loudly declaring he needed alcohol before continuing this conversation. Coward. Mingi didn’t bother knocking. Mostly because rules felt optional to him. The doors slid open automatically as he stepped inside and immediately his thoughts short circuited.
Y/N looked up from where she sat near the windows with the sylin curled beside her. The green dress still hugged her figure perfectly beneath the afternoon sunlight pouring through the room while dark swirling patterns shifted softly every time she moved. Bare legs crossed lazily, white shoes kicked carelessly onto the floor nearby. And somehow she looked even prettier now than she had earlier. The sylin chirped happily the second it spotted him making Y/N glance up. “You know,” she said flatly, “most people knock before entering rooms.”
Mingi leaned lightly against the doorway without shame. “You look good in that dress.” Y/N narrowed her eyes instantly. “You say that like you weren’t expecting me to.”
“Oh, I knew you would.” The honesty hit harder than flirting somehow. Mingi’s gaze lingered another second too long before he finally pushed away from the doorway fully and stepped into the room. “Get your shoes back on.” Y/N frowned. “Why?” Mingi grinned. “I’m taking you to see the city.”
Y/N finally followed him out into the corridor carefully after having to argue with the sylin to stay, trying not to focus on how massive the palace suddenly felt after spending most of the day wandering pieces of it alone. Sunlight poured gold through the towering glass walls while distant city noise drifted faintly upward from Solaria Prime far below. The empire glittered beautifully from up here. Too beautifully. As they walked, Mingi glanced toward her. “We’ve got a couple hours before sunset.” Y/N eyed him suspiciously. “Why does that sound dangerous?”
“Because I’m taking you somewhere first.”
“And then?”
A grin spread slowly across his face. “Then later,” he said casually, “I’m dragging you to the casino strip.” Y/N stopped walking outright. “Oh absolutely not.” Mingi laughed softly and turned toward her fully now, clearly entertained. “What?”
“I do not want more people staring at me like last night.” The memory hit immediately. Nobles whispering. Aliens openly watching her. That horrible moment when everyone in the room realized the prince was interested in a human girl. Mingi stepped closer then, expression shifting slightly softer beneath the sunlight pouring through the corridor windows. His voice dipped lower naturally when he answered, rich and smooth enough to make her stomach betray her immediately. “The only reason they’ll be staring at you,” he murmured, eyes dragging slowly over the green dress hugging her figure, lingering on her bare legs and thighs. “is because of how good you look in that dress.”
Y/N’s brain short circuited for a full second. Because unlike others… Mingi didn’t flirt like he was playing games. He said things directly. Confidently. Like he genuinely meant every word. Heat crawled instantly up her neck and she hated herself for it. “You really enjoy making me uncomfortable.”
“I enjoy making you blush.”
“I am not blushing.”
Mingi’s grin widened slowly. “Sure.” Y/N immediately started walking again just to escape the conversation while Mingi laughed quietly behind her before easily catching up with longer strides. The palace corridors slowly gave way to open transport sectors as they moved lower through the imperial levels, and the farther they descended, the more Solaria Prime revealed itself outside the towering glass walls. This time, unlike when she first arrived… Y/N paid attention. Really paid attention. The city stretched endlessly beneath the afternoon sky in layers of silver towers, glowing bridges, drifting transport lanes, and shimmering glass districts reflecting sunlight like oceans made from metal and gold. Giant holograms floated between buildings while sleek ships moved silently through the skyline overhead.
It was beautiful and devastating. Because now that the initial shock wore off, Y/N could actually see what the empire had done. Old Earth buried beneath alien perfection. Human architecture twisted together with galactic design until it barely resembled the world her grandfather used to describe anymore. Somewhere beneath all this luxury and impossible technology existed the bones of Nevada and California. Hidden beneath empire branding and gold towers. Mingi watched her quietly while they boarded one of the transport lifts leading toward the city levels below. “You’re thinking too loud,” he said softly.
Y/N looked out across Solaria Prime another moment before answering. “I think this city wants people to forget what came before it.” And for once… Mingi didn’t have a clever response ready.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
Mingi’s idea of somewhere first turned out to be dropping Y/N directly into the most expensive districts in Solaria Prime. The transport lift opened into a massive upper sector plaza lined with curved glass storefronts and glowing silver pathways weaving between fountains and suspended gardens. Everything looked polished to impossible perfection beneath the late afternoon sunlight while aliens dressed in luxury fabrics drifted through the district carrying glowing drinks and shopping bags that definitely cost more than Y/N’s entire apartment underground.
Y/N stepped out beside Mingi slowly, immediately aware of how differently people looked at him here. Not curiosity. Recognition. Respect. Fear. People moved aside instinctively when the prince walked past, conversations lowering subtly while upper sector nobles bowed their heads just enough to acknowledge him without appearing submissive. And through all of it Mingi looked completely unaffected. Like this world belonged to him so naturally he forgot other people found it intimidating.
Y/N shoved her hands into the sides of the green dress awkwardly while following him through the district. “This place smells expensive.” Mingi snorted softly beside her. “That’s because it is.” The first store they entered nearly gave her a nervous breakdown. Everything inside shimmered. Jewelry floated suspended inside glass displays while holographic fabrics shifted colors beneath soft lighting and attendants dressed in silver greeted Mingi instantly the second he walked through the doors. “Your Highness.” Mingi waved lazily toward them. “Relax.” Y/N absolutely did not relax. She followed him cautiously through the store trying not to touch anything because everything looked worth enough money to personally ruin her bloodline.
Meanwhile Mingi wandered casually picking things up with zero concern for price tags. Every time he selected something, attendants simply bowed politely and the items vanished onto transport trays headed elsewhere. Y/N finally frowned. “Where does all this go?” Mingi looked toward her like the answer was obvious. “The palace.”
“You don’t carry your bags?”
“No?”
Y/N stared at him in disbelief. “That is the most spoiled thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I literally live in the imperial palace.”
“That’s not helping your case.”
Mingi grinned. God he loved when she talked to him like this. They moved through several more stores afterward, and despite herself, Y/N slowly started enjoying parts of it. Not the luxury exactly but the experience. Upper sector districts buzzed with life in a way different from the underground. Street performers floated glowing ribbons through the air between crowds while music drifted from rooftop lounges and vendors sold brightly colored foods from hovering stalls. Everything felt too bright. Too alive.
At one point Y/N stopped in front of a massive window display featuring shoes and immediately groaned. Heels. Dozens of them. Tall impossible things designed by people who clearly hated comfort. Mingi glanced toward her reaction instantly. “You hate heels.” It wasn’t even phrased like a question. Y/N crossed her arms defensively. “Humans weren’t designed to walk on stilts.” Mingi laughed softly beneath his breath before abruptly changing direction and grabbing her wrist gently. “Come on.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes while letting him drag her inside anyway. The store looked significantly less terrifying than the others at least. Sleek walls lined with shoes in every style imaginable stretched through the open levels while soft music drifted overhead. Mingi walked directly toward one section without hesitation and Y/N followed behind him suspiciously. Then froze. Sneakers. Boots. Flats. Actual wearable shoes. Mingi casually picked up a pair of sleek white shoes before holding them toward her. “These?”
Y/N stared at him shocked. “You noticed?”
“You looked ready to declare war on those heels.” That unfortunately was true. Y/N looked down at the shoes another second before looking back toward him and suddenly something about this felt strangely intimate. Not the gifts but the noticing. Mingi paying attention to tiny things she didn’t realize mattered. She took the shoes slowly from his hands. “You know this whole rich prince thing would probably work better if you were meaner.” Mingi stepped slightly closer then, grin turning softer around the edges. “Good thing I want you to like me then.”
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
By the time the sun started lowering across Solaria Prime, Y/N had officially lost control of the day. That was the only explanation. Because somehow, somewhere between arguing with Mingi inside luxury stores and accidentally enjoying herself, she’d ended up with multiple pairs of shoes currently being delivered directly to her room in the imperial palace like she was some spoiled upper sector heiress. It felt deeply incorrect.
Y/N walked beside Mingi through the crowded evening streets still mentally processing it while the city shifted around them in waves of gold and neon beneath the approaching sunset. “How many pairs did you even convince me to buy?” she muttered. Mingi looked entirely unapologetic beside her. “Not enough.”
“That answer is ridiculous.”
“You needed options.”
“I needed one pair.”
“You got six.”
Y/N stared at him in disbelief. “Six?”
“You liked the green ones.”
“I liked them emotionally. That doesn’t mean I needed them physically.”
Mingi laughed softly under his breath while guiding her through one of the crowded entertainment districts now glowing brighter as evening settled fully over the city. The Crown Strip transformed completely at night. Towering holograms lit the streets in shifting colors while casino lights reflected off polished black pathways crowded with aliens, tourists, nobles, workers, performers, and humans moving through the district beneath music echoing from every direction. The city felt endless after dark. Alive in a way the underground never could be.
Y/N noticed security drones drifting silently overhead while groups of wealthy nobles disappeared into glowing casinos lined with human workers standing perfectly straight near the entrances. Even paradise here had sharp teeth. Mingi led her toward a smaller rooftop food district overlooking the lower entertainment sectors below. Unlike the giant luxury restaurants surrounding the casinos, this place felt louder. Messier. More crowded with younger aliens and mixed class workers gathered beneath strings of glowing lanterns and floating lights. Music drifted through the warm air while food stalls lined the rooftop edge.
The second Y/N smelled grilled spices and sweet fried dough, her stomach betrayed her completely and Mingi heard it. “You’re hungry.”
“No I’m not.”
“Your stomach just screamed.”
“It’s dramatic.”
Mingi guided her toward one of the vendors anyway while Y/N glanced around the rooftop trying not to look overwhelmed by the city stretching endlessly around them. From up here, Solaria Prime glittered like a living galaxy. Massive casino towers pulsed neon gold in the distance while transport lanes streaked glowing lines through the sky between skyscrapers and drifting ships overhead while somewhere beneath all that light…. Humans still lived underground. That thought never fully left her.
A vendor handed Mingi several skewers of steaming food wrapped in glowing paper while he passed one toward her without explanation and Y/N eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Food.”
“That is not an answer.”
“You’ll like it.”
“That sounds threatening.” Still she took a bite anyway. “Oh my god.” Mingi looked unbearably smug. “Right?” Y/N glared at him while taking another bite instantly. “This better not be expensive.”
“It absolutely is.”
“Evil.”
Mingi leaned casually against the rooftop railing beside her while the city lights reflected softly across his pale hair and silver jewelry beneath the darkening sky. And annoyingly… it suited him. The nightlife. The chaos. The neon lights reflecting in his eyes while he watched her enjoy things she clearly wanted to resist liking. Y/N swallowed another bite before muttering mostly to herself, “I can’t believe I let you buy me six pairs of shoes.”
“Seven.”
She slowly turned toward him. “What?” Mingi looked entirely too pleased. “You forgot the boots.” Y/N genuinely considered throwing herself off the rooftop as night swallowed Solaria Prime beautifully. By the time Mingi led her deeper into the Crown Strip, the entire city had transformed into something almost unreal beneath waves of neon, holograms, and shimmering gold stretching endlessly across the skyline. And then she saw the casino and Y/N actually stopped walking. “Oh.”
The building towered over the district like some futuristic palace built entirely from light and ego. Massive curved glass walls reflected the city around it while holographic constellations drifted across the exterior in shifting colors. Giant glowing rings rotated slowly above the roofline, visible from districts away, while streams of transports moved in organized lines toward elevated landing docks along the upper levels. LUX AETERNA. The name blazed in gold across the entrance as crowds flooded the enormous staircase leading inside beneath fountains shooting glowing water high into the air while music pulsed faintly through the entire structure like a second heartbeat. “This is a casino?” Mingi looked amused beside her. “One of them.”
“One of…” She looked toward him sharply. “How many are there?”
“On the strip?” He shrugged casually. “Hundreds.” That answer physically hurt her. The closer they got, the more overwhelming everything became. Aliens moved through the crowds in every possible shade and variation imaginable. Some had glowing markings trailing beneath their skin while others had metallic toned eyes, silver freckles, luminous hair, or skin tinted soft blues, greens, violets, and gold beneath the lights. Y/N couldn’t stop staring. Underground, aliens mostly stayed separated from humans unless necessary. Workers. Guards. Officials. Up here? The empire looked massive. Interconnected and untouchable. And absolutely beautiful in ways she hated admitting.
Mingi noticed her watching everything carefully while they entered the casino through towering gold doors. The inside somehow looked even more insane. Lights exploded across every level beneath enormous glass ceilings while holographic games floated above circular tables crowded with nobles, wealthy tourists, and upper sector elites. Giant crystal chandeliers glowed overhead while music drifted through the massive open floors lined with bars, gambling halls, private lounges, and elevated performance stages. Human workers moved elegantly through the chaos carrying glowing drinks while alien dealers manipulated floating cards and holographic dice beneath shifting neon lights. The entire place pulsed with excess.
Y/N slowly turned in place trying to absorb all of it. “This place could fund the underground for years.” Mingi didn’t argue. Because honestly? She was probably right. The second people noticed him entering, however, the atmosphere shifted subtly around them. Heads turned. Whispers spread. Staff straightened instantly. And suddenly Y/N got to witness a version of Mingi she hadn’t fully seen yet. Cocky. Not prince cocky. Not teasing cocky. Dangerously comfortable cocky. This was clearly his environment. He walked through the casino like he owned it because technically… he did. Workers greeted him instantly while upper sector aliens called his name from different tables and lounges as they passed.
At one point a beautiful alien woman with glowing lavender skin actually grabbed his arm while laughing about something in a language Y/N didn’t understand before her eyes landed on Y/N beside him. Mingi smoothly untangled himself without even pausing his stride. “Later, Nirel.”
“You disappeared on me last month,” the woman complained dramatically and Mingi grinned lazily over his shoulder. “I do that.” Y/N raised a brow as they kept walking. “You flirt with everyone.” Mingi looked toward her slowly. “I’m charming.”
“You’re a menace.”
“Also true.”
But Y/N noticed something else too. Despite the flirting. Despite the attention. Mingi never actually lingered. Every glance eventually came back to her. Every conversation ended quickly. This was clearly normal for him. People wanted him. Expected things from him. He belonged to this glittering impossible world completely. Meanwhile Y/N still felt like someone who accidentally wandered into it wearing borrowed skin. Mingi finally led her toward the upper gaming floors overlooking the casino below while lights flashed across his hair and jewelry beneath the neon glow. “You’re thinking too much again,” he murmured.
Y/N looked out across the massive casino floor another moment before answering. “I think this city would eat people alive if it could.” Mingi leaned beside her against the railing, gaze drifting toward the endless lights below. “That’s why you don’t let it.” The higher levels of Lux Aeterna overlooked the casino floor below like private heavens built for the rich. Music pulsed softly through the open lounge while glowing games flickered beneath layers of gold and neon light several floors down. Massive windows stretched across the upper levels revealing Solaria Prime glittering endlessly outside while nobles and wealthy tourists lounged across curved velvet seating beneath floating chandeliers.
Y/N stayed near the balcony railing trying not to look too visibly overwhelmed by the scale of everything. The underground had bars. This place had ecosystems. Mingi leaned beside her comfortably like he belonged nowhere else and people kept staring at him. Not because he was the prince this time. But because he was attractive. Y/N noticed the lingering looks from women and men. A few outright checked him out openly as they passed. Mingi either didn’t notice or genuinely didn’t care anymore. Probably because he was used to it.
“I need a drink,” Y/N muttered mostly to herself and Mingi smirked faintly. “That can be arranged.” He pushed away from the railing then, motioning for her to follow him toward one of the upper lounge bars tucked along the casino balcony. The closer they got, the more Y/N noticed the human workers specifically. Beautiful uniforms. Polished smiles. Perfect posture. Everything about them designed to blend seamlessly into upper sector luxury. The reminder sat uneasily in her stomach as Mingi slid easily onto one side of the glowing bar counter while Y/N took the seat beside him and a human waiter approached almost instantly.
And the second Y/N saw him her stomach dropped. No way. The man looked slightly older now than she remembered, hair shorter and posture straighter beneath the sleek black casino uniform, but she recognized him immediately. Jace. Underground District 4B. Used to run with Vernon’s crew years ago before disappearing topside. Y/N hadn’t seen him since she was maybe seventeen and recognition hit him just as fast. His eyes widened slightly when they landed on her. Then immediately narrowed. And suddenly Y/N understood exactly what she looked like from his perspective right now. A human girl from underground sitting beside the crown prince in an expensive dress while glowing casino lights reflected off crystal and gold around them. To someone from below? It looked bad. Really bad.
Mingi either didn’t notice the shift immediately or pretended not to. “Two drinks,” he said casually. “The blue eclipse.” Jace’s expression remained perfectly neutral toward Mingi. Toward Y/N however…. not so much. The dirty look came fast and sharp before he turned toward the drink station and Y/N felt it like a slap. Mingi noticed her expression change instantly once the waiter stepped away. “What?” Y/N looked back toward the casino floor below. “Nothing.”
“Liar.”
She stayed quiet a second too long and Mingi followed her line of sight toward the human waiter now preparing drinks with visibly tense shoulders and immediately clocked the atmosphere. “You know him.” Y/N sighed softly through her nose. “Kind of.” Mingi leaned one elbow against the glowing bar top watching her carefully now. “From where? The underground? Did you date him? I’m the jealous type just letting you know.” He was joking a little as Jace returned a moment later carrying two glowing blue drinks balanced carefully in his hands. He placed them down in front of Mingi and Y/N professionally, though tension still lingered visibly in the tightness of his jaw. Then finally he looked directly at her. “You move up fast.”
The words sounded polite on the surface but they weren’t. Y/N’s shoulders stiffened instantly and Mingi’s expression cooled almost imperceptibly beside her. Jace glanced briefly toward the prince before looking back at Y/N again. “Didn’t expect to see someone from Vernon’s district sitting up here.” There it was. Judgment. Not because she was with an alien. Because from his perspective… she’d crossed lines underground people weren’t supposed to cross. Mingi stayed quiet another second watching the interaction carefully. “Is there a problem?”
Jace immediately straightened. “No, Your Highness.” But Y/N heard it underneath anyway. Disappointment and disgust. And suddenly the glowing casino around her felt uglier than before as Jace walked away. Y/N stared out across the casino floor below while lights flashed endlessly through Lux Aeterna beneath drifting music and holograms. Everywhere she looked, people laughed, flirted, gambled, celebrated. Meanwhile all she could hear was, You move up fast. Like she’d sold something to get here. Like she belonged to Mingi now in the worst possible way. The anger burned hot and familiar in her chest. At herself. At the empire. At the fact a tiny ugly part of her understood exactly why someone underground would look at her like that.
Mingi watched her quietly beside him. Too observant. Always too observant. “You okay?” he asked carefully as Y/N grabbed the glowing blue drink immediately then chugged it. Mingi’s eyes widened in real alarm. “Shit,” he blurted instantly, grabbing lightly for her wrist too late. “Don’t do that.” Y/N slammed the empty crystal glass back onto the glowing counter with a sharp exhale while icy sweetness burned all the way down her throat. For half a second nothing happened. Then warmth exploded through her body almost instantly. Not normal alcohol warmth. Galactic alcohol felt like liquid fire wrapped in sugar and electricity all at once, spreading hot beneath her skin so fast it made her dizzy. Y/N blinked slowly. “Oh no.”
Mingi looked somewhere between concerned and deeply entertained now. “I warned you alien alcohol hits humans harder.” Y/N pointed vaguely at him. “I’m having emotions.”
“That’s generally how alcohol works.”
“No this feels illegal.” The warmth kept climbing fast through her chest and cheeks while the casino lights around her suddenly looked softer and brighter at the same time. Y/N immediately pushed the empty glass toward him. “I need another.” Mingi barked out a disbelieving laugh. “Absolutely not.”
“Yes absolutely yes.”
“You are already drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“You just stared at a chandelier for fifteen seconds.”
“It was a beautiful chandelier.”
Mingi was definitely laughing now. Not subtle amusement either. Actual laughter as Y/N narrowed her eyes at him while trying to ignore the fact his voice sounded deeper somehow through the alcohol haze and the dark silk shirt hanging open at his chest suddenly seemed offensively distracting. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she accused.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re enjoying this.”
“I am enjoying this.”
Y/N slumped slightly against the glowing bar top while the music and lights of Lux Aeterna swirled warmly around them. Somewhere nearby someone won something big because an entire section of the casino erupted into cheers and flashing holograms but Y/N barely noticed. Because now she was too busy glaring at Mingi while he leaned beside her grinning in that unfairly handsome way again. “You did this on purpose,” she muttered.
“I literally told you not to drink it that fast.”
“But you brought me here.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“It should be.”
Mingi shook his head softly still smiling before sliding her untouched second drink farther away from her reach and Y/N looked horrified. “Betrayal.”
“You’ll thank me later.”
“I definitely won’t.” But despite the irritation and alcohol warming her blood… Jace’s words loosened slightly around her chest. Mostly because Mingi kept looking at her like she mattered more than the entire casino around them. The moment stretched dangerously between them. Music pulsed through the casino while Y/N leaned against the balcony railing trying very hard not to focus on the fact Mingi stood close enough now that she could smell the faint spice and smoke lingering against his dark silk shirt. And Mingi looked entirely too comfortable staring at her like that. Slightly drunk Mingi had apparently lost what little restraint he possessed.
“You’re thinking too hard again,” he murmured for what felt like the hundredth time.
“You’re standing too close again.”
“I’m drunk.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“It’s a fantastic excuse.”
Y/N laughed softly despite herself, head tilting back briefly beneath the glowing casino lights and that was unfortunately the exact moment they got interrupted. “Well this explains why nobody’s been able to find you tonight.” Mingi’s entire expression shifted instantly. Not dramatically. Subtly colder and Y/N noticed right away. A tall alien male approached through the upper lounge levels with effortless confidence stitched into every movement. His dark clothing shimmered faintly beneath the casino lights while silver rings decorated long fingers and sharp dark markings curled subtly beneath one eye disappearing into black hair. Upper class and wealthy. Dangerous in a completely different way than Mingi. The kind of dangerous that smiled too easily.
“Silus,” Mingi said flatly as Silus stopped beside them with a grin that looked charming enough to fool people unfamiliar with him. Unfortunately Mingi clearly was familiar with him. “I leave you alone for one evening and suddenly rumors start spreading through the entire casino about the prince hiding upstairs with a beautiful human.” Silus glanced around theatrically. “Naturally I had to investigate.” Y/N immediately disliked him. His attention shifted toward her then and stayed there slightly too long. Not admiration but assessment. Like he was already imagining exactly what kind of trouble she could become. “Well,” Silus murmured, smile widening faintly. “Now I understand the rumors.”
Mingi stepped slightly closer toward Y/N without seeming to think about it. Possessive enough that even drunk Y/N noticed and Silus definitely noticed too. His brows lifted with visible interest. “Oh,” he said softly. “That’s new.” Mingi looked unimpressed. “What do you want?”
“To say hello.” Silus shrugged lazily before extending one hand politely toward Y/N. “Silus Vaelor.” She shook Silus’s hand carefully. “Y/N.” Silus smiled slowly. “Pretty name.” Mingi looked ready to throw him off the balcony and Silus noticed that too and seemed deeply entertained by it. “What?” he asked innocently toward Mingi. “We’ve entertained the same women before.”
“Not her.” The answer came immediate. Sharp and hostile. Silus blinked once then his grin turned almost wicked. “Oh this is serious serious.” Y/N frowned. “What exactly does that mean?” Silus leaned casually against the railing opposite them beneath the neon lights of the casino. “It means your prince here usually prefers uncomplicated entertainment.” Mingi’s jaw tightened visibly as Y/N looked between them slowly. Silus continued smoothly before Mingi could stop him. “He’s usually allergic to emotional attachment. Very tragic condition.” He gave another amused glance toward Mingi. “Though apparently recoverable.”
Mingi looked one sentence away from violence now. Meanwhile Y/N’s alcohol warmed brain unfortunately latched onto one specific phrase. “You sleep around a lot don’t you.” Silus laughed outright. “Oh he absolutely does.”
“Silus.”
“What? I’m helping.”
Mingi dragged one hand down his face already regretting every decision that led to this conversation. And Y/N suddenly understood why women kept touching Mingi’s arm everywhere they went tonight. Because before her, he probably let them. The atmosphere shifted immediately after that. Not loud enough for the rest of the casino to notice. But Y/N felt it. Mingi’s posture tightened beside her while the flashing neon lights reflected sharply across the glass balcony behind them. Music still pulsed through the casino below and people still laughed around gaming tables several floors down, completely unaware tension had just gone razor thin up here.
Silus, meanwhile, looked entirely relaxed. Too relaxed. The kind of man who enjoyed pushing exactly until people snapped. His gaze lingered openly on Y/N again, dragging slowly over the green dress and exposed skin beneath the casino lights before he smiled faintly. “You know…” he said smoothly, voice almost conversational, “pureblood royals like our prince here can’t taint themselves with humans.” Y/N’s stomach tightened instantly and Mingi’s expression went flat. Silus either didn’t care or enjoyed it. Probably both. He tilted his head slightly while still looking at Y/N. “I however…” His smile widened just enough to become ugly beneath the charm. “Love to.”
The implication landed hard enough to sober Y/N slightly. Not because she felt intimidated. Because suddenly she understood exactly the kind of alien he was. The kind who treated humans like rebellion. Like entertainment. Like disposable thrills to drag through upper sector decadence before tossing them back underground ruined. Mingi hated him for a reason. Silus leaned one elbow lazily against the glowing railing. “Some humans enjoy it, honestly. The parties. The gifts. The corruption.” His eyes flicked knowingly toward Mingi. “Some even start believing they belong up here.” Y/N’s jaw tightened. There it was again. The same accusation from Jace earlier. The same ugly assumption. That she’d traded herself for luxury.
Before she could answer though Mingi stepped fully between them. And suddenly the warmth from earlier disappeared entirely. His voice came low and cold. Enough to cut clean through the music around them. “Watch your mouth.” Silus blinked slowly. Then smiled again like this amused him. “There he is.” Mingi’s eyes locked onto him sharply now beneath the flashing casino lights. “You don’t get to speak to her like that.” Silus lifted both hands innocently. “I’m speaking honestly.”
“No,” Mingi said flatly. “You’re being disrespectful.” For the first time since approaching them, Silus’s smile faded slightly around the edges. Because despite the prince’s reputation for recklessness and charm… everyone knew there were lines. And Mingi sounded dangerously close to one now. Y/N stood quietly behind him watching the tension coil tighter between the two aliens. The difference between them felt obvious suddenly. Silus looked at humans like toys. Mingi looked angry someone implied Y/N could ever be one. That realization hit somewhere deep enough to make her chest ache unexpectedly as Silus finally exhaled softly through his nose before stepping backward slightly. “My mistake.”
Mingi didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Silus’s eyes flicked toward Y/N one last time before the smirk returned faintly. “Careful with him,” he said casually. “The Prince breaks things accidentally all the time.” Then he disappeared back into the casino crowd beneath the glowing lights and music. Silence lingered behind him as Mingi still stood tense in front of Y/N another moment before finally turning back toward her. And the second he looked at her the anger vanished again. “You okay?” he asked quietly. Y/N stared at him for a long second. “You really hate him.” Mingi looked toward the crowd where Silus vanished. “More than you know.”
The casino suddenly felt louder after Silus left, but the tension he left behind lingered stubbornly between Y/N and Mingi anyway. Y/N leaned back against the glowing railing slowly, arms folding tighter across herself while she watched the crowds moving through the massive casino beneath them. Humans serving drinks. Aliens gambling fortunes away. Upper sector nobles laughing beneath chandeliers bright enough to blind people underground. And somewhere inside all of it sat that ugly phrase again. Taint. She hated the word instantly. Mingi stayed beside her quietly now, one hand wrapped around his drink while the other rested loosely against the balcony edge. The anger from earlier still lingered faintly around him beneath the alcohol haze as Y/N looked toward him. “What did he mean?”
Mingi sighed immediately like he already knew exactly where this conversation was heading. “Y/N…”
“No.” She shook her head once. “What did he mean by pureblood royals not being allowed to taint themselves?” Mingi groaned softly and tipped his head back briefly toward the glowing ceiling above them. “There’s no tainting,” he muttered. “Pureblood royals just like pretending they’re better than everyone else.” Y/N watched him carefully. “But it’s still a thing.”
Mingi took another slow drink before finally speaking lower. “Royal houses obsess over bloodlines. Political alliances. Inheritance.” His jaw tightened faintly. “Most of them believe relationships with humans weaken royal legitimacy.” Y/N frowned harder. “That’s insane.”
“Welcome to the empire.” The bitterness in his voice caught her attention immediately. Then another thought hit her. Y/N looked back toward the glowing casino floor for a second before asking carefully, “So if you were to sleep…” She paused briefly, hating how suddenly aware she became of the conversation itself. Because despite the alcohol loosening her up, one thing remained painfully true…. she was twenty two and still a virgin. Not by choice exactly. Not intentionally. The underground just wasn’t exactly overflowing with safe or appealing options. Most men there either worked for people like Vernon or turned cruel the second they smelled desperation.
And Mingi….. Mingi flirted so naturally with her that sometimes she forgot he probably had more experience than entire populations combined. Y/N cleared her throat lightly before continuing. “If you slept with a human,” she said carefully, “you’d what? Be disowned?” Mingi looked at her fully then and some of the humor returned faintly around his mouth. “My father would lose his mind.”
“That’s not technically an answer.”
Mingi leaned one elbow against the glowing railing beside her, close enough again that she could feel warmth radiating from him beneath the cold casino lights. “I wouldn’t get disowned,” he admitted. “But politically?” His mouth twisted slightly. “It would cause problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“The kind royal houses spend centuries trying to avoid.”
Y/N stared at him another second beneath the neon glow. Then realization clicked slowly into place. “You’ve never slept with a human.” The silence after her realization lasted just long enough to become suspicious and for Y/N’s brows to lift immediately. “You haven’t.” Mingi looked mildly offended suddenly. “I told you that already.”
“I thought you were joking!”
“I was not joking.”
Y/N stared at him openly now. Because honestly? That made absolutely no sense. This man looked like temptation personally designed by a corrupt galaxy and somehow had never crossed that line? Mingi watched the realization spread across her face and immediately understood exactly what she was thinking and his grin returned slowly. “What?” Y/N shook her head once in disbelief. “You’re telling me women and men practically throw themselves at you in this casino and you still haven’t?” Mingi stepped slightly closer beneath the flashing lights, voice dipping lower again naturally. “Humans usually avoid me.”
Y/N swallowed once slowly. Because somehow… the way he said it sounded less arrogant and more disappointed than she expected as a human server drifted past them carrying a floating crystal tray lined with glowing cocktails in impossible colors. Without thinking too hard about it, Y/N reached over and grabbed one. Bright pink. Sparkling and pretty. Terrible criteria for decision making. Mingi was still watching her from too close beside the railing, distracted by the way the casino lights reflected gold and violet across her face while the green dress clung softly against her body beneath the neon glow when his eyes dropped toward the drink in her hand and all the warmth vanished from his expression instantly. “Oh no.”
Y/N blinked at him. “What?” Mingi straightened immediately now, visibly more sober through pure panic alone. “Y/N, don’t drink that.” Naturally, she took a sip that made Mingi actually lunge lightly for the glass too late. “Shit.” Y/N frowned at him while swallowing. “What?” She repeated. The drink tasted incredible. Sweet and icy with something citrus underneath and a strange sparkling warmth already spreading across her tongue.
Mingi looked horrified. “That’s not alcohol.” Y/N looked slowly down at the glowing pink drink. Then back at him. “Excuse me?”
“It’s a stimulant.”
The warmth already blooming through her chest suddenly intensified frighteningly fast. Not heavy like alcohol. But lighter. Sharper and electric somehow. Y/N blinked once slowly. “Oh that feels weird.” Mingi dragged one hand down his face. “Why would you just grab a random glowing drink?”
“It was pink!”
“That is not survival instinct!”
The server carrying the tray visibly noticed the situation now and immediately looked nervous. “Your Highness, I didn’t realize…”
“It’s fine,” Mingi interrupted quickly while taking the remaining drinks off the tray before any more disasters occurred. Y/N leaned harder against the balcony railing suddenly feeling like the entire casino became approximately thirty percent prettier. Music sounded deeper now too. And Mingi…. Mingi looked unfairly attractive suddenly. Like offensively so. Y/N stared at him openly. “You’re glowing.” Mingi closed his eyes briefly. “Oh we’re in trouble.” He knew exactly what kind of drink she grabbed. Upper sector party stimulant. Strong even for aliens. Humans usually only drank tiny diluted amounts and Y/N had just taken a solid swallow directly from the source. Fantastic. The warmth spread faster beneath her skin while the casino lights around them sharpened beautifully into streaks of color and movement. Every sound felt richer somehow and Y/N suddenly smiled.
“Oh no,” Mingi muttered again. Because drunk Y/N had already been a problem. Whatever this was about to become? Far worse. He looked away from her for maybe thirty seconds. Thirty. That was all it took. One casino manager spotted him and started asking some meaningless question about upcoming imperial appearances. Mingi answered distractedly, attention already split in half because somewhere behind him Y/N had gone unusually quiet. Which, considering the amount of alcohol and upper sector stimulants currently in her bloodstream, should’ve terrified him immediately.
By the time he turned back toward her, she was gone. Mingi froze. His eyes swept across the upper lounge instantly. Empty railing. Crowded tables. Strangers laughing beneath neon lights. No green dress. No Y/N. “Fuck.” Real panic hit him so fast it almost felt sobering as he moved immediately through the crowd scanning faces below while his pulse kicked hard against his ribs. Y/N barely knew this city. Barely knew the palace. And right now she was intoxicated enough to follow literally any impulse her brain produced. Mingi pushed through the upper lounge levels quickly now, eyes tracking every corridor and staircase branching deeper into the casino while casino lights flashed violently around him. Nothing. No sign of her and suddenly a dozen terrible possibilities slammed through his head all at once. Someone bothering her. Someone trying to take advantage of her. Silus finding her alone. The thought alone made his jaw tighten sharply as Mingi descended another level scanning through crowds of nobles and tourists beneath giant holographic games flickering overhead. “Your Highness.”
Mingi barely slowed. Then the voice registered. Azura. He turned sharply near one of the lower VIP lounges where Azura Vaelor stood draped in shimmering black fabric beneath the casino lights, silver jewelry woven elegantly through dark hair while subtle violet markings glowed faintly beneath one eye. Beautiful. Regal. Cold. Everything royal houses adored. And everything Mingi avoided. Her eyes tracked his expression immediately. “You look distressed,” she observed smoothly. “I’m busy.” He snapped and Azura smiled faintly like that amused her. “Looking for your human?” Mingi’s patience snapped thinner instantly. “Have you seen her?”
Azura took a slow sip from her glowing drink before answering. “No.” Mingi moved to step past her immediately before she continued. “My brother seems interested in her.” That stopped him cold and the smile on Azura’s mouth sharpened slightly. “There it is,” she murmured. “I was wondering if the rumors were true.” Mingi stared at her flatly now. “Silus is interested in anything with a pulse.”
“Yes,” Azura agreed calmly. “But this appears different for you.” The casino lights flashed softly across her face while crowds drifted behind them. Azura tilted her head slightly studying him now. “You’ve never cared enough to keep a human subordinate before.” There it was. Judgment. Not loud like Silus. But sharper. More controlled. And unlike her brother, Azura didn’t merely dislike humans. She genuinely believed they were beneath her. Mingi knew that look well. He’d spent his entire life surrounded by versions of it. “She’s not yours,” Azura continued smoothly. “If Silus decides he wants her, he’ll pursue it.”
Something dangerous flashed through Mingi instantly. “She’s not a thing to pursue.” Azura’s brows lifted faintly at the sharpness in his voice. “Careful,” she warned softly. “You’re beginning to sound emotionally attached.” Mingi stepped closer before he could stop himself, voice dropping low enough that only she heard it beneath the music and flashing lights. “If your brother touches her,” he said coldly, “I’ll break his jaw.” Azura actually looked surprised. Not because of the threat. But because Mingi meant it completely.
Azura took another elegant sip from her drink before dismissing his warning with a tiny wave of her hand. “Please.” Her eyes moved over him carefully now, sharp intelligence sitting coldly behind perfect upper sector composure. “My father says he’s discussing our joining with the royal council and your father soon.” Mingi’s jaw tightened. The Vaelor family had been circling the throne for years through politics, influence, and strategic marriages. Azura was considered perfect by imperial standards. Pureblood. Educated. Cruel enough to survive royal life. Everything Mingi hated.
Azura stepped slightly closer now beneath the neon lights. “You should hurry up and dispel whatever bored interest you have in this human,” she continued smoothly. “Because once we’re engaged…” Her mouth curved faintly. “If she’s still around…” The pause felt intentional. “I will get rid of her myself.” The world around them seemed to dim for one sharp second. Mingi stared at her and suddenly Azura realized something too late. The prince’s expression had changed completely. Not angry anymore. Worse. Cold. The resemblance hit hardest when he looked like this. Not to Garus. But to his grandfather. The former emperor whose name still lingered through the empire like a scar generations later.
Mingi stepped toward her slowly now, eyes empty of humor beneath the flashing casino lights and when he spoke, his voice came low enough that nobody else around them could hear. “If anything happens to her…” Azura’s confidence faltered slightly for the first time all night. Because suddenly Mingi didn’t look spoiled. Or reckless. Or flirtatious. He looked royal in the oldest, most dangerous sense of the word. “You’ll find out,” he said quietly, “why so many people used to fear my grandfather.” The words landed like ice and Azura actually went still. Because everyone knew stories about the former emperor. Violence. Purges. Executions. Entire districts erased for betrayal. And standing here beneath Lux Aeterna’s glittering lights for one terrifying second…… Mingi looked exactly like him. Not physically but in potential.
The silence between them stretched tight before Mingi finally stepped backward again. Then turned away completely. Azura watched him disappear into the casino crowds with something unfamiliar settling uneasily in her chest. She’d spent years assuming Prince Mingi was soft. Spoiled. Disinterested. Too distracted by pleasure and rebellion to ever become truly dangerous. Tonight she realized something horrifying…. the empire’s future emperor had simply never cared enough about anything before now.
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Mingi tore through Lux Aeterna like a man unraveling. Every level of the casino blurred together beneath flashing holograms and pounding music while crowds moved endlessly around him in waves of glittering fabric and neon light. No Y/N. Every second without seeing her tightened something ugly in his chest harder. He checked the upper lounges again. The gaming floors. The private balconies. Nothing. By the time he reached the lower entertainment levels, genuine panic had started burning beneath his ribs again. Which was insane. He had known her for barely two days. So why did the thought of something happening to her make him feel violent?
The music grew louder the deeper he moved through the casino until eventually he reached one of the massive lower clubs where lights pulsed crimson and gold across packed dance floors crowded with humans and aliens moving beneath clouds of holographic smoke. And then he saw her and instant relief slammed through him so hard he almost staggered. She near the center of the dance floor beneath shifting pink lights. Alive. Laughing. Completely fine. Y/N moved through the music like she’d forgotten gravity existed, loose beneath the effects of the drink still glowing warm in her bloodstream.
The green dress clung perfectly against her body beneath flashing lights as she danced completely lost to the music. And for one stupid relieved second Mingi just watched her. Beautiful and happy. Free in a way he hadn’t seen before. Then he noticed who stood in front of her. Silus. The upper class alien leaned close enough to touch while Y/N laughed at something he said, too intoxicated to notice the calculated satisfaction in his expression. One of Silus’ hands rested low against her waist guiding her lazily through the music while neon lights flashed across his smirk. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.
The relief inside Mingi vanished instantly as something dark snapped sharply beneath his ribs. Hot. Possessive. Ugly. Mine. The thought hit so violently it almost shocked him as Mingi stopped moving completely at the edge of the dance floor while the club lights strobed gold and crimson across his face. He had never felt this before. Not truly. Not with anyone. People flirted with him constantly. Touched him. Fucked him. Wanted him. And he never cared. But watching Silus touch Y/N….. watching Y/N smile drunkenly up at another man while that man looked at her like entertainment…. Mingi felt rage crawl hot beneath his skin so fast it almost sobered him completely.
His jaw tightened hard enough to hurt as scross the dance floor, Silus finally looked up saw him. The smirk spreading slowly across his face afterward made everything worse. Because the bastard knew exactly what he was doing now as Y/N remained oblivious entirely, still laughing softly beneath the flashing lights while music pulsed through the crowded club around them. Then Silus’hand slid slightly higher against her waist and Mingi moved. Fast enough that people stepped aside instinctively when he cut through the dance floor toward them.
The crowd blurred around him. Music thundered through his chest alongside something far more dangerous than anger. For the first time in his entire life Mingi felt possessive enough to become terrifying. Y/N finally noticed him when he reached the dance floor and her face lit up immediately beneath the flashing lights, drunk warmth still glowing through her veins while she smiled lazily at him. “Mingi….” He didn’t say a word. Didn’t even look at Silus. Mingi walked directly up to Y/N, grabbed her effortlessly around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder.
The entire nearby section of the dance floor froze as Y/N shrieked and startled drunken laughter immediately, even Silus actually barked out a laugh. Because this? This was unprecedented. Several upper sector aliens nearby openly stared while Mingi turned without a single word and started walking straight back through the crowd carrying Y/N over his shoulder like she weighed nothing as her brain took approximately five seconds to process what was happening.
“MINGI!”
He kept walking.
“Mingi put me DOWN!”
“No.” The answer came immediate and flat. Y/N blinked upside down beneath flashing casino lights while people openly gawked as the crown prince marched through Lux Aeterna carrying a human girl over his shoulder with visible fury carved into every line of his body. She pushed weakly against his back trying and failing not to laugh because the alcohol and stimulant still humming through her system made this feel approximately seventy percent funnier than it should.
“You’re acting insane!”
“You disappeared.”
“You were talking politics!”
“You danced with Silus.”
Y/N paused upside down over his shoulder. “You sound jealous.” Mingi’s grip tightened slightly against the backs of her thighs and people moved aside rapidly as he carried her through the casino floors. Y/N buried her face against the back of his dark silk shirt trying not to laugh harder. “You just kidnapped me again.”
“You wandered off.”
“I was dancing.”
“With Silus.”
“So?”
Mingi finally stopped near one of the private transport elevators, pressing the access panel sharply before the doors slid open. Then finally he sat her back onto her feet and Y/N stumbled slightly from the sudden movement before looking up at him. And immediately lost some of her amusement. Because Mingi looked genuinely angry. Not at her exactly. At the situation. At Silus. At himself maybe. His eyes stayed locked on her face while his chest rose sharply. “Don’t do that again.” The possessiveness in his voice hit hard enough to momentarily cut through the haze in her bloodstream.
Y/N stared at him. And for the first time since this whole thing started the tension between them stopped being playful. The ride back to the palace blurred together in streaks of gold city lights and lingering adrenaline. She barely remembered getting into the transport. Barely remembered half the things she said on the way back either. The stimulant still pulsed warmly through her bloodstream beneath the alcohol, making everything feel heightened and strange and too vivid all at once. Music from the casino still echoed faintly in her head while Mingi sat across from her inside the private transport looking equally wrecked in an entirely different way.
Because now that the anger faded…. now that Silus was gone… Mingi couldn’t stop replaying what he’d felt seeing her with someone else. Possessive. Violently so. And it unsettled him. Y/N stared at him most of the way back without hiding it either. Every time the transport lights flashed across his face she remembered his hand gripping her thighs while carrying her through the casino. The way he’d looked ready to kill someone. The low dangerous edge in his voice telling her not to do that again. Something about it settled hot and aching beneath her skin in ways the stimulant only made worse.
By the time they reached the palace, both of them felt dangerously untethered. Mingi walked her back toward her room quietly through dim late night corridors while the imperial residence slept around them. The towering windows reflected moonlight across polished floors and somewhere far below Solaria Prime still glittered endlessly through the dark. Y/N stumbled slightly once near her doorway and Mingi caught her instantly. His hand wrapped around her waist automatically steadying her against him. Too close. Way too close.
The doors slid open the second they approached and the sylin immediately chirped excitedly from the bed the moment it saw her return but Y/N barely noticed. Because her entire focus stayed trapped on Mingi. On the warmth of his hand against her waist. The open collar of his dark shirt. The silver chains against skin. The fact he was still looking at her like she was something dangerous to him now too and the room suddenly felt too quiet.
The stimulant buzzing through her veins tangled horribly with every complicated feeling currently lodged inside her chest until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Mingi started pulling his hand away carefully. Big mistake because Y/N grabbed the front of his shirt, fingers moving to grip at his chain. His eyes snapped back to her face as she glared up at him through the haze, visibly frustrated by feelings she couldn’t even fully name right now. “I can’t stand you.” The pout in her voice completely ruined the threat. Mingi’s mouth twitched faintly despite himself. “That’s unfortunate.” Y/N narrowed her eyes harder. Then before either of them could think too carefully about it….
She pulled herself upward by his chain and kissed him making Mingi go completely still. For one split second neither of them moved. Then he broke. His hands grabbed her hips hard enough to pull her fully against him while he kissed her back with sudden reckless intensity that stole the air directly from her lungs. The alcohol still lingering in his system combined with hours of tension and jealousy and wanting her entirely too much finally snapped something loose inside him.
Y/N made a soft startled sound against his mouth when he backed her toward the doorframe without breaking the kiss. His hands slid lower. Over the curve of her waist. Her thighs. Then down to her ass, squeezing once, before he lifted her effortlessly against him. The movement pulled a breathless moan from her while her arms wrapped tighter around the back of his neck as Mingi kissed her deeper instinctively, fingers tightening beneath the fabric of the green dress while every warning his father ever gave him disappeared completely from his mind.
The sylin chirped loudly from the bed but neither of them heard it. Her soft moans against his mouth hit Mingi like gasoline to a fire already burning too hot beneath his skin. Every inch of her pressed against him while her fingers tangled tighter at the back of his neck and the stimulant clouding her thoughts made her cling to him with reckless honesty. He kissed her harder. Hungrier. Like he’d been trying not to do this since the moment she smarted off to him in that alley underground. The room blurred around them beneath low palace lighting while his hands tightened beneath her thighs keeping her lifted against him.
Y/N’s body shifted against his and the friction pulled a rough breath from him when he felt how hard he was and buried against her he was, her dress had slid completely up to her waist. His mouth left hers. He needed air. Needed distance. Instead he buried his face against her neck and Y/N tilted her head back with another breathless moan while he kissed slowly down the soft skin beneath her jaw. The scent of her mixed with expensive perfume and lingering casino smoke wrapped around his head like another drug entirely. And when she moaned again, this time more needy, borderline whimpering…
Mingi actually moaned back against her throat as his restraint snapped thinner. One hand spread against her lower back while the other held firmly beneath her thighs as he kissed lower, slower, teeth barely grazing sensitive skin before sucking gently enough to leave warmth blooming there and Y/N shivered hard against him. “Mingi…” The way she said his name nearly destroyed him. He pressed her tighter against him, hips shifting before he could stop himself and the friction dragged another soft broken sound from her lips as his bulge grinded against her through the growing dampness on her panties. And then suddenly reality slammed back into him hard enough to hurt.
Mingi froze. Because Y/N wasn’t fully here right now. The alcohol. The stimulant. The overwhelming emotions flooding her system. She was intoxicated enough to barely stand without him holding her. “Shit.” The word came rough and quiet against her neck as Y/N blinked dazedly down at him, still wrapped around him while he stood there breathing hard trying to gather the shattered pieces of his self control back together. “Mingi…”
“No.” He swallowed once sharply, forcing himself to pull his mouth away from her skin despite how badly every part of him wanted to continue. “No, no…” Y/N frowned, still hazy and flushed beneath the dim lighting. “Did I do something….” The answer came immediate. Almost desperate. “No. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Fuck. The mark already darkening faintly beneath her jaw nearly made him lose the argument with himself all over again. Mine. He wanted every part of her to be his. Mingi closed his eyes briefly before carefully adjusting his hold on her. Then instead of kissing her again, he carried her toward the bed. Y/N stared at him the entire time like she couldn’t understand why he stopped. Her fingers still curled weakly into the front of his shirt while the room spun warmly around her beneath the lingering effects of the drink.
Mingi lowered her carefully onto the massive bed, hands lingering at her waist one dangerous second too long before he forced himself backward after pulling her dress back down to cover her. He needed distance immediately as Y/N sat there breathless and flushed in the middle of the blankets, green dress slightly rumpled, lips swollen from kissing him while confusion clouded her expression. And Mingi looked wrecked. His hair disheveled. Shirt half ripped. Silver chains shifting messily against his chest while he stood there staring at her like walking away physically hurt him. Which honestly? It did.
Because every instinct in his body screamed to climb into that bed with her. Instead he stepped backward toward the door. Y/N watched him silently now, the haze in her eyes softening into something almost vulnerable as realization slowly began piecing together through the fog in her head as Mingi stopped at the doorway. “Goodnight, Y/N.” And before he could change his mind he left, doors sliding shut behind him softly.
Leaving Y/N alone staring at the empty doorway while her pulse still raced from feeling him against her and the ghost of his mouth lingered hot against her skin where the mark remained.
summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, gang related activity, and murder; five things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.
warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.
pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f.reader.
word count: 13.6k.
chapter playlist: knocking on heaven’s door - bob dylan
masterlist directory
You stared back at the brunet, unable to form words. Two days of absolute silence, and here he was so suddenly. You didn't know whether to be angry or relieved at his presence. "I, uh, went to Makoto, but your boss said you never came in for your shift or called," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thought I'd come make sure you were okay."
“A call would have sufficed, if you actually cared,” you stated flatly. You decided both emotions were valid. You were undeniably happy to see Jungkook, but the sight of him only magnified your anger. It shouldn't have taken him two days to finally reach out.
"I thought it was better to give you space after what happened. I know how you are, y/n."
You let out a short scoff. "How I am?" you questioned, furrowing your eyebrows, your voice slightly rising. “Go ahead and enlighten me on how I am, Jungkook.”
Jungkook sighed, his lip ring clanking against his teeth as he pulled his bottom lip inward. “Can we talk inside? I really don’t wanna do this in your hallway.” He pleaded. Jungkook was never truly the confrontational type, which contradicted you because you in fact were the confrontational type.
You huffed, brushing past him to unlock your apartment door. Once both of you were inside, you shut the door firmly. Jungkook immediately walked to your couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside him as an invitation for you to sit. You hesitated for a brief moment before giving in, placing your plushy and purse on the table.
You sat beside him, hands clasped tightly in your lap, avoiding eye contact. The tension in the silence was thick. “So... why weren't you at work today? It's not like you to miss a shift.” he finally started. You fiddled with your fingers, scrambling for an excuse for your absence. “I….umm… went to the Daegu fair,” you admitted, only fabricating the truth just a tad. "With Mina."
Jungkook tilted his head, a frown forming his lips. "You did a no-call, no-show to go to the Daegu fair? What were you thinking?" he asked, ready to lecture you. You certainly weren't in the mood to hear it, especially from him. Not now. It felt like he was deliberately trying to pivot away from the real issue at hand; your relationship and his cold, dead silence.
"I was thinking I wanted to have some fun, and not sit at work wondering why the man I care about ghosted me for two days." you snapped. This brought the brunet down a notch, making him exhale heavily. The room fell silent once again, but not for very long. "Look, I'm sorry," Jungkook said. "It's just... we've been best friends since we were kids and–"
“And you still only see me as that." You cut him off.
"No," he countered sternly. "What we have is special because of our history. We got to be best friends before having a romantic connection, which is rare. You're not like any girl I've dated. You’re much more to me. I don't want to mess this up. I don't wanna lose you. I can't. The thought terrifies me because I’m losing more than my girl, I’m losing my best friend too,"
Your eyes finally connected with his, your demeanor softening at his words. "I want our first time to be special," he continued. "I don't want it to be random sex like I’m used to. I want your first experience to be your best experience.”
You sighed, nodding your head. "You're right. It should be special..." you replied. You understood Jungkook's view; it was sweet, and it showed just how much he truly valued you. You appreciated his sentiment, but you were still frustrated. Sexually frustrated. You were ready for more. It was easy for Jungkook to sideline sex when he’d been having it since high school. Meanwhile, you, the innocent virgin, had spent all this time waiting for your first crush to choose you. Now that he finally has, the reward feels slightly lackluster.
"I'm sorry," you finally said. You weren't entirely sure if you meant it, but for now, you just wanted to put the drama behind you. Jungkook smiled, taking your hands in his, and you gladly let him. "I missed you," he said. "It doesn't feel right not talking to you every day."
You returned a genuine smile. "The feeling is mutual. But if you ever ghost me again, prepare for me to come to the tattoo shop with a vengeance." You playfully squinted your eyes at him.
Jungkook chuckled, nodding his head. "I wouldn't expect anything less." He says. After a moment of silence the brunet’s eyes flicked behind you, catching sight of the new plush toy sitting on top of the table. “Nice plushie,” he smirked, knowing all too well how much you loved anything Hello Kitty related. “Guess you and Mina had a good time at the fair, huh?”
You followed his gaze to the plushie. “Yeah… surprisingly, I did.” You chewed on your bottom lip, your mind suddenly miles away, fixed on the raven.
"Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up today after ditching without a call," Jimin said, a smirk plastered on his face as he stepped out of the kitchen with two glasses of water. "The old man's gonna have a field day." He was joking, but there was truth to it.
You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. You knew a lecture was coming, along with an endless amount of dish and bathroom duty. Possibly even termination. Mr. Kim hated when staff called in, but he especially loathed it when they didn’t.
"I’m nervous as it is," you said. "Did Mr. Kim say anything to you about me?"
"To me? No," Jimin replied, setting the glasses down at the table he was waiting on. "But you know how he is about punctuality. No exceptions."
You rubbed the nape of your neck and slowly shuffled toward the back of the kitchen to meet your doom.
“Good luck!” Jimin teased.
God, what would you do if you lost your job at Makoto? The job market was brutal right now, and finding new employment wouldn’t be easy. You were terrified of the domino effect that would follow.
Mr. Kim noticed you immediately upon entering the kitchen, but to your surprise, he only nodded in your direction. "Good evening, y/n. Glad to see you came in today," he said calmly before dusting his hands on his apron. “Hurry up and clock in, Jimin could use some assistance out there.”
Your eyebrows scrunched. ‘That’s it? No yelling? No speech? What's his angle?’ you wondered hesitantly.
“O-oh, uh… of course…” you stammered. You grabbed your time card and swiped it through the clock. You glanced back at Mr. Kim, who handled the orders just as he did on any other day. But today shouldn’t have been like ‘any other day’. It should have been a day of reckoning for ditching work yesterday, yet Mr. Kim didn’t even seem to care. You decided that you would just rip the bandage off and bring it up yourself.
"Hey, Mr. Kim, about not calling in yesterday…" you started, but the old man instantly cut you off.
"Don't worry about it, kid! It happens." He said, quickly dismissing the conversation.
You stood stunned. This was certainly unlike your boss. Mr. Kim could be kind when he wanted to be, but when it came to work, he was a stickler for the rules. As Jimin had said, there were no exceptions.
You wondered what could have made him so nonchalant about a no-call, no-show, until suddenly, Yoongi's voice flashed through your mind.
"Don't stress about that, princess. I'II deal with your boss after the fact."
Could it be that Yoongi had actually followed through? It was the only explanation for Mr. Kim's uncharacteristic behavior. Even though the raven had said he’d handle it, you hadn’t honestly believed him. You didn’t think Yoongi could actually hold that kind of power over someone as headstrong as Mr. Kim. It left you wondering what else, exactly, that man could control.
Nevertheless, you smiled slightly to yourself, knowing he had used that power to keep your job intact. You grabbed an apron from the hook, along with a notepad and pen, preparing to head out to the floor. Just then, Jimin walked in, his expression uneasy. “What’s your problem?” You ask him, an eyebrow perched.
"T-table three wants you to take their order instead of me," the brunet said.
You didn't even need to question why; his unease told you exactly who was sitting at table three. You nodded, tying your apron around your waist. Jimin exchanged a look with Mr. Kim behind you before you headed out to the dining floor. To your lack of surprise, there sat Yoongi and Joon across from each other. You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, a small smile trying to peek through.
"There's my favorite waitress," the raven smiled as you approached. His left arm rested casually on the back of his chair.
You squinted at him, folding your arms across your chest. "Looks like someone’s too anxious to wait until tonight," you stated.
Yoongi shrugged. “What can I say? You make me feel like I’ve got a school crush. I want to see you whenever I can.” He smirked, biting down on his bottom lip.
You rolled your eyes, but inside, butterflies were already beginning to flutter. “Are you two here to order, or are you just here to cause trouble?” you asked, quickly changing the subject. You didn’t want to look like you actually enjoyed Yoongi’s presence, not with Jimin lurking nearby. He had a big mouth, and before you knew it, Jungkook and Mina would find out that there was something unspoken forming between you and Yoongi.
“I don’t know about the boss man here, but I could go for some Jjajangmyeon and a cool bottle of soju. Don’t bring me any of that warm shit,” Joon said.
You eyed the lanky man. “We don’t serve alcohol here,” you stated dryly.
“Well, that’s a fucking buzzkill. What do y’all serve here?”
“You can try looking at the menu in front of you.” You snarked. You couldn’t help the smart remarks when it came to Joon. He simply rubbed you the wrong way, Yoongi’s right-hand man or not. You didn’t like him.
Joon smirked, your snarkiness having no bearing on him. “Someone’s testy today. This isn’t very good customer service,” he joked, though he picked up the menu nonetheless. He scanned through the drink section before closing it. “I’ll take a cola,” he said.
You wrote down his order, then turned to Yoongi, who seemingly hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time. “And you?”you questioned the raven.
“I’ll take some water, sweetheart.” The raven said.
You nodded, not needing to write it down. As you collected their menus from the table, you hesitated. “Hey, um…” you started, keeping your voice low. “Thanks for actually talking to my boss. You seriously saved me from getting fired.”
Yoongi tilted his head slightly. “You said ‘actually’ as though you had no faith in my word. You didn’t think I’d talk to your boss?” he questioned.
“You want me to be honest?”
“That’s all I ever want you to be with me, sweetheart.”
“Okay then,” you nodded, keeping your voice hushed so you wouldn't be overheard. “No. I didn’t think you’d talk to my boss. I thought it was just a little lie you told to get me to come with you yesterday.”
The raven smirked at your doubt. “One thing you need to learn about me, princess, is that my word is bond. When I say I’m gonna do something, I do it.” He held his smirk, but there was something beneath it now, something entirely serious. Dangerous, even.
And you liked it. Shamefully.
"Noted," you said, your gaze locked with his dark, intense eyes. Before the moment could stretch any further, the bell above the front door chimed, snapping you back to reality. "'I’ll be right with you-" The customer service voice died in your throat. You froze as you turned around, coming face to face with a familiar brunet.
"J-Jungkook?" You stuttered. “What’re you doing here?”
Jungkook's smile vanished as he looked past you, spotting Yoongi sitting there. He squinted, a hard edge replacing his previously soft expression. "I'm on my break... thought I'd come in to see you." His eyes remained glued to the raven. "What the hell is he doing here?"
You looked back at Yoongi, his eyes dark and intimidating as they always were, his glare on Jungkook vicious. "They're, uh... ordering food," you said. You could feel people in the restaurant starting to stare, Jimin included.
"I think they need to order food somewhere else," Jungkook spat, his gaze hardening on Yoongi.
"Is that right?" The raven finally spoke, his voice dangerously monotone.
"You trying to start somethin', chief?" Joon chimed in, shifting in his seat, fully prepared to back Yoongi. “Because we don’t have a problem sending you out on a stretcher.”
You shivered at those words. Knowing there was no way this situation would end well for Jungkook, you quickly stepped in. Grabbing the bushy haired man by the arm, you pushed him away from their table and steered him toward an empty one across the restaurant."Are you trying to get yourself jumped?" you asked, keeping your voice low as you questioned the brunet.
Jungkook scoffed. "I'm not scared of those pussies like everyone else. Especially when it comes to you." He finally pulled his gaze away from their table and onto you. "You okay? Is he still harassing you?" he asked.
You sighed. You understood Jungkook's frustration with seeing Yoongi. After everything you had told him about your first encounter with the raven, plus his murdered friend having some type of connection to him, you could imagine why he was so bold.
"They're really just here to eat, and no matter how much disdain I have for someone, I still have to act on a professional level while at work. I don't think fighting helps my case."
The brunet ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. "You're right. I'm sorry," he apologized, his hand reaching out to gently rub your arm.
"Don't worry about it, okay? Just sit down and order something. You came here for me, right?" You smiled, hoping that would bring his mood back up. The brunet grinned back, unable to stay angry when you were in his presence. "Right," he agreed, taking a seat at the table you had escorted him to."My focus is on you, beautiful." He placed a hand on your hip.
You could feel the cold stare burning into your back, the raven glaring daggers in your direction.You didn't bother to look back as you kept your attention on Jungkook.
"Hey, waitress," Yoongi's voice suddenly chimed behind you. You turned around. "Is this how your boss runs his establishment? How about instead of fucking around with your little boyfriend, you get us our orders?" There was venom in his voice when he spat the word “boyfriend”. Of course, no one could spot it except you– and maybe Joon. You scowled at the raven for calling you out so loudly.
"Hey," Jimin whispered, quickly walking up to Jungkook's table. He nudged your shoulder. "You take care of their orders, and I'll take Jungkook's. I don't wanna know what those guys will do if they have to wait any longer."
You complied, not wanting to take that chance and find out either. Leaving Jimin to handle Jungkook, you headed back into the kitchen and ripped the order from your notepad to hook it onto the ticket line. "The hell is going on out there?" Mr. Kim asked, frowning.
"Nothing anymore. Jimin and I have it under control," you assured him as you grabbed two cups from the dish shelf. Moving toward the beverage station, you filled both cups with ice before pouring their respective drinks. You marched back out to the dining room and set the cups down on Yoongi's table. "Satisfied?" you asked the raven.
"Not nearly," he grimaced. "What would satisfy me right now would leave you devastated, sweetheart." His voice was calm, but his words were dark. You chose not to push, truly not wanting to know what he meant by that. "Your food should be out shortly," you said to Joon, deliberately avoiding the raven’s eyes.
You turned around, leaving Yoongi and Joon alone at their table. Spotting Jungkook waving you over, you walked up to the grinning brunet with a playful sigh. “Yes, trouble?” you asked. He rolled his eyes at the newfound nickname. “I was thinking… How about a movie night tonight? I think we’re overdue for one.” he suggested. You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “You mean a repeat of last time? Because unless my memory is failing me, that was an absolute disaster.”
"Yeah, well, this time will be different. After our talk last night, I'm hoping we both have a better understanding of our feelings," he said, taking your hand in his. You tilted your head, biting the inside of your cheek. Even if you did want to give in to his movie night plan, you couldn't. You already had plans with a certain black haired man tonight.
"You know, I'd love to, but I already made plans with Mina tonight,” you lied, offering a convincing smile. "She wants us to have a whole girls' night in. Makeup, nails, talking about our relationships. The whole works."
Jungkook pouted. "First the fair, now a girls' night? I'm beginning to think Mina is stealing my girl." He joked.
You giggled, rolling your eyes at the brunet. "Don't be so dramatic," you said. "We always have tomorrow night."
“Fine,” Jungkook relented, tossing a look of fake defeat your way. “I didn't wanna watch your cheesy movies tonight anyway.”
You gasped, slapping a hand over your heart as if deeply offended. “You love my cheesy movies.”
"No, I love you. There's a difference," Jungkook said.
The words hung heavily in the air between you, and you instantly froze. The words echoed in your mind, catching you entirely off guard. Jungkook had never confessed his feelings so plainly before. You had a lifetime of history together as best friends, but hearing him say those words out loud changed everything in an instant. You stared at him, speechless. Realizing exactly what he had just admitted, Jungkook's eyes widened, and a dark blush rapidly overtook his face.
"S-so tomorrow night?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he scratched the nape of his neck in pure embarrassment.
"Uh-yeah... yeah... see you tomorrow night," you stuttered, your voice trailing off.
You had absolutely no idea how to respond, and your only saving grace was a nearby customer waving you over to request their bill. Seizing the lifeline, you quickly retreated to their table and left Jungkook alone with his thoughts. The moment your back was turned, the brunet squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his hands as he cussed quietly to himself.
You grabbed the customer's card from the table and turned to go swipe it at the kiosk, but before you could move any further, you noticed Yoongi and Joon preparing to leave. You furrowed your brows; Joon's food hadn't even been served yet. "Um... hello? Did you forget you ordered food?" you questioned the lanky man as they walked past you.
Yoongi didn't say a word, his expression unreadable as he moved toward the exit.
"I think I'll pass on the ramen, Wonder Woman. The atmosphere in this joint kinda makes me sick," Joon said.
You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue as you watched them head for the door, but they didn't leave without throwing one last vicious glare at Jungkook. Jungkook, of course, glared right back.
"See ya around, chief," Joon scowled in his direction before they finally walked out into the street.
You hadn’t received a single text from Yoongi by the time your shift ended. You had been entirely certain the raven would be eagerly waiting the exact second you clocked out, but an hour had already passed since you’d been off. Trying to shake the growing unease, you showered and slipped into a cute little floral dress. It was a stark contrast to the workout outfit you had worn to that first so called “kickback”.
You sighed, staring down at your blank phone screen. Still, there was no call, no text. What was his issue? One minute he’s telling you how he wants to see you whenever he can, and now he was acting like he couldn't care less about the plans he had made. He couldn't possibly be upset about Jungkook, could he? How childish if he was.
A soft knock suddenly sounded at your front door.
‘Finally,’ you thought, a wave of relief washing over you. ‘Took him long enough.’
You walked into the living room and peeked through the peephole. You were fully expecting to see a familiar mess of long, dark hair, but instead, your neighbor, Hoseok, stood on the other side. You hadn't seen much of him since you found out about his history with Yoongi. Pushing down your surprise, you opened the door and greeted him. "Hoseok, hey," you smiled.
Hoseok returned the small smile, but his expression remained entirely serious. "Hey, y/n. Do you mind if I come in?" He asks. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward your bedroom where your phone sat in total silence, almost as if Yoongi might choose this exact second to call you."It won't take too long," Hoseok assured you, his voice gentle but firm, as if he had read your mind completely.
You nodded, opening the door wider for him to enter your apartment before closing it behind him. Hoseok stood there in the entryway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. You had never seen him look so serious; it was actually a little scary. Whenever you ran into him around the building, Hoseok always had a bright smile on his face. Seeing Yoongi that night really seemed to have shattered his entire personality.
“So, how do you know Yoongi?" Hoseok asked abruptly.
"Uh.." You recounted the moment you had first met the raven, remembering how close you had been to stabbing Joon with a pair of chopsticks until Yoongi intervened. "I met him at my job not long ago." You rubbed your arm awkwardly, completely refusing to go into full detail.
"Do you owe him money or something? Are you safe? Is he forcing you to sleep with him?"
He was completely overwhelming you with the sudden barrage of questions. You shook your head quickly, cutting him off before he could say anything else. "Hoseok, no. I don't owe him money, and I'm fine. Yoongi and I are acquaintances, just like I told you last time. That's all."
He furrowed his eyebrows deeply. "That's all? Y/n, you're a sweet girl. I've lived across the hall from you long enough to know that. Why would you ever get into the mix with the likes of him? Do you know who he is? What he does? What he's done to people? Yoongi is dangerous."
"And you know that firsthand, don't you?" you snapped.
Hoseok froze.
"Yeah, I know you used to work for Yoongi. He told me," you continued, crossing your arms. "I also know you two were friends."
Hoseok clenched his jaw, the silence stretching tight between you. "Yeah, we were. Me, Yoongi, and Joon. We grew up together, started this shit together. But Yoongi got dark. Got money hungry. Wanted to be something more powerful. Now he's a monster... maybe he'd always been a monster deep down." Hoseok's voice trailed off, his eyes clouding over as his mind reminisced about a past he had tried so hard to leave behind. About the friend he once had.
"You said you grew up with Joon too," you countered. "He's shown me he's more of a monster than Yoongi, yet you hold more disdain for Yoongi. Why?" When you had first met Joon, he was ready to attack an old couple just for a restaurant table, and then he had turned on you for standing up to him.
Hoseok scoffed. "Because I expected this from Joon. Maybe not to this extent, but Joon was always troubled. He only started hanging out with us after Yoongi met him in juvie. And Yoongi didn't truly start getting into trouble until his parents died. He was a little shit back then, sure, but definitely not the cold hearted monster he is now."
You remembered the raven mentioning his parents to you. How they had died in a house fire after his drunk of a father left a stove burning.
You sighed. None of this truly answered why Hoseok was so fearful of Yoongi now. They had started their empire together, so Hoseok clearly hadn't had any qualms about the lifestyle back then. Why the sudden change? Curiosity burned in your chest, and you opened your mouth to ask, but before you could, your phone started to ring from the other room.
You rushed to your bedroom, snatching the device off the bed. It was Yoongi. "Is that him?" Hoseok called out from the living room. Ignoring his question, you swiped the screen and brought the phone to your ear. "Hello?"
"I'm outside. Come down, and don't take too long," the raven demanded, his tone clipped. He hung up before you could even draw a breath to reply. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, pulling the phone away from your ear. "Listen, Hoseok, I can't sit here and talk about this right now. I have to go," you said, grabbing your purse off the nightstand.
"That was him, wasn't it?" he asked again, stepping toward your bedroom doorway. You offered no answer. "Look, I know I'm just your neighbor, and I can't tell you what to do, but I don't think you should keep hanging around him."
You shook your head, completely unready to process his warnings right now, but he remained persistent.
"Why do you care so much about what I do?" you retorted, eyeing the brunet. "Why do you care if I hang out with Yoongi?"
"Because you remind me of her."
You furrowed your eyebrows. "Of her? Who's her?" Hoseok's eyes began to water, a raw pain breaking through his serious facade. "The only woman I've ever loved. She's gone... because of him. He took her just to get back at me, and he got away with it."
"What? What do you mean?"
Before Hoseok could answer, your phone buzzed violently in your hand. It was a text from Yoongi, undoubtedly urging you to hurry the hell up. "I have to go." You muttered, deliberately putting the terrifying conversation aside. You walked out to the entryway and opened your apartment door, gesturing for Hoseok to leave first.
He exited into the dimly lit corridor, but he didn't head toward his own apartment. Instead, he stood out in the hallway, his sorrowful eyes heavy upon you as you locked your door. He stared at you like this was going to be his last time seeing you. “Later, Hoseok.” You say, quickly disappearing down your hall.
The cool outside breeze brushed against your bare skin the moment you stepped out of the building. You immediately recognized Yoongi's old car parked at the curb instead of the sleek red one you two had ridden to the fair in. Walking around the hood, you opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat.
"Took you long enough," the raven grumbled, not even looking at you as he shifted into drive. "I don't have the patience to be kept waiting."
You grimaced at his sour attitude. The absolute nerve of him to complain about a few minutes when he had just kept you waiting for a full hour. You pulled your seatbelt across your chest and buckled it in, and the car instantly surged forward into the night. Silently, you side eyed him, taking in his outfit. He wore a simple black hoodie with dark jeans, a chain clipped to his belt loops. He was a man who clearly adored his silver; another chain hung around his neck, and a couple of silver rings on his fingers. His long, dark hair was artfully messy, framing his face.
You had been expecting the raven to compliment your dress, as he usually never missed an opportunity to praise your appearance, but he stayed entirely silent, keeping his eyes glued to the dark road. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. It was weird not hearing Yoongi speak to you. Usually, you were the one giving him the silent treatment. Clearly, he was in a mood, so you opted against mentioning a single word of what Hoseok had just told you. Though curiosity was burning a hole in your chest, you didn’t want to piss him off any further.
Still, you decided to break the silence anyway, completely detesting the suffocating quiet inside the car. “What were you up to that took you so long?” you asked.
He looked over at you, a single sharp eyebrow raised, before turning right back toward the road without offering a word.
“Okay, don’t tell me then,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, turning your back to him to stare out the passenger window. Usually, the raven would have finally broken down and said something sarcastic by now, but instead, he simply reached forward and flicked on the radio.
You whipped your head around in total shock.
“Okay,” you started, your hand immediately darting out to slap the radio knob off. “What's your deal right now? You invited me to this stupid kickback, but now you’re acting like you wish I weren’t even here. I blew off a movie night with Jungkook to come out for you, but if you’re gonna be an asshole, then just take me home.”
Yoongi finally looked over at you, his sharp gaze cutting through the dim light of the car. “You blew off your little boyfriend to be with me?”
You nodded, suddenly finding your fingernails incredibly interesting. "I mean, you asked me first. I didn't want to blow you off after saying I'd come."
Yoongi smirked slightly, nodding his head as he looked back at the road. It was as if your words were a sort of confirmation for him. Suddenly, the atmosphere inside the car didn't feel so suffocating anymore. "You look good in that dress." The raven said.
You bit your bottom lip, turning away slightly in a desperate attempt to hide your smile.
The car pulled up to the warehouse that you'd come to know so well since getting involved with Yoongi. You noticed that, unlike last time, there weren't any people hanging out outside. No girls dressed in little to no clothing. No one smoking by the entrance. It was noticeably different from the last time.
"Am I gonna go upstairs and see a bunch of people in there?" you asked the raven, peeking out the window.
He snickered, turning off the ignition. "It's just Joon, some of my guys, and whatever bitches they brought. Just like I told you yesterday. Don't worry, sweetheart. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” He assures you, leaning back in his seat.
"I wish you wouldn't call women 'bitches," you said, a look of dismay crossing your features.
"My apologies, princess. I'll rephrase that; whatever whores they brought." The raven smirked, leaning across the console to catch your eye. "That better for you?"
You rolled your eyes, pushing your door open to climb out into the cool night air. Yoongi follows suit. The two of you walk up the stairs to the metal door, your mind flashing to when Yoongi had pushed you against it to give you a speech about how you speak to him. He pulls open the door, letting you walk ahead. You hear laughter and music as you walk up the stairs, and the smell of weed wafts your senses. As you reach the main room, you’re amazed by how much different it looks without the load of people blocking every which way.
"Wonder Woman, you came through again!" Joon shouted, raising a solo cup high in his hand.
He was sitting amongst the two guys you recognized from last time, along with two others you hadn't seen before. Each of them had a girl sitting either on their lap or squeezed next to them on the couch. You noticed Sana sitting among the group, though she didn't appear to be there with any specific guy. Her sharp eyes locked onto you the exact moment you walked in with Yoongi.
‘Oh great, she's here…’ you thought dreadfully. This was going to be an absolute blast.
Yoongi walked toward an empty space on the couch, dropping down and patting the cushion right next to him. You sat down beside him, deliberately avoiding Sana's gaze as she continued to stare you down. "Here, have a sip." Joon passed you his cup.
You took it, looking down at the clear alcoholic beverage sloshing inside. "What's this?" you asked him.
"It's tequila."
"Yeah, your favorite. Remember?" Sana asked from across the room, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she clearly referenced the night you had gotten drunk and danced right here in this very room.
You eyed the bitter woman, refusing to let her get under your skin. Without a word, you tipped your head back and downed the drink. The harsh liquor burned the back of your throat as it went down, but you didn't let your expression falter.
Joon hooted loudly, cheering your compliance as you handed him back the empty cup. "Oh, Y/n, you're my kind of woman, doll," Joon laughed.
"Yeah, she surely is somethin", the raven said, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind you. You noticed them passing a blunt around the circle. Once Joon took a couple of hits, he offered it directly to you. You shook your head quickly, gesturing for him to pass it to Yoongi instead.
"Oh, c’mon, it's just weed," Joon insisted, still holding it out. “It ain’t gonna kill you.”
"That's fine. I've just never smoked it before," you said awkwardly, suddenly feeling like a complete amateur sitting in a room full of seasoned drug dealers and users.
"Of course you haven't. You're too much of a goody-goody," Sana remarked. The other girls cracked up, making a sudden wave of heat creep up your neck.
"Nothing wrong with being a good girl. A lot of us men admire that," Yoongi smirked, stepping in as he took the blunt from Joon's fingers. "Leaves room for corruption."
"I'm just scared of how it'll make me feel, that’s all." You admitted softly.
"It's like alcohol, but a different type of intoxication. Here, I'll help you." The raven shifted his weight, leaning in close as he took a long drag. Holding the smoke trapped in his lungs, he gestured with his free hand for you to move closer. You hesitated for a heartbeat, your breath catching, before leaning forward slowly. Yoongi stopped when he was mere inches away from your face, his dark gaze locking onto your mouth before he began to exhale the smoke, breathing it out little by little. Though you were skeptical, you leaned in the final inch, inhaling the gray smoke as it retreated past his lips.
A harsh cough ripped from your throat the second the smoke hit the back of your sensitive lungs. Yoongi moved back just a fraction, a lazy, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he took in your reaction. "See?" he smirked, his voice dropping an octave. "Corrupting you already."
You stared at the raven, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. The two of you locked eyes, completely forgetting that there was an entire group of people watching your every move.
"Alright, alright, get a room already," Joon teased, breaking the spell you were in.
Yoongi kept his eyes firmly on you, entirely unfazed by the audience. "I wouldn't mind getting a room," he said, slowly running his tongue over his bottom lip. You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling the raven's free hand begin to roam up your exposed thigh.
You quickly stood to your feet, breaking the contact before he could go any further. "Um, I think I could use another drink. I'm assuming the bottle is in the kitchen?" you asked, pointing toward the doorway and letting out an awkward, nervous laugh.
Yoongi simply nodded, his grin turning cocky at your sudden fluster, clearly overjoyed at being the sole cause of it. You quickly shuffled away and escaped into the kitchen, feeling the anxious tightness in your chest finally begin to disperse the moment you were separated from the heavy atmosphere of the group.
Once your heartbeat finally settled, you grabbed an empty solo cup from the counter. Your eyes scanned the kitchen, landing on a bottle of Don Julio. You grabbed it, pulling the cork out with a sharp pop.
"You and Yoongi look super cozy together." The sudden voice startled you. You turned around to see Sana standing in the entryway, her arms crossed tight over her chest.
"So?" you said, turning your back to her again to pour the tequila into your cup.
"So, I thought you were very adamant about not being into him. Remember?"
You whipped back around to face her. "I'm not," you snapped, your tone sharp. "He just invited me, so I came. That's it."
It was a bold faced lie; anyone in that room could feel the electric tension between you and the raven. You tried your best to hide it, but then he went and pulled stunts like he just did on the couch, and all your defenses came crashing down. You were attracted to Yoongi. That was a fact you could no longer deny to yourself. But deep down, you knew nothing could ever come of it. You were with Jungkook.
You just hated that you had to keep reminding yourself of that.
“You can say whatever you want, convince yourself of whatever you need, but you can’t convince me,” Sana snarled, her voice dropping to a harsh, mocking tone. “I mean, I don’t blame you. He’s Min Yoongi. Out of all those guys sitting out there, he has a presence that no woman can resist. Clearly not even you, Miss Goody-Goody. I honestly can’t wait to say I told you so.”
With one last judgmental look, she turned on her heel and swept out of the entryway, leaving you completely alone in the quiet kitchen. You quickly downed the burning liquid in your cup, letting it sear your throat as you emptied every last drop before immediately pouring yourself another one. Just as the liquor splashed into the bottom of the solo cup, you heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. You turned slightly, watching the raven slide effortlessly into the kitchen.
"Slow down there, lightweight," he teased, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in the sight of the bottle in your hand. "I don't need you blacking out here."
You glared at him, throwing back the second drink before slamming the cup down onto the counter. "I'm ready to leave."
"What?" The raven raised an eyebrow, his lazy grin instantly vanishing. "We just got here," he stated, pointing out the obvious.
"Yeah, well, I'm not feeling quite like a people person tonight," you muttered, your mind in a million different places. First, there was Jungkook saying he loved you. Then, Hoseok's chilling warning. And now Sana with her crazy jealousy, clearly nowhere near over her past with Yoongi. It was all too much. You’d rather just have been alone to process everything, but Yoongi remained persistent about you staying.
“You don’t have to be. It won’t be too long before the guys dip out to get their nut off,” the raven said, his slow grin returning. He stepped a fraction closer to you, tilting his head to catch your eyes. “Then it’ll just be me and you… unless I’m included in your desire to not be around people right now?”
Naturally, you didn’t mind being around just Yoongi. He was the sole reason you had even come in the first place. But there was always a stubborn moral compass ringing inside your head, reminding you that any feelings you harbored toward the raven were wrong; a complete betrayal not only to Jungkook, but to Mina, too.
Yoongi literally sold coke to Mina's boyfriend, ruthlessly using him as one of his drug mules. Not to mention the terrifying reality that Yoongi had probably killed people, whether indirectly or by his own hands. Though, you weren't entirely sure how true that part actually was. A drug dealer? That fact was completely undeniable. But a killer? Could Yoongi truly be capable of murder? The man you had seen at the fair, the one who had looked at you with soft eyes, and shared a deep moment with you, couldn't possibly be a monster.
“Well, what about Sana?” you asked suddenly.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes narrowing slightly at the random mention of Sana. “What the fuck about her?”
"She's here. Why don't you just have her keep you company?" you scowled, turning back around to pour another drink. But before you could even pop the cork out, Yoongi snatched the bottle completely out of your hand. He didn't say a word at first, his eyes locking onto yours as he deliberately set the bottle down on the counter behind him, clearing the distraction out of the way.
“Is that where this little attitude is coming from? Sana? I thought I told you I only fucked her once.”
"I don't care how many times you did. It's none of my business," you lied, keeping your voice tight as you tried to save face. "I just thought I'd make it clear that you have other options and don't need me here."
The raven stared at you for a moment.
"When are you gonna stop pretending there's nothing here and just give in to me?" Yoongi asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur as he took another step toward you. You instinctively tried to back away from him, but the hard edge of the counter pressed against your lower back, leaving you with absolutely no space left to move.
"B-because there isn't.." you stuttered, the denial tasting like ash on your tongue.
Yoongi closed the remaining distance between you two, his hands coming down to rest on the counter on either side of your hips. You were completely sandwiched between the raven and the cold marble surface. Your heart thumped frantically against your ribs as he began to lean down toward your lips, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "There isn't?" he questioned, his breath fanning across your skin.
"Yo, Honcho–" Joon’s voice cut through the air as he popped his head through the entryway of the kitchen. He froze for a fraction of a second, taking in the sight of the two of you trapped in each other's space, before the corner of his lips pulled into a knowing smirk. “I always seem to pop in on you two at the craziest times,” he teased.
"What is it, Joon?" Yoongi's voice was rough, dripping with irritation at his second in command as he turned his head slightly to look at him, though his hands never left the counter, keeping you securely pinned.
"Me and the guys are gonna dip and handle our due diligence," Joon said, flashing a quick wink. It didn't take a scientist to figure out what he meant. It was exactly what Yoongi had predicted just minutes ago; they were heading out to get their nut off.
Yoongi nodded, but his full, dark attention immediately snapped back to you. "Is Sana still here?" he asked Joon, his eyes tracking the way your chest rose and fell.
"Yeah, she is. Why, what's up?"
"Send the bitch on her way," Yoongi said coldly.
"Say less," Joon complied, stepping backward out of the kitchen and leaving you and the raven completely alone once again.
You could hear his retreating footsteps heading back to the living room, followed shortly by the distant, muffled sound of him telling Sana it was time to go. "There. Problem solved, sweetheart," Yoongi said, finally taking a single step back from you, though his dark gaze never wavered. The raven reached over and grabbed the bottle of Don Julio, shaking it slightly in the air as a lazy smirk crept back onto his face. "Now it's just you and me. So, how about we drink and have a kickback of our own?"
"Then I tried to hop over the fence and my shirt got caught," Yoongi smirked, tucking a stray strand of his dark hair behind his ear as he recounted the first time he went to juvie.
The two of you were easily ten shots in by now, having moved the bottle from the kitchen to the living room couch. You were completely enveloped in a rare state of security. You sat comfortably against the cushions with your shoes discarded on the floor, your legs curled up tightly under you. Yoongi sat close beside you, leaning forward over his knees as he flicked a lighter to life, igniting another blunt.
You giggled at the raven's story, shaking your head. "Why didn't you just try to slip the shirt off?" you asked him.
"I was running for like thirty minutes trying to get away. At that point, I was too tired. I just said fuck it, take me," he chuckled. He shoved the lighter back into his sweatshirt pocket before taking a few deep puffs of the blunt, the tip glowing a dull orange in the dim room. "Anyway, shit happens for a reason. I wouldn't have met Joon if I didn't get caught that day."
Hearing him say it out loud made a piece of the puzzle click. You silently recalled Hoseok mentioning earlier that night that Yoongi and Joon had first crossed paths in juvie. You wanted to bring up Hoseok's crazy ramblings to Yoongi, but you decided it was best not to. Not now, at least. Not when the vibe between you was so perfectly calm and natural.
Yoongi looked over at you, extending his hand with the blunt pinched tightly between his index finger and thumb. "You wanna hit this?" he asked. You looked down at the brown wrap. You hesitated for a split second, but ultimately took the blunt from his fingers, your skin brushing against his.
Putting it to your lips, you took a few light, careful puffs, still too afraid to take massive hits the way Yoongi did. The raven smiled, his dark eyes watching you intensely, as if he expected you to choke if he wasn't being vigilant. "Thatta girl, princess. Shotgunned off of me once and now I got you smoking like a pro," he said proudly, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. You exhaled the smoke, then handed the blunt back to the raven.
"Don't get used to me doing that. I'm just enjoying the moment," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.
Yoongi shrugged, taking another slow hit from the blunt. "I'm proud either way, angel," he said.
You stiffened slightly at the nickname. You had never heard Yoongi call you that before. It was a term of endearment that belonged entirely to Jungkook. He used it all the time. Suddenly, your mind was flooded with the memory of Jungkook slipping up and saying he loved you at work earlier today, and a crushing wave of guilt washed over your chest. Here you were, hiding away and getting high with Yoongi, while Jungkook mindlessly believed you were just hanging out with Mina right now.
Yoongi's sharp eyes immediately noticed the shift, catching the exact moment you zoned out and went miles away. "You good?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied your face. You debated on whether or not you should tell him what Jungkook had said today. Would he even care?
"Um... Jungkook said he loved me today." You looked over at the raven, your eyes searching his face to read his expression.
Yoongi ran his fingers through his dark hair, nodding his head slowly as if absorbing the news without letting it shake him. "And then what?" he asked, his voice steady as he waited for you to continue further.
"And then... nothing," you shrugged, the weight of the confession making your shoulders feel heavy. "I said nothing when he said it. I feel so horrible." You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face to shield yourself from the quiet of the room. You cared about Jungkook deeply; you had been best friends for years, and you had harbored feelings for him long before the two of you finally decided to date and test the waters. But these past few days, everything has felt entirely off between you two.
You felt... bored.
"You don't love him," Yoongi stated, his voice flat and certain, as if he personally knew your own feelings and heart better than you did.
You furrowed your eyebrows at him, your chest tightening defensively. "What?"
"You don't love him," he casually repeated. He reached over to grab an empty Solo cup from the coffee table, dropping the butt of the blunt inside.
"And how the hell would you know how I feel?" you shot back, trying to summon enough anger to mask the panic rising in your throat.
"Because you're here with me," Yoongi said, leaning back against the cushions and pinning you with an intense look. "You turned down a movie night with him to spend time with me. That alone should tell you something."
You opened your mouth to defend your actions, but the words died in your throat. You couldn't. You were here with Yoongi, and the bitter, undeniable truth was that you didn't regret the decision at all.
You were genuinely enjoying these casual conversations with him. Ever since the Daegu fair, the raven had become entirely humanized in your eyes. Even though he sold drugs and carried a dangerous, mean streak to his name, you liked him.
You liked Yoongi.
The silence in the living room stretched between you, heavy and thick with the smell of smoke, as his words settled deep into your chest. Yoongi just tracked the movement of your lips, waiting, knowing he had trapped you in a corner where lies couldn't save you. So you didn’t attempt it.
You casually looked around, admiring the decor of the warehouse and searching for absolutely anything to change the suffocating topic. Your eyes landed on an all black acoustic guitar hanging neatly on the wall right next to the loft stairs. "That's a cool guitar," you said, motioning toward it.
Yoongi pulled his gaze away from you, tracking your movement until his eyes landed on the instrument. "That's my baby right there. My mom bought it for me when I was twelve," he said, a genuine, soft smile tugging at his lips at the memory of his mother.
"You play?" you questioned, a little surprised. "I thought it was just for decoration."
"Don't insult me, sweetheart. I don't do things just for the look," he rumbled playfully. He stood up from the cushions, walking over to retrieve the guitar from its mount before coming back to sit down on the couch right beside you. Yoongi began to tune the guitar, his long fingers adjusting the pegs with practiced ease. You were completely surprised he could even function with all the alcohol and weed running through his system, but the substances didn't seem to phase him even a little bit.
The raven strummed the strings to see if the tune was to his liking, the chords ringing out deep and crisp into the high ceilings of the warehouse. Then, his fingers shifted, and he began to play.
You watched him intently. He looked completely relaxed, his dark eyes focused on the fretboard as he plucked out an all too familiar melody—one that immediately made your chest tighten and your heart feel incredibly massive.
Knocking on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan.
That was your dad's favorite song.
You hadn't heard the song in so long, having avoided it at all costs ever since your parents died. Yet, here Yoongi was playing it, handling the notes as though he could read your heart like an open book. The raven looked up at you, his fingers never missing a single strum despite his eyes locking onto yours. You felt a single tear escape and slip down your cheek. A quiet movement that didn't go unnoticed by him.
Yoongi immediately stopped playing, flattening his palm over the strings to kill the vibration. "You okay? I didn't mean to make you emotional," he murmured, his voice dropping into something genuinely gentle.
You shook your head, sniffing softly as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. "No, you're fine. It's just... that song you played. It reminded me of my dad, that's all. That was his favorite song," you informed him, your voice cracking slightly on the words.
A wave of sympathy softened his sharp features. He carefully set the black guitar down onto the floor, completely discarding it to move closer to you on the cushions. Reaching out, the raven gently brushed the pad of his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the stray tear. “You’re too pretty to cry,” he whispered, his thumb lingering against your skin.
Min Yoongi.
When you first met him, those eyes made you shiver. They were scary, cold, and lifeless; the devil's eyes.
Now, those exact same eyes were looking at you like you were something so precious, something so breakable that he wanted to protect you from any further damage.
The raven's lips inched closer to yours. You followed suit, your breath hitching as your eyes fluttered closed, waiting to finally feel the soft pressure of his lips against yours. When his lips finally do meet yours, it wasn’t the harsh, reckless collision you might have expected from someone like Yoongi. It was soft, slow, and desperately tender. A quiet reassurance that sent a tingle straight down your spine. The faint taste of tequila and smoke lingered between you, blurring the edges of the room until nothing else existed but the warmth of his mouth against yours.
Yoongi’s hand slid from your cheek, his long fingers gently gripping the back of your neck to hold you steady, deepening the kiss with a low, heavy breath. You melted into him, your hands finding themselves on the soft fabric of his sweatshirt as you pulled yourself closer.
Every ounce of guilt, every lingering warning from Hoseok, and the ghost of Jungkook’s confession from earlier today were entirely washed away in the dark, quiet haze of the warehouse.
You found yourself slowly being pushed backward onto the plush cushions of the couch, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs as Yoongi settled his body over yours, positioning himself flush between your legs.
Yoongi didn't break the kiss for a single second. Instead, his mouth grew hungrier, more possessive, tracing the seam of your lips as his hands left your neck to slide down to your waist, his grip firm and steady as he anchored you to the cushions beneath him. The contrast of his heavy frame pinning you down while treating you like something entirely precious made your breath hitch against his lips, your fingers tightening into the fabric of his sweatshirt to pull him even closer.
The sudden loss of his warmth made you gasp softly as Yoongi pulled his lips away from yours. He remained settled heavily between your legs, his dark eyes locked onto you as he crossed his arms and pulled his sweatshirt over his head in one fluid motion. The silver chain around his neck clanked in the quiet room before settling against his collarbone.
He tossed the discarded sweatshirt onto the floor, leaving him in just a plain white tee. Yoongi paused for a second, his chest rising and falling with hefty breaths as he used a hand to push his messy dark locks back out of his face. The intense, protective gaze was still burning in his eyes, but now it was laced with an undeniable hunger. Leaning back forward, he closed the distance between you once again, crashing his lips back onto yours with a newfound fervor that completely stole the air from your lungs.
The raven rolled his hips against you, the sudden, friction filled pressure making a soft whimper escape your lips. His large hands held your waist securely to the cushions before he pulled his lips away once more, all the while still grinding slowly against you.
"I promise to be gentle with you if you let me," he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. His hands slid up your sides, the rough texture of his palms catching against the fabric as he began to lift your dress further. A sudden wave of nerves crashed over you at the thought, making your chest tighten. You wanted him. You desperately wanted this, but the guilt was a massive wall standing right in the way.
You had always assumed you would lose your virginity to Jungkook. It was supposed to be safe, familiar, and organically planned. But Jungkook wasn't here.
Yoongi was.
He was right here, hovering over you with a patient hunger, waiting for the words that would change everything between you two.
"Y-Yoongi, we can't. I'm with Jungko-"
The raven clamped a hand over your mouth, stopping you from finishing his name. "I don't wanna hear his fucking name right now," he growled. His hips were still grinding into you, but his pace picked up, the sudden intensity making your breath hitch beneath his palm.
The consistent, heavy motion made your panties rub against your clit, sending a tingle straight down your spine. Yoongi slowly pulled his hand away from your lips, his dark eyes burning down into yours with an absolute, possessive gravity. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop," he said, his voice a low command.
You didn't offer the raven any words, just a breathless moan that tore from your throat. A sound that was absolute music to his ears. He smirked down at how needy you looked underneath him, his ego flaring at his total control over you. How could you possibly pretend to not want this when you were coming apart already, and he hadn't even been inside of you yet?
"From the looks of it, you're so deprived that all it’Il take right now is dry fucking for you to cum," he rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, filthy purr that made your stomach completely flip. You couldn't deny it; this simple action really could be enough to cause an orgasm, but deep down, you wanted to go the extra mile with him. "Do it," you whined, your hips blindly tracking his movement as you completely lost your grip on your restraint. "J-Just do it."
That was all Yoongi needed to hear. He stopped grinding into you, pulling back to undo his jeans. He didn't take them fully off, opting instead to pull them down just enough for his hard cock to spring free from his Celine boxers. Your eyes widened slightly, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you took in the full size and length of him. He was much bigger than you had expected him to be; it was no wonder Sana had a hard time getting over him after their one night stand.
The raven hooked his fingers into the hem of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them onto the floor right next to his sweatshirt. Your dress was still bunched up around your waist, leaving you completely exposed beneath him now. You instinctively tried to close your legs to hide yourself, but with his weight still settled right between your thighs, you couldn't move.
The raven smirked down at your failed attempt to hide, his thighs easily pulling yours further apart, refusing to let you close yourself off. But as he looked down, tracking the panicked rise and fall of your chest and the way you squeezed your eyes shut tight, the smug look vanished. Seeing how scared you were dragged him back to reality, reminding him exactly what this was for you.
Your first time.
The thought alone sent a possessive rush in his veins. You weren’t like the other women he had fucked, then passed around to his crew. You were pure. Untouched. Untainted. Your walls had never been broken, and knowing he was the very first to claim you made him want to lose all control, to pin you down and slam his dick straight into you. But he fought the urge back. He was willing to take this slow. He was willing to be gentle, just like he promised. He wasn't going to force his way in. Not yet.
"Relax for me," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low purr. Bypassing his cock for now, Yoongi reached down, his long fingers finding your slick, dripping heat. He pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit, making you gasp, before he slowly slid a single finger inside of you.
The feeling of his hot skin sliding into you sent an intense, unravelling ache straight to your core. Your inner walls clenched down around him, instantly tight and resistant to the sudden intrusion. Yoongi hissed softly at the brutal friction, the muscle in his jaw feathering as he held himself still. He didn't pull back; instead, he kept his finger buried deep inside you to let your body adapt, while the pad of his thumb began working in small, agonizingly slow circles to coax you open.
A mixture of pain and pleasure flooded your senses. You had never actually inserted anything inside of yourself before, only ever rubbing your clit when you were alone and horny, so this deep, stretching was completely overwhelming. The intensity of the feeling made it impossible to listen to his voice, let alone try to relax.
"Look at me," Yoongi growled, his voice dropping into a rough command as he noticed your breathing hitch. He pressed his thumb a little firmer against your clit, trying to ground you through the sensory overload. "I know it hurts a little, but you need to breathe for me. Let it slip in and out."
Your eyes flutter open upon his command as you try to breathe as told. Slowly, he began to curl his finger inside you, testing your limits and forcing your tight depths to widen for him. The sudden internal hook against your walls completely shattered your concentration, dragging a high, helpless whine from your throat. Your back arched slightly off the couch cushions, your hands clawing blindly into the fabric beside your head as your muscles instinctively clamped down once more around his finger.
Yoongi hissed again through his teeth, his knuckles turning white where his hand rested against the armrest behind your head. The crushing grip of your body around his finger was testing the absolute limits of his control, but he didn't back off. Instead, his gaze darkened with a relentless dominance. "I told you to breathe," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, rough and completely devoid of room for negotiation.
He leaned more of his weight over you, his lean frame crowding you down and effectively trapping you flat against the cushions. His free hand moved from the armrest to slide up the side of your neck, his thumb bracing firmly under your jaw to tilt your face up. He didn't hurt you, but the grip was ironclad, forcing your eyes right back to his.
With you completely pinned beneath him, the pad of his thumb pressed down hard against your swollen clit, no longer stroking in gentle circles, but applying a heavy, flattening pressure that sent a sudden ache straight through your pelvis. He held it there, demanding your total submission.
"Stop fighting it," he commanded, his eyes burning into yours as he tilted his finger a fraction deeper against your tight walls. "If you can’t take one finger, how’re you supposed to take this dick, huh?” His grip tightens slightly on the side of your neck. “Huh?” he repeated, demanding your answer.
“I-I’m sorry…” you stammered, embarrassment flooding your chest as the weight of his standards settled heavily over you.
Yoongi shook his head at your apology. “Don’t apologize to me, babygirl. Just take it.”
The pet name hits you like a physical shock, melting through the sharp sting of the entrance and sending a completely different kind of heat pooling between your thighs. Hearing him call you that while his frame pinned you to the couch cushions made your heart hammer against your chest. Your fingers twitched against the fabric beside your head, your body instinctively wanting to soften under the sudden warmth of his praise, even as the fullness of his finger remained buried deep inside you, awaiting your compliance.
Your breathing finally began to stutter out in a long, trembling exhale, your chest sinking as you forced yourself to yield to his command. The tense, defensive coil in your hips slowly dissolved into the cushions, allowing the walls of your core to soften and untangle around his finger.
Yoongi watched the change happen in real time, his eyes tracking the exact moment the panic left your expression and your body opened up for him. A low, approving rumble vibrated deep in his chest as the tight friction around his hand gave way to an accommodating heat. "Good girl." he murmured, his voice dropping a quiet praise that made your stomach flutter.
The raven didn't hesitate. Seizing the moment your body relaxed, he slid his thumb out from under your jaw and used his free hand to firmly spread your legs a little wider, anchoring you in place. With a smooth shift of his knuckles, he aligned a second finger against your opening and pushed it straight inside, pairing it alongside the first before immediately driving them deep.
The sudden, thick invasion turned into a heavy, rhythmic thrusting that completely took your breath away. He set a demanding pace right from the start, his wrist moving with practiced precision as his fingers slid all the way in and pulled back just enough to drive right back into your heat. A choked gasp caught in your throat as the friction of two fingers moving deep inside of you stretched your newly softened depths to their absolute limit, the steady, relentless tempo turning the initial ache into an overwhelming fullness.
“Oh fuck–” you cried, your hand mindlessly reaching out to try to grab at his wrist to stop him, but Yoongi smacked it away before you could.
“Don’t touch me,” he growled, the sharp reprimand cutting right through your haze as his fingers kept up their relentless rhythm inside you. Your hand dropped back onto the cushion, your fingers twitching helplessly against the fabric as the pace he was driving into you completely shattered your defenses. Yoongi didn't look down; his dark eyes stayed locked on your face, watching the way your lips parted and your chest heaved with every deep, sliding stroke of his hand.
The slick stretch of two fingers moving in such a demanding, unbothered tempo was turning your embarrassment into a pure, frantic need. He was stretching you out completely, filling you so thoroughly that every push of his wrist sent a hot wave of pressure straight through your hips, forcing you to take every bit of the pace he set.
The relentless, deep pace he was driving into you was rapidly breaking your body down, forcing a thick moisture to coat his skin. Within moments, the fullness of his two fingers began to pump your arousal out, the glossy wetness overflowing your tight opening until it completely drenched his fingers and smeared across the back of his hand.
Yoongi let out a low, gritty sound at the wet squelch of his movements echoing in the quiet room as his knuckles repeatedly pressed against your drenched entrance. The messy, excessive warmth of your own body coating his hand only seemed to make him get rougher, using your own lubrication to drive his fingers even deeper, thoroughly stretching you out until you were dripping against his skin with every single stroke.
The raven’s dark eyes narrowed as he tracked the erratic shudder of your chest, his fingers still ruthlessly working inside you to draw out every drop of your wetness. The sight of you completely undone, trembling on the verge of a breakdown, stripped away the last of his patience.
He abruptly stopped the rhythm, leaving his fingers buried deep and perfectly still inside your swollen depths. The sudden lack of movement was an absolute tease, leaving you stranded on the very edge of a cliff.
He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he forced his weight heavily over you.“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demanded, his voice a deep command that left no room for hesitation. “Say it.”
A high, dire whine broke from your throat at the sudden agonizing stillness, your hips instinctively jerking upward in a silent, pathetic plea for him to keep moving. The tease was unbearable; your body was wound so incredibly tight, practically begging for the release he was intentionally withholding from you.
Yoongi didn't budge an inch. He simply let out a dark, amused huff against your ear, his fingers remained buried like lead inside your dripping pussy. "I didn't ask for a whine," he rasped, his thumb pressing firmly against your jawline to tilt your head back just enough to look at him. "I asked for words. Tell me you want me to fuck you." He repeated the command.
“I–I… I want you fuck me.” You stutter out.
"Good girl," he growled the praise against your ear as he finally withdrew his fingers from your drenched warmth.
The sudden emptiness left you cold for only a second before the weight of his front pressed completely over you, pinning you flat into the couch. He didn't waste another moment. His hand reached down between your bodies, guiding his throbbing cock directly against your swollen opening, smearing your own excess wetness along the head.
He didn't ease into it. With one fluid, commanding thrust of his hips, Yoongi buried himself all the way inside of you, driving deep until his pelvis smacked hard against yours.
Your breath cut off completely, a choked scream tearing from your throat as your fingers clawed desperately into the fabric of his shirt. Your gaze, already locked wide onto his, turned instantly glassy as his sheer thickness stretched you open to an impossible limit, filling you so completely it made your head spin.
“Fuck—” The raven grunted, his upper body hovering over you as he went completely rigid, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
He stayed entirely still, his muscles locked as he forced himself to hold back and let your body adjust to his size. The utter stretch of him filling you to the absolute brim made your hips tremble against the cushions, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches beneath his heavy frame.
Every muscle in his back was corded with strain, his pulse hammering heavily where his chest pressed against yours. He took a slow, deep breath, waiting out the initial shock of the fit, though the tight, desperate clench of your walls around his cock was clearly pushing his self control over the edge.
The moment the clenching of your walls finally eased into a welcoming squeeze, Yoongi let out a satisfied groan. He didn't give you a second to recover. Pulling back just enough to catch his leverage, he drove his hips forward, initiating a hard, deliberate rhythm that completely altered the gravity of the room. The slow, punishing depth of his first few strokes was consuming; he slid almost entirely out before sinking all the way back in, bottoming out against you with a wet, heavy thud that rattled the breath right out of your lungs.
He growled, his hands locking firmly on your hips to keep you pinned into the cushions as his pace began to quicken. "Fuck, your pussy feels so good. Just like I imagined."
The steady, intense heat of his body against yours quickly became a relentless blur as his speed increased. The contact was rougher now, the coarse denim of his jeans and the fabric of his boxers scraping against your inner thighs with every aggressive plunge.
The sound of his skin and denim slapping against you echoed loud in the room, driving home the raw, bruising pace he was establishing. With every powerful thrust, his pelvis collided hard against your hips, the tight fullness stretching you so completely that a series of needy, high pitched moans broke from your throat. Because it was your first time, the sheer magnitude of the sensation was almost too much to process; every single movement sent a wave of sweet ache straight through your body, a deep tightness that was simultaneously agonizing and intoxicating as he broke you in.
Yoongi’s gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and entirely focused as he hovered over you. As his upper body leaned in closer to deepen the angle, the chain around his neck swung free. “God, you’re so pretty.” He breathed out. “The best pussy I’ve ever fucking had.”
“Y-Yoongi…” you moaned, your hands balling up the fabric of his shirt tightly. The raven flashed his gummy smile at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. It was something he could listen to over and over again.
“Fuck… say my name again.”
"Y-Yoongi..." you cried out again, your voice completely breaking as your eyes fluttered closed, your mind dissolving under the weight of pleasure, until the sudden sharp, stinging sensation of his fingers gently smacked your cheek, snapping your eyes back open.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice growing incredibly rough and strained as his pace became frantic. "I want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He panted, undoubtedly coming close to his end. You were close as well, feeling an intense feeling build up in your stomach.
"Look at how wet you are for me," he rasped, his dirty talk turning completely unfiltered as he felt the contractions of your walls tightening around him. He drove into you harder, faster. "You're taking every single inch of me."
Your vision blurred at the edges as that coiled heat in your stomach wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. Every touch felt magnified a hundred times over because it was him, because it was your first time, and the vulnerability of being completely pinned beneath his weight had your mind spinning out of control.
Yoongi let out a low, breathless laugh, his hips stuttering as the deep squelch of your pussy and his thrusts echoed loudly. "Fuck, look what we did," he groaned, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction as he looked down at where your bodies met. "You completely soaked the couch underneath us, baby. You're dripping all over the cushions for me."
Hearing those words sent a heavy wave of heat straight to your face, a mix of intense shyness and absolute surrender that made you squeeze him even tighter.
"Y-Yoongi, I'm gonna..." you cried out, your fingers letting go of his shirt so you could wrap your arms securely around his neck, pulling him down against you. Your hips bucked up instinctively against his, completely consumed by the pressure. "I'm about to cum..."
His dark eyes flared with desperation, his pace turning completely frantic at your admission. Strands of his damp, raven hair fell completely into his face, clinging to his sweaty forehead and obscuring his vision, but he didn't even try to brush them away as he stared down at you through the dark fringe. He slid his arms beneath your back, wrapping them tightly around you and locking you in an embrace that left no space between your chests.
"Me too, baby, fuck, I'm right there with you," he panted out, his voice entirely undone.
He bottomed out hard, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with completely blown out eyes, caught instantly as the coiled tension in your stomach snapped. “Oh god, fuck!” You scream aloud. An explosive, blinding wave of release crashed through you, your walls clamping down on him in tight, frantic pulses.
"I wanna watch my cum dripping out of this tight little pussy when I'm done with you." Yoongi growled, his grip tightening around you as the muscles in his back locked up, your climax triggering his own.With a final, deep thrust, Yoongi threw his head back, his dark hair tossing wildly away from his face. A loud, guttural groan tore from his throat as he came heavily inside you, his entire frame shuddering violently within your embrace as he poured himself into your tightness, locking you both into the shared, breathless aftershocks of the peak.
The violent shuddering of his body slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of your shared, ragged breathing filling the quiet room. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Yoongi remained buried deep inside you, his heavy frame completely draped over yours, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his chest heaved against your breasts.
The tight grip of his arms around your back gradually softened, his hands now simply resting against the fabric of your dress, tracing comforting circles into your waist through the material. You could feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat right against your ribs, slowly syncing up with your own.
With a low, exhausted grunt, Yoongi shifted his weight, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at you, careful not to crush you on the narrow cushions. Strands of his damp, raven hair were still stuck to his forehead, framing eyes that were dark, heavy lidded, and utterly soft. The intimidating intensity from moments before was completely gone, replaced by a quiet, protective warmth.
"You okay?" he murmured, his voice incredibly deep from the groans he’d just let out. He raised one hand, his thumb gently brushing against your skin, his touch entirely tender.
“Mhm..” You nod breathlessly, your body feeling liquefied, a pleasant ache settling deep into you.
A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down at where your bodies were still joined beneath the bunched up layers of your dress. True to his word, as he slowly and carefully began to pull himself out of your slick cunt, a thick, white stream of his release mixed with your own, dripping out of you and pooling onto the already damp fabric of the couch cushions beneath your hips.
"Look at that," Yoongi whispered, a low rumble of dark satisfaction vibrating in his chest as he stared at the messy sight. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting the salt of your skin. “You did so fucking good for your first time, baby." He praises you.
The raven collapsed back down onto you, shifting his legs so they tangled thoroughly with yours on the snug space of the couch. He tucked his face right back into your neck, wrapping his arms securely around your torso to anchor you against his chest. He didn't care about the state of his slid down jeans or the dampness of your dress; he just wanted to hold you against him as the adrenaline finally began to fade and he began to fall asleep.
Your mind was a chaotic tangle of thoughts you couldn't quite straighten out. The reality of what just happened was crashing down in waves. You had just lost your virginity. And it wasn't just to anyone; it was to Yoongi, the last person you ever expected to be in this position with.
But beneath that realization lay the heaviest weight of all; Jungkook.
The thought of his name sent a sharp, confusing pang straight through your chest. You had cheated. The word felt ugly, completely incompatible with the hazy, warm weight of Yoongi resting on top of you, yet it was undeniably there. Did you regret it? The alcohol and smoke clouded your brain too much to give you a straight answer. There was no clarity to be found right now, no easy wave of guilt or sudden rush of justification. There was no going back from this. No fixing it, no pretending it was a mistake born purely out of a messy night. The moment you had agreed to come to Yoongi’s warehouse, the trajectory of everything had shifted.
All you knew for certain, as you stared blankly into the dimly lit room with Yoongi’s heartbeat thumping steady against your ribs, was that everything was about to change.
[ ▸ ] — you arrive at camp skz ready for cabins, campfires, and the particular kind of crisis only a child with wet socks can create. you are not ready for changbin, who turns out to be built, funny, stubbornly helpful, and much too good at making kids feel brave. by the end of summer, cabin fever has less to do with the woods and everything to do with the boy you keep finding beside you.
[ ☰ ] — event masterlist - schedule
[ ✐ ] — 9k
[ ⌗ ] — camp counselor!changbin x camp counselor!reader coworkers to lovers slow burn? camp shenanigans graphic & detailed smut oral ( f receiving ) squirting
[ ✉︎ ] — aaaaaand we're back! first of all—please listen to because and endless sun. these capture the vibe of this fic best <3 i'm so excited for you to get to know my big, beefy, softy camp counselor husband. this boy is quietly c o n f i d e n t over lifeguard!chris's loud cockiness, which is a little refreshing...but just wait until you get to the smut scene 😈 so happy to see everyone's response to the event so far <3 so without further ado, enjoy hunnies, and please like, reblog, and comment to show your support—it really does mean a lot to us writers. and i LOVE seeing what you guys think! feedback is always appreciated. love you all so much! mwah!
The first thing you saw when Chaewon turned off the main road was a wooden sign nailed between two posts at the edge of the trees.
CAMP SKZ
Strength. Kindness. Zeal.
You stared at it through the windshield, your iced coffee sweating between your knees.
“Screaming. Kid. Zoo,” you said.
Chaewon laughed hard enough that the car swerved slightly on the gravel. “We haven’t even parked yet, bitch.”
“I’m preparing myself.”
“You’re going to love it.”
The road curved beneath a canopy of pine trees before opening into a clearing. Cabins sat in neat rows along dirt paths, dark green with cream trim and little wooden signs hanging near the steps. The main lodge stood at the center of camp with a wraparound porch and a bell mounted beside the door. Farther down, the lake flashed blue through the trees, bright under the afternoon sun.
Counselors were already everywhere. Some carried bags. Some dragged coolers. Someone near the sports field was fighting with a volleyball net that had wrapped itself around his leg. Music played faintly from somewhere near the mess hall, interrupted by laughter, shouts, and the slam of car doors.
Chaewon parked beside Cabin Three and turned off the engine.
You sat there for a second.
She nudged your arm. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you said. “Just accepting that I voluntarily gave up six weeks of air conditioning.”
“You also gained practical experience for your social work degree.”
“I could’ve done that indoors.”
“You would’ve hated indoors.”
You opened your door and stepped into warm air that smelled like pine, dust, sunscreen, and lake water. You grabbed your backpack and reached for your duffel just as someone jogged past the parking area carrying two stacked coolers against his chest. He moved quickly over the gravel, shoulders broad beneath a fitted gray shirt, arms locked around the cooler handles like they weighed nothing. His black shorts clung to thick thighs, and his hair was damp at the edges from the heat.
A voice called from the lodge porch. “Changbin! Chan said those go by the mess hall!”
The guy turned his head. “I know. I’m saving them from Jisung.”
“I didn’t do anything!” another voice yelled from inside.
“Yet.”
“No one respects me here!”
The guy, Changbin, laughed and kept walking.
You realized you were still holding your duffel strap without lifting it.
Chaewon followed your gaze. “Oh,” she said.
You pulled the bag from the trunk. “What?”
“You’re studying social work, not anatomy, girlfriend.”
You shoved your backpack higher on your shoulder and started toward the lodge. “Keep talking and I’ll request a different roommate cabin.”
“You can’t. I already claimed you.”
“Unfortunately.”
Inside the lodge, the main room was full of folding chairs, clipboards, name tags, and counselors trying to look normal while silently judging where to sit. You followed Chaewon to two chairs near the middle. A woman with a neat ponytail and a staff binder stood at the front, speaking to a guy who nodded with his whole attention.
“That’s Director Hong,” Chaewon whispered. “She runs the camp.”
A few minutes later, Director Hong clapped her hands once, and the room quieted.
“Welcome to Camp SKZ,” she said. “For those of you returning, welcome back. For those of you joining us for the first time, we’re glad you’re here. The next three days are staff training. Campers arrive on day four, which means you have three days to learn the grounds, your roles, the emergency procedures, and each other.”
Introductions came next.
Chan went first. He was the head counselor, assigned to leadership games, campfire circles, evening reflections, and night rounds. He had a calm, friendly way of speaking that made the room settle around him.
Minho handled nature trails and animal care, introducing himself plainly before telling everyone not to touch anything with teeth, venom, suspicious coloring, or an attitude.
Jisung ran games, skits, and cabin competitions, which explained why he had already made three people laugh before orientation started.
Hyunjin handled arts, mural painting, and talent show costumes, speaking with enough passion about glitter supervision that even Director Hong looked amused.
Felix ran the baking club and kindness crew, warm and bright as he explained that campers would make simple treats and write notes for each other throughout the week.
Seungmin handled music, morning announcements, and talent show rehearsals with a polite smile that made it clear he would absolutely make children rehearse until they got the words right.
Jeongin led beginner archery and team games, relaxed and confident with a whistle already hanging around his neck.
Then Changbin stood.
You made a point of looking at his face, but it didn’t help much.
“I’m Changbin,” he said, one hand lifting in a small wave. “I’m studying kinesiology. I’ll be running athletics, strength challenges, canoe safety drills, and helping with any activity where someone might decide they’re stronger than common sense.”
Jisung leaned back in his chair with a frown. “You can just say my name.”
“I was being polite.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“I was trying.”
The female counselors followed.
Bestie Chaewon handled drama games and cabin bonding, which fit her perfectly because she could make forced group activities feel almost normal.
Yunjin led waterfront activities and swim safety, sunglasses perched on her head, whistle ready, voice strong enough to cut across a lake.
Minji ran crafts and friendship bracelets, sweet until she began discussing bead organization with startling seriousness.
Hanni handled dance and movement games, smiling as she promised to make even reluctant campers move by the end of the summer.
Nari took quiet hour, the reading corner, and puzzles, her voice soft but steady.
Jisoo led gardening and outdoor science, already excited about the herb beds and the little greenhouse behind the mess hall.
Kazuha handled yoga, stretching, and morning warm-ups by the lake.
When it was your turn, you stood with your clipboard against your chest. “I’m studying social work,” you said. “I’ll be helping with camper care, cabin check-ins, conflict resolution, and general emotional damage control.”
Chan nodded solemnly. “We’ll need that.”
“Especially from the counselors,” Seungmin said, glancing at Jisiung.
Jisung pointed at him. “You all are obsessed with me.”
“I didn’t name you.”
“You looked right at me.”
You sat back down, and Chaewon leaned toward you.
“Good intro,” she whispered.
“Thanks. I blacked out.”
After orientation, Director Hong walked everyone through the rules. No campers alone near the lake. No hiking without two counselors. No food in cabins unless you wanted bugs, raccoons, or a lecture from Minho. No swimming without Yunjin present. No campfires without Chan or Director Hong. No using the emergency golf cart unless it was a real emergency.
Jisung raised his hand. “What counts as a real emergency?”
Director Hong looked at him.
He lowered his hand. “I know.”
Staff week moved quickly after that.
You unpacked in Cabin Three with Chaewon, fought over the bed by the window, lost because Chaewon had already put her pillow there. You toured the mess hall, infirmary, craft cabin, waterfront, sports field, hiking trails, storage sheds, and the little patch of garden beds behind the kitchen. By the end of the first day, your shoes were dusty, your shirt clung to your back, and you had already learned that camp maps looked cute until you were the person trying to follow them.
You also learned that Changbin was very helpful.
He carried coolers. He moved tables. He fixed a wobbly bench outside the mess hall because he had noticed it during the tour. He helped Minji lift craft bins onto a high shelf. He took a stack of folded camp shirts from Felix before Felix could insist he had them. He moved through camp like his body was always ready to be useful.
On the second day, you rotated through everyone’s activity areas so you could understand where campers might need support. Baking club with Felix smelled like cinnamon and sugar even before anything went in the oven. Arts with Hyunjin involved brush washing rules, canvas labeling, and a warning that creative freedom did not include painting on cabin walls again. Quiet hour with Nari was peaceful enough that you considered hiding there until August.
Then you reached athletics.
Changbin stood under the shade of a large oak with his clipboard tucked under one arm. He had changed into black shorts and a sleeveless staff shirt, which felt deeply unnecessary and also unavoidable. Sweat had dampened the hair at the nape of his neck. His shoulders looked broad enough to be unfair.
You walked up beside him and forced yourself to look at the equipment.
“Social work has brought me to sandbags,” you said.
He laughed. “You sound thrilled.”
“I’m open-minded.”
“You look suspicious.”
“I can be both.”
He walked you through each station. Relay races for teamwork. Obstacle courses for confidence. Strength challenges adjusted by age. Balance games for campers who hated running but still wanted to feel included. He spoke clearly, not rushing, and every explanation came back to safety and encouragement.
“You really thought this out,” you said.
He shrugged. “Kids remember when adults make them feel weak.”
You looked at him. He kept his eyes on the field. “I don’t want to be that guy.”
The answer stayed with you longer than you expected.
Later that afternoon, during canoe safety training, Changbin demonstrated emergency carries with Jisung, who seemed far too excited to be rescued.
“Lift me like I matter,” Jisung said, standing with his arms out.
Changbin sighed. “You matter less every time you speak.”
“Cruel.”
Changbin still lifted him easily, shifting Jisung over his shoulder while the group clapped and laughed.
You watched the movement of Changbin’s arms, the stability in his stance, the way he carried Jisung like it cost him almost nothing. Changbin set him down and looked across the group.
“Anyone else want to try being carried?”
His eyes landed on you. You felt heat creep up your neck.
“No,” you said immediately.
He grinned. “I didn’t say your name.”
“You looked at me.”
“You can hear smiles and read looks now?”
“With enough suspicion, yes.”
He crossed his arms, which did not help the arm situation. “Scared?”
That was unfair.
You pushed your clipboard into Chaewon’s chest and stepped forward. “Fine.”
Changbin crouched in front of you. “Piggyback is easiest.”
“Don’t drop me.”
He looked back over his shoulder. “You think I’m going to drop you?”
“I just met you yesterday.”
He laughed, and you climbed onto his back before you could overthink it. His hands hooked securely under your thighs, warm through your shorts. Your arms settled around his shoulders. He stood slowly, and your stomach dropped for reasons that had nothing to do with height.
He was solid beneath you. Steady. “You good?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“You sound tense.”
“You’re holding my thighs in front of coworkers.”
His laugh came out low. “That would do it.”
He carried you across the grass with no visible effort, taking even steps while everyone watched. You tried to keep your face neutral. It was difficult when his shoulders moved beneath your arms and his hands stayed firm under your legs.
“Still good?” he asked.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m responsible.”
“You’re showing off.”
“Also that.”
You laughed, and his grip tightened for half a second before he lowered you carefully back to the grass. When your feet touched down, he didn’t immediately move away. Neither did you.
Chaewon coughed behind you. “So educational.”
You turned and snatched your clipboard from her hands.
By the time campers arrived the next morning, the staff had fallen into a loose rhythm.
You also learned that Changbin could not say no when someone asked for help. That became obvious before lunch on the first camper day.
He carried luggage. Then more luggage. Then a stack of bunk mattresses someone wanted moved. Then water jugs. Then a box of sports jerseys. Then he tried to help Jisoo carry soil to the garden beds and almost walked straight into Director Hong.
“Changbin,” she said.
He froze with a bag of soil against his chest. “Yes?”
“Have you eaten?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. She raised her eyebrows.
You walked over and took the clipboard tucked under his arm. “I’ll finish check-ins for athletics. Go eat.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re sweating through your shirt and you just tried to put gardening soil in the sports shed.”
He looked down at the bag.
Jisoo gently took it from him. “This one’s mine.”
Changbin rubbed the back of his neck. “Right.”
You pointed toward the mess hall. “Food.”
He smiled, sheepish. “You’re kind of scary.”
“I’m practicing for my future career.”
He leaned closer as he passed. “It’s working.”
Your heart kicked hard against your ribs.
The campers turned Camp SKZ into exactly what you had expected and nothing like you had imagined.
They arrived shy, loud, tearful, excited, sticky, sunburned, already missing home, already making friends, already losing water bottles. By the end of the first day, you had learned that a seven-year-old could cry over the wrong bunk with full-body devastation, a nine-year-old could ask forty-three questions about snakes without breathing, and a twelve-year-old could clock adult tension with terrifying accuracy.
Her name was Aria. She was in Cabin Five, wore friendship bracelets up both arms, and had the steady gaze of someone who missed nothing.
She found you on the second day while you were helping pass out orange slices after relay races.
“Do you like Counselor Changbin?”
You dropped an orange slice. “What?”
Aria looked over at Changbin, who was crouched by the water cooler helping a younger camper tie his shoe. “Because he likes you.”
You crouched to pick up the orange. “You should eat more fruit.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You’re very direct.”
“My mom says that.”
“She’s right.”
Aria took an orange slice from the bowl and narrowed her eyes. “He gets smiley when you walk over.”
“I think he’s just friendly, Aria.”
“No, Counselor Felix is friendly. Counselor Changbin is smiley.”
She walked away before you could recover. Across the field, Changbin looked up and caught your eye and smiled while waving.
Damn it.
The first two weeks moved in heat, noise, and routine.
You spent most days moving wherever you were needed. You helped Milo, a quiet camper who hated being away from home, find a book in Nari’s reading corner. You sat with Theo after he scraped his knee and insisted he could see bone. You mediated a fight between two girls who both wanted to be “the moon” in Hyunjin’s talent show backdrop. And you helped Felix talk a younger camper through the devastation of spilling flour everywhere.
Changbin’s athletics area quickly became one of the busiest parts of camp. Kids liked him because he made everything feel possible. He gave them choices. He let them try again. He celebrated effort without making it sound fake.
He was also extremely competitive.
You learned this during the first staff game night, when Jisung suggested charades and Changbin treated it like an Olympic event.
“No, no, no,” he said, leaning over the table as Chan pulled a slip from the bowl. “We need categories. We need a system.”
“It’s charades,” you said.
“It's a competition.”
“It’s people pretending to be lawn mowers.”
“And we should win by being the best lawn mowers.”
“You almost made Felix cry because he guessed pancake instead of waffle.”
Changbin turned to Felix. “I apologized.”
Felix smiled gently. “You did.”
You and Changbin kept ending up together after that. Sometimes it was staff scheduling. Sometimes it was Chaewon’s interference. Sometimes it was the campers, who started treating you like a matched set after Color War planning began. Sometimes it was just you finding him across the mess hall without meaning to, or him appearing beside you with an extra water bottle because you had forgotten yours again.
He was kind in ways that didn’t ask for attention.
His body was easy to notice. Everyone noticed it. The arms, the shoulders, the thighs, the way his staff shirt pulled across his chest when he lifted something heavy without thinking.
But the rest of him was harder to ignore.
By week three, Color War began.
Director Hong announced it at breakfast, and the mess hall exploded. Campers cheered, counselors groaned, Jisung stood on a bench until Chan told him to get down, and Seungmin immediately demanded rules in writing so he could find loopholes.
The teams were divided after lunch. Chan and Minji led Green. Yunjin and Felix led Blue. Minho and Nari led Purple. Hyunjin and Hanni led Yellow. Seungmin and Jisoo led Red.
You and Changbin got Orange.
Jisung and Jeongin were in charge of scorekeeping, which everyone was okay with.
“Why don’t I get a team?” Jisung demanded.
“Because last year you taught your team psychological warfare,” Chan said.
“It worked.”
“A camper cried because you told him Blue had eyes everywhere.”
“That was unrelated.”
“It was very related,” Jeongin said, pressing his lips together.
Orange team met under the shade of a pine tree after breakfast. You had twelve campers, including Milo, Theo, Aria, and two sisters who immediately asked if they could be co-captains.
Changbin clapped his hands once. “Okay. Team name ideas.”
“Orange Crushers,” Theo said.
“Fire Tigers,” one of the sisters offered.
“Cheese,” Milo said.
Everyone looked at him.
He shrugged. “Orange cheese.”
Changbin nodded seriously. “Strong option.”
You covered your mouth to keep from laughing.
Changbin crouched in front of the group. “What about Fire Foxes?”
Milo raised his hand slowly. “Can foxes be scared?”
“Sure,” you said. “Brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared.”
Milo nodded. “Then yes.”
So orange became the Fire Foxes.
Color War lasted three days and nearly ended several friendships.
There were relay races, canoe races, trivia, tug-of-war, obstacle courses, banner painting, skit battles, water balloon tosses, and one very serious marshmallow tower competition. Changbin treated every event like the championship match of his life, but he was never harsh with the kids. He got loud, encouraging, and ridiculous. He let Theo paint orange stripes across his cheeks, and carried Milo on his shoulders during the chant competition when Milo got too nervous to stand in front.
You tried to pretend it didn’t affect you.
The tug-of-war was the worst though.
Orange faced Blue in the final round. Yunjin stood on the opposite side with Felix and their team, looking far too confident. Changbin positioned the Fire Foxes along the rope, checking their hands and feet.
“Lean back,” he told them. “Use your legs. Listen to each other. Don’t yank early.”
Theo bounced in place. “Can we yell?”
“Absolutely.”
You stood beside Changbin at the back of the line. “You’re more excited than they are.”
“I love tug-of-war.”
“I can tell.”
“We’re going to win.”
“You know they’re children, right?”
“Our children.”
You looked at him sharply.
He didn’t seem to realize what he had said until a second later. His ears turned red.
You smiled slowly. “Our children?”
“Team children.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“You made it weird.”
Jeongin blew the whistle, and the rope snapped tight.
The Fire Foxes screamed immediately, some pulling in sync, some just making noise. Changbin planted his feet behind the last camper and shouted encouragement over their heads.
“Lean back! Good! Good, Milo, keep going! Theo, feet down! There you go!”
You shouted with him, laughing when Felix’s team began chanting “Blue! Blue! Blue!” across the line.
“Orange!” Changbin yelled.
“Orange!” the kids answered.
The flag in the center wavered. For a moment, Blue pulled ahead. Then Milo, face red with effort, yelled, “Fire Foxes unite!” The entire Orange team screamed and pulled.
The flag crossed the line. Orange won.
The kids lost their minds. Theo threw himself at Changbin’s waist. Aria grabbed your hand and jumped up and down. Milo smiled so widely it made your chest hurt.
Changbin looked at you over the chaos, face bright with sweat and orange face paint. “We won,” he said.
You laughed. “We did.”
He held up his hand. You high-fived him, but he caught your fingers for half a second before letting go. It was quick—probably nothing. But your heart treated it like something.
Week four was when everyone started to wear down.
The first burst of summer excitement had softened into exhaustion. Campers were homesick again in smaller, quieter ways. Counselors snapped at each other more easily. The heat pressed over the camp every afternoon until even Jisung ran out of energy.
Changbin began overdoing it again.
You saw it before anyone else did. He stayed late to fix the shed door. He covered Jeongin’s team games when Jeongin got a headache. He carried supplies to the waterfront. He helped Chan with night rounds. He ran athletics all morning, then joined canoe drills because Yunjin needed another adult.
Then the accident happened.
Minho led a nature hike with Cabin Four and Cabin Five, and you joined because Milo had been anxious that morning and asked if you were coming. Changbin came because the trail dipped near the creek and Director Hong wanted another counselor there. Jisung came because he claimed hikes needed a morale boost, which Minho argued against until Chan said it might help keep the campers entertained.
It was warm but not miserable under the trees. The campers moved in uneven clusters, stopping to look at mushrooms, interesting rocks, and one beetle that caused all the girls to scream. Jisoo identified plants along the way while Minho reminded everyone not to touch anything without asking.
Milo walked beside you near the back. “You think there are bears?” he asked.
“No.”
“You said that fast.”
“Because I feel confident.”
“What if there’s one bear?”
“Then Changbin will ask it to join tug-of-war.”
Milo looked ahead at Changbin, who was helping Theo cross a muddy patch. “He would win.”
“Probably.”
You heard Changbin laugh ahead of you, like he had caught part of it.
The trail narrowed after the creek. Minho led the group down a slope where roots crossed the dirt in thick lines. He warned everyone to go slowly. And for once, everyone listened.
Almost everyone.
Theo slipped first. His sneaker slid on loose dirt, and he grabbed at the closest thing to him, which happened to be your arm. You caught him before he fell fully, but the sudden pull knocked your weight sideways. Your foot landed wrong against a root, and pain shot through your ankle hard enough to make your vision flash.
You sat down fast, gripping Theo’s shoulder to keep him upright.
Changbin was there in seconds. “I’ve got him,” he said, steadying Theo.
Theo’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to!”
You forced yourself to breathe through the pain. “Hey, look at me. You’re okay. I’m okay.”
“You’re hurt!”
“Yeah, but I’m not mad. Accidents happen.”
Minho crouched by your foot, careful as he checked the ankle. His face stayed calm, but his jaw tightened slightly. “Can you stand?” he asked.
You tried.Pain flared immediately.
“Nope,” you said, sitting back down. “Absolutely not.”
Jisung hovered behind him with wide eyes. “Do we need the emergency golf cart?”
Minho looked at the narrow trail. Jisung looked too. “Right,” he said. “No golf cart.”
Changbin crouched in front of you. “I’ll carry you.”
You looked at him. “It’s downhill.”
“I know.”
“That makes it harder.”
“I know.”
“You’re tired.”
His expression changed, just a little. “I can do it,” he said.
“Bin.”
The campers had gone quiet, all watching.
Changbin lowered his voice. “Let me help you.”
Your throat tightened at the softness of it.
You sighed and then reluctantly nodded.
He turned and crouched. You climbed onto his back carefully, trying not to jostle your ankle. His hands slid under your thighs, secure and warm. He stood slowly, testing your weight before taking the first step.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m conscious.”
“That’s one thing.”
“My pride is dead.”
“We’ll hold a service.”
You laughed despite the pain, forehead nearly brushing the back of his shoulder.
Minho led the group slowly. Jisung walked with the campers, distracting them with a story about the time he claimed to have been saved by a herd of deer.
Changbin moved carefully down the trail. Every step was controlled. You could feel the effort in his body, the way his back shifted beneath your chest, the way his breath deepened as the path dipped and turned. He warned you before uneven patches and tightened his grip when the ground got loose.
“You still okay?” he asked after a few minutes.
“You’re asking a lot of questions again.”
“You’re injured on my back. I’m allowed extra questions.”
“You love extra questions.”
He laughed, breathless this time. “Maybe.”
You rested your cheek near his shoulder and stopped teasing.
By the time you reached the infirmary, your ankle was swollen, Theo was crying again, Milo had handed you a crushed granola bar from his pocket, and Changbin’s shirt was damp with sweat.
Nurse Park checked your ankle and declared it a mild sprain. Ice, rest, elevation, no hiking, and limited activity for a few days.
Theo stood by the doorway, face miserable. You waved him over and he came slowly.
“I really am sorry,” he said.
“I know,” you said. “And I really am okay.”
“You’re not going to leave camp?”
“No.”
His shoulders relaxed.
Changbin stood near the foot of the cot, arms crossed, eyes still on your ankle.
You looked at him. “You okay?”
His gaze flicked up. He blinked. “Me?”
“You carried me down half a trail.”
“I’m fine.”
You tilted your head.
He sighed. “I’m sweaty and I want water.”
“See? Honesty. Growth.”
He smiled.
After that, the camp became unbearable because everyone had heard how Changbin carried you out of the woods.
Everyone.
By dinner, Jisung had already told three dramatic versions of the story. In one, Changbin had sprinted through the trees with you in his arms. In another, he had fought off a raccoon. In the third, he had lifted a fallen tree.
“There was no raccoon,” you said, sitting at the staff table with your ankle propped on an extra chair.
Jisung ignored you. “The raccoon had a knife.”
Minho set his tray down. “There was no racoon.”
“You weren’t looking.”
“I was leading the hike.”
“Exactly. Your back was turned. Raccoon opportunity.”
Changbin sat across from you, still looking tired, still looking pleased every time someone mentioned the carry even though he tried to hide it.
But underneath the jokes, something had changed.
Changbin stayed close. He walked you to meals. He carried your activity binder even when you told him not to. He sat with you during quieter parts of the day when your ankle had to stay elevated. He was careful not to hover in a way that made you feel helpless, but he noticed every wince, every shift, every time you tried to stand too quickly.
The final week came too fast.
Your ankle healed. The talent show took over the lodge. Hyunjin became intense about costumes, Hanni ran dance rehearsals until the campers begged for water breaks, Seungmin somehow got an entire group of ten-year-olds to sing on pitch, and Jisung hosted with enough chaotic confidence that everyone worried until it actually worked. Theo forgot his line during rehearsal, and Changbin crouched near the edge of the stage, gently telling him to say what he meant instead of worrying about perfect words.
On the final performance night, Theo did exactly that.
“Camp is scary at first,” he said, voice shaking into the microphone. “But then it gets less scary because people help you.”
Half the staff cried, Jisung and Felix being the loudest.
The next day, families began arriving after breakfast. Campers who had spent six weeks claiming they were ready to go home suddenly clung to counselors like they were being sent across the ocean. Parents collected luggage, crafts, damp towels, missing socks, and stories their children told too loudly.
Milo found you near the cabins with his backpack on and his eyes wet.
“You’re leaving too?” he asked.
“Tomorrow,” you said.
He nodded, looking down. You crouched carefully in front of him. “You did really well this summer.”
“I cried a lot.”
“But you also tried a lot.”
He thought about that. Then he pulled something from his backpack and handed it to you. It was a folded piece of paper, soft at the edges from being carried around.
You opened it after he hugged you before running off to find his parents. It was a drawing of you, Changbin, Milo, and a fox standing under a tree. Above it, in uneven letters, he had written:
CAMP WAS THE BEST!
You folded the paper again and pressed it against your chest.
After the families left, the camp felt strange.
The staff gathered in the mess hall for one last dinner, though no one was as loud as usual. People looked tired and emotional, picking at pasta, trading stories, pretending the end of camp wasn’t sitting right there beside them.
Later, as the sun started lowering behind the trees, Changbin found you outside Cabin Three.
He sat beside you, knees touching yours. You watched the empty field. The tire stacks were put away. The banners had been taken down. The volleyball net sagged slightly in the middle.
After a while, Changbin said, “Do you want to get out of here for a bit?”
You turned to him.
“There’s a place,” he said. “Past the ridge. Smaller lake. Quiet. Minho showed me during staff week.”
“You’re inviting me back into the woods.”
“I promise not to let you fall.”
“You said that like someone with a hero complex.”
“I have a mild hero complex.”
“It’s not mild and you know it.”
He smiled. “Come with me anyway.”
You should have said no. There was packing to do. Cabins to sweep. Forms to finish. A duffel bag on your bunk, still half-empty because you kept pretending tomorrow was not happening.
But the camp was too quiet, and Changbin was looking at you like the summer was not finished with either of you yet.
“Fine,” you said. “But if I sprain anything else, I’m billing you.”
“I accept the terms and conditions.”
The trail to the hidden lake was narrower than the others, tucked behind the older cabins and past a low ridge where the trees grew closer together. Changbin walked beside you, slowing when the ground got uneven even though your ankle had healed.
You noticed. He noticed you noticing.
“I’m not hovering,” he said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
You smiled. “Maybe.”
The farther you walked, the quieter the camp became behind you. Then the trail dipped, and opened suddenly. The lake sat between the trees, smaller than the main one and completely still near the shore. The water caught the late sunlight in warm strips. A narrow wooden dock stretched out from the bank, weathered and uneven, the planks glowing from the heat of the day.
You walked to the end and looked out. “Damn,” you said quietly.
Changbin stood beside you. “Yeah.”
“You hid this all summer?”
“I didn’t hide it.”
“You didn’t mention it.”
“I was waiting.”
“For what?”
He looked at you. “For the right time.”
You turned back toward the water because it was safer than looking at him. “That was smooth.”
“I can be smooth.”
A breeze crossed the lake, moving over your skin. The sun was lower now, gold touching his face and shoulders. He looked tired from the summer, hair a little messy, shirt wrinkled, small scratches on his forearms from camp work. He also looked calm in a way you had not seen often. No campers to watch. No equipment to carry. No schedule to chase.
Just him. Just you.
Changbin stepped closer. “I wanted to kiss you after Color War,” he said suddenly.
Your pulse jumped. You looked at him, stunned. “After tug-of-war?”
“Yeah.”
“When you said our children?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “I was hoping you forgot that.”
“Not a chance.”
“I wanted to kiss you then,” he said, opening his eyes again. “And after the campfire. And pretty much every minute since I met you.”
Your throat tightened. “That’s a lot of almost kissing.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He reached for your hand, his fingers brushing yours first, asking without words. You let him take it. “I didn’t want to mess up camp,” he said. “Or make things awkward. Or make you feel like you had to let me down gently and then still eat breakfast across from me all summer.”
You smiled despite yourself. “That would’ve been horrible.”
“Exactly.”
“You’re very considerate.”
His thumb moved over your knuckles. You looked down at your joined hands, then back at him. “For the record, I wanted you to kiss me too.”
His expression changed slowly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
You pretended to think. “ Since staff week.”
He stared at you. “Staff week?”
“You carried coolers.”
“That’s all it took?”
You shrugged. “You had arms.”
He laughed, surprised and bright.
And then you tugged him closer by the hand. His smile faded as he leaned in.
The first kiss was softer than you expected.
Careful. Warm. Slow enough that you felt the restraint in it. His hand came up to your cheek, thumb settling near your jaw, and your fingers curled into the front of his shirt.
You pulled him closer, and the kiss changed. His other hand found your waist. Yours slid up to his shoulder, then the back of his neck, damp curls brushing your fingers. He made a low sound against your mouth, and every almost from the past six weeks pressed into the space between you.
When you broke apart, his forehead rested against yours. “Fuck,” he whispered.
You laughed softly, breathless. “That’s one way to put it.”
“I’m trying to be normal.”
“How’s that going?”
“Bad.”
His hand tightened at your waist, and your stomach dipped.
The lake moved quietly beside the dock. You looked toward it and Changbin followed your gaze.
“No,” you said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You thought something.”
“I was thinking the water looks nice.”
“You were thinking skinny dipping.”
His mouth twitched. “I can think two things.”
You stared at him for a second. Then you stepped back and pulled your shirt over your head.
Changbin froze.
You dropped the shirt onto the dock. “Are you coming or not?”
He blinked once. “I’m coming alright.”
“Don’t sound so shocked. You brought me to a secret lake at sunset after six weeks of almost kissing.”
“I didn’t want to assume.”
“That is, unfortunately, attractive.”
He laughed and pulled his own shirt over his head. You tried not to stare, but let’s be real—that was impossible.
The summer had shown you enough of him to be dangerous. Sleeveless shirts. Swim days. Athletics demonstrations. His arms around coolers, ropes, paddles, sandbags. But this was different. Bare chest, strong shoulders, hard abdomen, water-bright light touching his skin. He noticed your eyes move over him, and the pleased look on his face made you want to shove him into the lake.
“Yeah?”
“You have been visually aggressive all summer, sir.”
“Visually aggressive?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not a real phrase.”
“It is now.”
You unbuttoned your shorts before you lost your nerve, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them. Changbin’s eyes dropped, then lifted quickly back to your face like he was trying to be respectful and failing in real time.
You smiled. “Yeah?”
“I’m responding.”
“Cute.”
He groaned. “Don’t call me cute right now.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying very hard not to embarrass myself.”
You stepped to the edge of the dock in your bra and underwear. “Try harder.”
Then you jumped.
The water was colder than you expected, closing over your head in a rush that shocked the heat right out of your skin. You came up gasping, pushing hair out of your face as Changbin laughed from the dock.
“That was brave,” he called.
“That was stupid. Get in.”
He jumped in beside you, sending up a splash that hit your face.
“Asshole,” you said, wiping water from your eyes.
He surfaced close, grinning. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No.”
The water settles around you, cool against your skin. You both swim for a while reliving the summer and moving through the lake as the sun lowered toward the trees. It felt unreal after weeks of noise and heat and responsibility.
By the time you climbed back onto the dock, both of you were soaked and breathless, your skin prickling in the evening air. The wooden planks were still warm from the sun. You sat near the edge, water dripping from your hair, and watched Changbin pull himself up after you.
He looked at you like he had run out of reasons to wait, pushing you down gently.
Your back met the dock a moment later, his body over yours, one hand braced beside your head. He kissed you deep, slow, his weight careful but present. Your legs parted for him without thinking, and he settled between them with a quiet groan.
The world narrowed to warm wood beneath you, cool lake water on your skin, and Changbin’s mouth moving over yours like he had been waiting all summer.
His fingers brushed your wet hair away from your face. “Tell me to stop,” he said, voice rough.
You looked up at him, at the damp curls falling over his forehead, at the restraint in his jaw, at the way his chest moved with every breath.
You pulled him down again. “Don’t stop.”
Changbin’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your soaked panties, and he didn’t ask—not with words. His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and searching in the fading golden light, and you lifted your hips in answer.
“There you go,” he murmured, dragging the wet cotton down your thighs. The fabric fought him a little, clinging to your skin, and he laughed under his breath. “These are really on there. You trying to keep them, or…?”
You propped yourself up on your elbows. “Shut up and take them off, Bin.”
“Bossy.” He grinned, that crooked, infuriating grin you’ve been watching all summer across campfires and mess hall tables. “I like it.”
Your panties came free with a wet, heavy sound when he tossed them aside. You were bare now, your cunt exposed to the evening air, and the vulnerability of it made your stomach flip. But Changbin didn’t dive in. He sat back on his heels, his own boxer briefs dark with lake water and pulled down just enough to free the thick, flushed length of his cock. His hand moved on it absentmindedly—a slow, lazy stroke from base to tip—while he just looked at you.
“What?” you asked, and your voice came out a little thin.
“Nothing.” His thumb circled the head, smearing the slickness gathering there. “Just thinking about how long I’ve wanted to see you like this. Spread out on this dock. All summer I’ve been fucking losing my mind.”
Your laugh was breathy and a little nervous. “You hid it well.”
“Did I?” His grip tightened on himself, a quick, rough pump that made his abs tense. “Because I was jacking off in the staff showers every night thinking about your mouth. So maybe I didn’t hide it that well.”
The confession landed in your gut like a hot stone. You felt your cunt clench around nothing, and Changbin noticed. His eyes dropped to the wet gleam between your thighs, and his tongue swept across his bottom lip.
“I need to taste you,” he said. “I’ve been needing to taste you since the first week of camp.” He had already lowered himself onto his stomach, the dock creaking under his weight. His shoulders pushed your thighs apart, and the heat of his breath ghosted over your cunt. “I’m done being patient.”
His tongue found you in one long, flat stroke from your entrance to your clit.
Your back arched off the wood. A sound punched out of you—half moan, half gasp—and your hand flew down to grip his hair, still damp from the lake, soft and thick between your fingers.
“Fuck,” you breathed. “Oh, fuck.”
Changbin hummed against your cunt, and the vibration ricocheted through your whole body. His tongue circled your clit in a slow, deliberate figure-eight, and then he sucked—hard enough to make your thighs snap toward his ears.
He just laughed. “So sensitive,” he said, pulling back just enough to speak. His lips were glossy with you. “I’ve barely started.”
“Then fucking start.”
His eyebrow lifted. “What did I just say about being bossy?”
But he did start. He buried his face between your legs, his tongue pushing inside you, curling and stroking, and his nose pressing against your clit with every forward movement. He wasn’t neat about it. He wasn’t delicate. He ate your pussy like he was trying to climb inside you, and the wet, obscene sounds of it—the lapping, the sucking, the groan he made when you tugged his hair—echoed across the empty lake.
“You taste so fucking good,” he said, the words muffled against your flesh. “Better than I imagined. And I imagined a lot.”
You didn’t answer. Couldn't. All you could do was feel: the slick heat of his mouth, the persistent pressure on your clit, the way his cheeks brushed your inner thighs with every shift of his jaw. Your hips started to move, rocking against his face, and he let you. He groaned and opened his mouth wider, tongue flattening so you could grind against it.
“Yeah,” he panted, pulling back for air. “Use my face. Fuck, that’s hot. That’s so fucking hot.”
His hand moved on his cock again, faster now. You could hear it—the wet slap of skin on skin—and when you lifted your head to look, the sight nearly undid you. Changbin was kneeling between your legs, one hand wrapped around his thick, leaking cock, the other hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. His eyes were fixed on your cunt.
“Do you know what you look like right now?” he asked, and his voice wrecked. “All spread open and dripping. Your clit all fucking swollen. I can see it begging for me.”
“Then stop talking and—”
He didn’t let you finish. His mouth closed over your clit and his fingers pushed inside you—two of them, curving up, finding the spot that made your vision go white.
The sound that came out of you was inhuman.
“That’s it,” Changbin said, fucking you with his fingers now, slow and deep. “That’s the spot, isn’t it? Right there? Your pussy is clenching so hard around my fingers. You’re so fucking tight.”
“Bin—”
“I can feel it. I can feel how close you are. Don’t hold back. Don’t you fucking dare hold back.”
You weren't holding back. You were falling apart. The pressure built low in your belly, different from anything you’d felt before—heavier, more insistent. It wasn’t the familiar climb toward orgasm. It was something new, something that almost scared you.
Changbin’s mouth was relentless on your clit. His fingers pumped faster, crooking on every thrust, and his other hand had abandoned his cock now—both hands on you, spreading you open, holding you in place.
“I want you to come,” he said against your cunt. “I want you to come so hard you forget your own name. I want to feel it. I want to taste it. Give it to me.”
The pressure crested. Your whole body locked up. Your thighs clamped around his head. A scream tore out of your throat—loud enough to scatter birds from the trees on the far shore—and then you were gushing. Liquid sprayed from your cunt, soaking Changbin’s face, his chest, the dock beneath you. He didn’t pull away. He groaned, low and satisfied, and kept his mouth on you through the whole thing, drinking you down as you squirt all over him.
“Holy fuck,” you gasped, when you could finally breathe again. Your legs were shaking. Your whole body was shaking. “What the—what was—?”
Changbin sat back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His face was dripping. His hair plastered to his forehead. He looked absolutely wrecked, and absolutely delighted.
“You just squirted,” he said, like he was telling you the weather. “All over my face. All over this dock.”
Heat flooded your cheeks. You clapped a hand over your face. “Oh my God.”
“Don’t do that.” He pulled your hand away, and pinned it to the dock beside your head. “Don’t hide from me. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”
“I didn’t—I’ve never—”
“I know.” His grin was sharp and filthy. “I could tell. You got so tight around my fingers right before, and then you made this sound—this little whimper, like you didn’t know what was happening to your body—and then you fucking soaked me. Look at me. I’m covered in you.”
You looked. His chest shined with your wetness. His face was still slick with it. And his cock—God, his cock—was so hard it looked painful, bobbing against his stomach, the tip an angry, desperate red.
“I’m embarrassed,” you admitted, and your voice cracked on the word.
Changbin’s expression softened for half a second. Then it sharpened again, that predatory edge returning. “Being embarrassed makes it even hotter. You know that? Knowing I’m the first person to make you do that. Knowing I made your body do something you didn’t know it could do.”
He’s stroked himself again, faster now, his grip tight. The slick sound of it filled the space between you.
“I could come just from watching you,” he said. “Just looking at your pussy right now. It’s so wet. So pink and puffy and wet. I want to fuck you so bad I can’t think straight.”
“Then fuck me.”
His jaw clenched. “Say it again.”
“Fuck me, Changbin. I need your cock. I’ve been needing it all summer.”
Something snapped in him. He moved fast—faster than you expected—gripping the backs of your thighs and pushing them up toward your chest. You folded in half beneath him, and the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, hot and blunt and perfect.
“Slow,” he said, but he said it to himself, not to you. “I’m gonna go slow. I’m gonna be gentle. I’m gonna—”
The head started pushing in.
You both gasped.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck, you’re—you’re so—I can’t—”
“Bin.”
“Just—just give me a second.” He was trembling. His arms were shaking where they bracketed your shoulders, and his forehead dropped to yours. “You’re so fucking tight around me. If I move, I’m gonna come.”
You clenched around him deliberately.
His eyes flew open. “Did you just—?”
“Maybe.” You clenched again. “What are you going to do about it?”
The sound he made was somewhere between a laugh and a growl. “Oh, you’re in trouble now.”
He pushed deeper—slowly, so slowly—and you felt every inch of him. The stretch was intense, almost too much, and you grabbed at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. He hissed, but didn't stop.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice strained.
“Yeah. Yeah, just—keep going.”
“I’ve got you.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ve got you.”
He bottomed out, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You were so full, so impossibly full, and you could feel him throbbing inside you, could feel the heat of him, the pulse of his heartbeat in his cock.
“You feel that?” he asked. “You feel how deep I am?”
“Yes.”
“I’m all the way inside you. Every inch. You’re taking every fucking inch of me.”
He pulled back, just a little, and thrust in again. A slow, rolling grind that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. Your eyes fluttered shut. Your mouth fell open.
“Look at me,” he said. “I want you to look at me while I fuck you.”
You forced your eyes open. His face was inches from yours, sweat-damp and intense, his eyes burning. He was beautiful like this—all that compact muscle coiled with the effort of holding back, his jaw tight, his lips parted.
“There you are,” he murmured. “There’s my girl.”
The words hit somewhere deep in your chest. You reached up and pulled his mouth to yours.
The kiss was messy and uncoordinated, more teeth and tongue than anything else. He fucked into you slowly while he kissed you, and the rhythm of it built something hot and tight in your belly again. His tongue slid against yours. His cock slid against your walls. Everything was wet and hot and perfect.
“You’re so deep,” you gasped against his mouth. “You’re so fucking deep, Bin.”
“Yeah? You like that?”
“I love it. I love your cock. I love how it fills me up.”
He groaned, his hips jerking harder. “Keep talking. Don’t stop talking.”
“I’ve wanted this so bad. All summer. Watching you lead, watching you swim, watching you laugh with the kids. I wanted you to bend me over the arts and crafts table and fuck me stupid.”
“The arts and crafts table?” He laughed, breathless. “That’s where you wanted it?”
“I wanted it everywhere. The mess hall. The bunk beds. The fucking canoe shed.”
“The canoe shed? That place smells like mildew.”
“I don’t care.”
He kissed you again, harder this time, and his pace picked up. The slow, rolling thrusts became something more urgent. His hips snapped against you, and the dock creaked beneath you both, and the sound of your bodies meeting—wet and rhythmic—filled the evening air.
“I’m not gonna last,” he said, the words ragged. “Not like this. Not with you talking like that.”
“Then don’t last. I don’t care. Just don’t stop.”
But he did stop. He pulled out—completely—and you made a sound of protest that he silenced with a hand on your stomach.
“Turn over,” he said.
“What?”
“Turn over. I want to see you from behind. I want to watch your ass while I fuck you.”
You scrambled to obey, rolling onto your stomach. The dock was hard against your knees, but you didn’t care. Changbin’s hands found your hips, gripped them tight, and he pulled you up onto all fours.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Look at you. Look at this perfect ass. I’m gonna die. I’m literally going to die.”
“Please don’t die before you finish fucking me.”
“Fair point.”
He pushed back in, and the angle was different like this—deeper, somehow, hitting a spot that made your arms give out. Your chest dropped to the dock, your ass still in the air, and Changbin groaned.
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s it. Face down, ass up. Take my fucking cock.”
He wasn’t holding back anymore. His hips slammed against you, hard and fast, and the sound of it—the wet slap of skin on skin, the creak of the dock, his low grunts and your high whimpers—was obscene. It was the filthiest thing you’d ever heard.
“You hear that?” he asked, his voice was wrecked. “You hear how wet your pussy is? How good you’re taking me?”
You couldn’t answer. You could only moan.
“That’s what I thought. You can’t even talk, can you? Too full of my cock to say a word.”
He reached around you, his fingers finding your clit, and rubbed tight circles against it. You bucked back against him. Your thighs shaking. Your whole body shaking.
“You gonna come again? You gonna come on my cock this time?”
“Yes,” you managed. “Yes, yes, fuck, yes —”
“Do it. Come on my cock. I want to feel it. I want to feel your pussy squeeze every drop out of me.”
It hit you like a wave. A real one, not the overwrought kind—violent, sudden, stealing your breath. Your cunt clamped down on his cock, and you screamed, and Changbin shouted something—your name, maybe, or just a string of curses—and his rhythm broke.
He pulled out fast, hand flying over his cock, and you felt the first hot splash of his cum against your spine. He groaned, stroking himself through it, painting your back and ass. It went on and on, pulse after pulse, until you were dripping with him.
The dock creaked as he collapsed beside you, both of you panting, both of you covered in sweat and lake water and each other.
“Holy shit,” he said finally.
You turned your head to look at him. “Yeah.”
“You squirted.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that.”
“I’m going to mention it again. Multiple times. Probably for the rest of my life.” He rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand. “This is the best last day of camp ever.”
You laughed, and the sound was hoarse and broken and happy.
Changbin grinned before it began to fade, just a little, replaced by something more serious. “Hey.”
“What?”
“I meant what I said. About wanting you all summer.” He reached out and tucked a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “This wasn’t just...I mean, it was hot. It was really fucking hot. But it wasn’t just that. For me.”
Your heart squeezed in your chest. “It wasn’t just that for me, either.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He leaned in then and kissed you softer than before.
Afterward, the sky darkened to a deep blue over the trees.
You lay on the dock wrapped in Changbin’s open shirt, your own clothes scattered nearby and your hair still damp against your neck. The wood beneath you had lost some of its warmth, but Changbin was close enough that you didn’t feel cold. His arm rested under your head, and his fingers moved slowly over your side in quiet, absent patterns.
The walk back to camp was darker and slower. Changbin held your hand the whole way, partly because the trail was uneven, partly because neither of you wanted to stop touching. Crickets hummed in the grass, and the camp lights came into view through the trees one by one.
Tomorrow would be full of packing, sweeping cabins, loading cars, promising to text, and trying not to cry in the parking lot. Tomorrow would pull everyone back toward normal life. University. Jobs. Apartments. Schedules that did not include campfire songs and sunscreen checks.
But tonight, Camp SKZ was still yours.
Changbin stopped outside your cabin, turning to face you.
The porch light washed over his face, softening the tired lines around his eyes. His hair was still damp, and his shirt was wrinkled. He looked like summer had left its fingerprints all over him.
He leaned down, and you met him halfway. The kiss was gentle. Slow. Not careful because he was unsure, but careful because it mattered. His hand settled at your waist, warm through your shirt, and you held onto him for a few seconds longer than necessary.
When he pulled back, his smile was small and private. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.
“You better. We have cabins to clean.”
“Romantic.”
“Welcome to real life.”
He kissed you once more, quick and sweet. “I still want it.”
Your chest warmed. “Me too.”
You went inside after that, closing the cabin door quietly behind you. And outside, the camp settled deeper into the night.
The Florida heat clung to you like it always did, thick, humid, stubborn enough to follow you from the parking lot all the way up the stairs and into the apartment, like it had a personal vendetta against your sanity. Your scrubs stuck to your back, your hairline damp, your whole body carrying that bone deep exhaustion that only came from twelve hours on your feet and one too many patients who needed more than you could give. Usually, just the thought of home, of him, was enough to take the edge off. Tonight, however, the second you stepped inside, you knew something was off.
It wasn’t loud. Yunho wasn’t the type to slam doors or throw things, not even on his worst days. No, this was quieter than that. The kind of wrong that settled into the room like a shift in pressure before a storm. His voice carried from the living room, low and controlled, headset on, but there was no warmth in it, none of that easy, teasing charm he usually slipped into without thinking. It was clipped. Distracted. “Yeah, yeah, I see it,” he muttered, fingers moving fast over his keyboard. “Just…. hold on.” No laugh. No playful scolding at his chat. No “hey, you’re home” tossed over his shoulder the second the door clicked shut. That alone was enough to make you pause.
You toed your shoes off slowly, setting your bag down by the door, eyes already drifting toward the glow of his setup. The room was dim except for the LED lights lining his desk, casting everything in that soft blue purple haze that usually felt cozy. Tonight, it just made the tension more obvious, sharper somehow, like it had edges. Yunho sat forward in his chair, elbows braced on his knees instead of leaning back like he usually did. His headset was slightly askew, one side slipping down like he’d adjusted it too many times. His jaw was tight, the muscle ticking faintly, and every now and then he dragged a hand through his hair like he was trying to physically pull himself together. That’s when it really hit you. It took a lot to get him like this.
Yunho was the steady one. The one who let things roll off his back, who joked his way through frustration, who turned everything into something lighter even when it probably shouldn’t have been. You’d seen him annoyed before, sure, but this? This was something else. Something heavier. Something sitting just under the surface, barely contained. You stepped a little closer, quieter now, like you didn’t want to spook him, arms folding loosely over yourself as you leaned against the wall just outside his camera’s frame. Close enough to see him clearly, far enough not to interrupt.
His eyes flicked to the side, toward his second monitor, towards the chat, and for a split second, something in his expression tightened further. Not anger exactly. Embarrassment, maybe. Frustration tangled up with something deeper. Your brows pulled together, concern replacing the last of your exhaustion as you studied him more carefully. Whatever it was, it wasn’t just a bad game or a rough stream. Something had gotten under his skin and Yunho didn’t let things get under his skin unless it mattered. You pushed off the wall, crossing the room slowly, your presence finally pulling his attention fully toward you. His eyes met yours for a second, and there it was, that flicker. Something guarded. Something he didn’t want you to see. But you knew him too well.
“Hey,” you said softly, just loud enough for him to hear you over his headset. “You good?” He hesitated. Just for a second. Then he forced a small, automatic smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine.” You didn’t believe him for a second. And judging by the way his fingers stilled on his keyboard for a beat too long… he knew you didn’t. “Okay.” You don’t push. Not yet. You’ve learned that about him over the years, when Yunho shuts down like that, poking at it too early just makes him retreat further. So instead, you give him an easy out, a soft landing. Your voice stays light, casual, like you’re not clocking the tension practically humming under his skin.
“I’m gonna shower,” you add, already turning toward your room and he nods, quick, distracted, eyes flicking back to his screen like he’s grateful for the escape. “Yeah. I’ll be out here.” You leave him to it, but the weight in the apartment follows you down the hall and the shower ends up hotter than it should be, Florida heat be damned, but you need it. Need something to wash the hospital off you, to melt the ache out of your shoulders, to give your brain a second to breathe. Steam fills the bathroom, fogging the mirror, curling around you like a reset button you wish actually worked. For a few minutes, it almost does.
But even under the spray, your mind drifts back to him. The tightness in his jaw. The way his voice snapped at his chat. The look in his eyes when he glanced at you, like he was already bracing for something. By the time you shut the water off, that uneasy feeling is still there, clinging just as stubbornly as the humidity outside. You dry off, change into your usual oversized tee and soft shorts, hair still damp as you pad down the hallway toward your room. The apartment is quieter now. No stream chatter bleeding through the walls. No clicking keys. He must’ve ended it early. That alone says enough.
You barely make it two steps into your room before you hear it, his footsteps, slower than usual, like he’s thinking about turning around with every one but then there’s a soft knock against your already open door making you glance up. Yunho’s standing there, one hand braced against the frame, the other rubbing at the back of his neck. His hair’s messier than before, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times since you got in the shower. He’s changed out of his streaming hoodie, now in a loose tshirt and sweats, but the tension hasn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it’s worse up close.
For a second, he just… stands there. Like he’s trying to figure out how to say something he doesn’t want to say. You raise a brow slightly, sitting back against your pillows. “You gonna stand there all night, or…” He huffs out a quiet breath, something halfway between a laugh and a sigh, and finally steps in. The door creaks softly as he nudges it shut behind him, like he needs the privacy, like whatever this is… it’s not for the rest of the world. Just you. “Chloe dumped me.” It lands flat, dropped between you like it doesn’t weigh anything at all. You blink once. “Okay.” And honestly? That’s about as much reaction as he’s getting out of you. Not because you don’t care about him, you do, more than you probably should, but because Chloe? Yeah. No. You never liked her. Something about her always felt… off. Too quick, too surface level, like she was playing a part instead of actually seeing him. She’d only been around a few weeks, but even that felt like too long.
Still, you tilt your head slightly, studying him. “What happened?” Yunho exhales slowly, gaze dropping to the floor like it might have answers for him. “I don’t know,” he mutters at first, defaulting to avoidance. Then he huffs, shaking his head. “I mean…. I do know, I just…” He trails off. Yunho doesn’t usually struggle to explain things, not with you. Even when something’s messy, he talks through it, jokes through it, something. But now he’s just… stuck. Words caught somewhere between his chest and his throat as you sit up a little straighter, the shift subtle but intentional. “Yunho.” He glances up and you hold his gaze, softer this time, but firm. “Why did she dump you?”
His jaw tightens, and for a second, you think he might brush it off, change the subject, pretend it doesn’t matter. Instead, he looks away, hand dragging down his face like he’s already regretting opening his mouth. “It’s stupid.” Your eyes narrow slightly. “If it’s got you acting like this, it’s not stupid.” He lets out a quiet, humorless laugh at that, shoulders slumping just a fraction. “It kind of is,” he says, voice lower now. “I just….” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, like even saying it out loud feels like too much. And suddenly, whatever this is? It’s not just a breakup. It’s something he’s embarrassed about. Something that actually got to him.
You watch him carefully now, curiosity mixing with that familiar, protective instinct that always kicks in when it comes to him. “Yunho,” you say again, softer this time, “just tell me.” He goes still. Like the words are right there, right on the edge, and all he has to do is let them fall. He shifts his weight where he stands, like the floor suddenly isn’t steady under him anymore. His fingers curl against the back of his neck, rubbing there again and again like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. You can see the hesitation on him, thick, stubborn, sitting right behind his teeth. Which, of course… makes you lean into it. You tilt your head, watching him with that familiar look he’s known for years, the one that says you’re not getting out of this that easy.
“Okay,” you say slowly, drawing the word out just enough to get under his skin. “So it’s stupid, but you won’t say it… which means it’s definitely not stupid.” He huffs under his breath again, eyes flicking up to you for a second before dropping again. “You’re making it worse.”
“Oh, I’m just getting started,” you shoot back, shifting to sit cross legged on your bed, fully settling in like this is about to become a whole event. “What, did you forget your two week anniversary? Call her the wrong name? Please tell me you didn’t call her bro during…”
“I didn’t during…” he cuts in quickly, then stops himself, pressing his lips together and you catch that, instantly. “During what?”
“Nothing.”
“Yunho.”
He groans softly, dragging a hand down his face again. “Can you not do that?”
“Do what?” you ask, completely innocent. “That thing where you…” he gestures vaguely toward you, frustration bubbling just under the surface. “where you don’t let it go.” You grin, just a little. “You knew what you signed up for when you decided I was your best friend.” That almost gets him. His mouth twitches like he wants to smile, but it fades just as fast, the weight of whatever he’s holding onto pulling him right back down. The room quiets again, the tension stretching between you, thinner now but sharper and you soften a little, voice gentler this time. “Hey… I’m not gonna judge you.” That makes him look at you again. And there’s something in his eyes now, something caught between embarrassment and trust, like he’s standing on the edge of something he’s never said out loud before.
“You’re definitely gonna judge me,” he mutters. “I won’t,” you say, a little too quick and he raises a brow as you sigh, holding up a hand. “Okay, I might judge you a little. But like… lovingly.” That pulls a quiet laugh out of him, the tension easing just a fraction. Enough for him to finally stop pacing around it. “She said I didn’t know what I was doing,” he admits, voice low.
“Do what?” Your brain starts running through possibilities in rapid fire. “Okay, wait…. what, like you were too rough? Not rough enough? You didn’t communicate? Yunho, please don’t tell me you just…. lay there…”
“I didn’t just lay there,” he cuts in, a little defensive now.
“Then what?”
He goes quiet again. And this time, you don’t rush it. You just watch him. The way his shoulders rise with a slow inhale. The way his jaw clenches like he’s bracing for impact. The way his gaze flicks anywhere but you, floor, wall, ceiling, like eye contact would make it worse. “She said,” he starts, then stops and your patience snaps just a little. “Yunho.” He squeezes his eyes shut for half a second, like ripping off a bandage. “I’ve never gone down on a girl before, okay?” Your brain stalls completely. Because out of everything you expected him to say…. “You’re kidding.” His eyes snap open, immediate regret flashing across his face. “I knew it….”
“No, wait….hold on,” you sit up straighter, staring at him like he just told you the sky is green. “You’re serious?” He looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole. “Yes.” You blink. Once. Twice. This is Yunho.
Yunho, who’s charming without trying. Yunho, who’s had girls orbiting him since high school. Yunho, who, by all accounts, should not have this be the thing he’s insecure about. “You’ve never….” you start, still trying to process it as he shakes his head, quick and firm, like if he gets it out fast enough it’ll hurt less. “No. I just…. never did. And then it became a thing, and then I felt weird about it, and then…” he gestures vaguely, frustration creeping back in, “this!”
You stare at him for another second. Then another. And the shock is still there but something else starts creeping in underneath it. Something quieter. Something a little more dangerous. “That’s why she dumped you?” you ask finally, softer now and he lets out a humorless breath. “Yeah.” And for a second, you don’t say anything. Because that? That doesn’t sit right with you. You stare at him for another second, the shock still settling, but now it’s tangled up with something else, confusion, curiosity, a faint spark of disbelief that refuses to die down. “Okay, but why?” you ask, brows pulling together. “Like…. not in a judging way, I just… how has that just… never happened?”
Yunho exhales, long and slow, like he already hates this conversation but knows he walked himself straight into it. His hand drags through his hair again, leaving it more disheveled than before. “I don’t know,” he mutters at first, defaulting to avoidance again. Then he shakes his head, forcing himself to actually answer. “I just… never did. And then the longer I didn’t, the weirder it felt to suddenly try.” You tilt your head slightly, watching him. “Weirder how?” His jaw tightens, eyes flicking away. “Like… I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he admits, quieter now. “And I don’t want to mess it up.” There it is. Not arrogance. Not lack of interest. Just… insecurity.
You shift a little on the bed, studying him more carefully now, that earlier teasing giving way but not gone entirely. “Okay,” you say slowly, “but you’ve done other stuff.” He glances at you, wary now. “Yeah.” You squint slightly, gears turning. “So… you’ve used your hands before, right?” His ears go red immediately. “Of course I have,” he snaps, shooting you a glare that’s half defensive, half embarrassed. And that somehow makes it worse. Because now you’re even more confused. You blink at him, leaning forward just a little. “Then what’s the difference?”
He opens his mouth and closes it right back. Then opens it again, clearly searching for an answer that doesn’t make him sound as out of his depth as he feels. “It’s just… different,” he finally mutters, frustration creeping back in. “It’s not the same thing.” You watch him for a second, the way he avoids your eyes again, the way his shoulders are just slightly hunched like he’s bracing for you to laugh or tease him harder. But you don’t. Not this time. Because now you get it. Not fully but enough. Enough to see that this isn’t just about what he hasn’t done. It’s about the fact that he doesn’t feel like he’d be good at it. And for someone like Yunho, someone who’s used to being steady, capable, reliable? Good at everything. That probably stings more than he’s letting on.
“You’re overthinking it,” you say finally and he lets out a short, dry laugh. “Yeah? That seems to be the theme tonight.” You hold his gaze this time, not letting him look away. “It is,” you say, quieter. “Because it’s not as complicated as you’re making it.” Something shifts in his expression at that. “Then what is it?” he asks, before he can stop himself and you lean back slightly, exhaling through your nose, buying yourself a second. “It’s about paying attention,” you say slowly. “Reading reactions. Adjusting.”
His eyes don’t leave you. “That’s it?” You hesitate. Just for a second. Because the answer is simple. But the implication? Not so much. “Yeah,” you say, quieter now. And the way he’s looking at you now, really looking, like he’s trying to piece something together in real time, it sends something warm and restless curling low in your chest. “That doesn’t really help,” he admits after a second, voice just a little rougher and you almost laugh. Instead, you tilt your head, studying him, something flickering behind your eyes now, something a little more daring than before. “What do you want me to do, Yunho?” you ask, light but not entirely joking anymore and he stills. Because now he hears it too. That shift. That dangerous little edge your voice just picked up.
“I just….” he starts, then stops, like he suddenly realized exactly how this sounds. And maybe… exactly who he’s asking. Your best friend. The one person who knows you better than anyone. The one person you’ve both been carefully not crossing that line with for years. And now? He’s standing right on it. “I just want to get it right,” he finishes, quieter. And something about that, about the honesty in it, the vulnerability, makes your heart start pounding. Because yeah. That’s Yunho. Always wanting to do things right. Even this. Especially this. And suddenly, the idea that someone made him feel like he couldn’t? Pisses you off. “Okay,” you mutter, more to yourself than him, grabbing your iPad and unlocking it. The glow lights your face as you settle back against your pillows again, tucking one leg under you like you’re trying to return things to something normal. Something easy.
You scroll for a second, half paying attention, half aware of him still standing there, still watching you like he’s waiting for something, even if he doesn’t know what. “I still don’t see what you want me to do…” you say, glancing up at him briefly, tone light, teasing just a little again, like you’re trying to break the tension instead of lean into it. Then you add, with the faintest lift of your brow, something meant to be a joke. “Show you?” But the second it leaves your mouth, the air in the room shifts, sharp, immediate, like something just clicked into place that neither of you can ignore now and Yunho freezes. His eyes snap to yours, all that lingering frustration from earlier gone in an instant, replaced by something else entirely, something caught between surprise and something much, much heavier. And you feel it too. That flicker in your chest. The one that says maybe… you shouldn’t have said that. Or maybe…. Maybe you should have.
You try to brush it off, a quiet huff of a laugh leaving you as you look back down at your screen. “Relax, I’m kidding….” But you don’t get to finish. Because he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t deflect. Doesn’t move on like he normally would. “What if I wasn’t?” His voice is lower. Deeper. Rougher. And that stops you. Your eyes lift slowly from your iPad, locking onto his again. “Wasn’t what?” you ask, even though you already know and he swallows, the movement subtle but visible, like he’s trying to push past his own hesitation. “What if I wasn’t joking,” he says again, more clearly this time. “About you showing me.” There’s no humor in it. Just honesty. And suddenly, the room feels a little smaller. A little warmer. A little harder to breathe in.
Your fingers still against the edge of your iPad, screen forgotten, as you hold his gaze. The teasing, the easy back and forth, it’s gone now. Stripped away, leaving something a lot more real in its place. “Yunho,” you start, a warning and a question all at once. Because this isn’t just a joke anymore. “I’m serious,” he says, stepping a little further into the room without even realizing it, like something’s pulling him closer. “I just… I trust you. And you said it’s about paying attention, right? So…” He trails off, but the meaning hangs there anyway. You can feel your heartbeat picking up now, steady but heavier, your mind racing faster than you’d like it to. Because this is it. That line you’ve both been dancing around for years? It’s right here. Right in front of you. All it would take is one step….
You shift slightly against your pillows, exhaling slowly as you study him, really study him, his nervousness, the way his hands flex at his sides, the way he’s trying to act steady but isn’t quite pulling it off. He’s not joking. He’s not playing. He’s asking you. And maybe the most dangerous part? You don’t hate the idea. Not even a little. Maybe aching for it just a bit. “You’re really asking me that right now?” you murmur and he doesn’t look away this time. “Yeah.” For a second, you don’t answer. You just sit there, iPad still in your hands but completely forgotten, your thumb resting against the screen like you meant to keep scrolling and just… didn’t. Your eyes stay on him, searching, like you’re trying to read something deeper than what he’s actually saying.
Your best friend. The person who’s been there longer than anyone else. The one constant you’ve never had to question. The one you’ve spent years pretending you don’t feel too much for. And now he’s standing in your room, looking at you like that, like you’re the only option he wants. It makes your chest tighten. Because agreeing to this… it doesn’t just risk things getting complicated. It risks everything. You swallow, gaze flicking down for a second, then back up to him. He hasn’t moved. Still watching you, still waiting, like he’s already braced himself for you to say no. And that, more than anything, tips something inside you. “You’re serious,” you murmur again, quieter this time.
“Yeah.”
You let out a slow breath through your nose, heart thudding a little heavier now, your thoughts tangling together in a way that’s hard to sort through. You should say no. You should laugh it off, tell him to look it up, send him a link, anything that doesn’t involve…. “Okay,” you say finally and Yunho goes still like he wasn’t actually expecting you to say it and your grip tightens slightly on the edge of your iPad before you set it aside on your nightstand, the quiet click of it hitting the surface sounding louder than it should in the silence that follows. You don’t look at him right away. You need one more second. One more breath. “But,” you add, lifting your gaze back to his, something a little firmer settling into your expression now, like you’re drawing a line you’re not entirely sure you’ll be able to hold. “This is just practice.”
His brows knit slightly, like he’s processing that. “Nothing more,” you continue, voice steady even if your pulse isn’t. “We’re not…. this doesn’t change anything. Got it?” The words feel a little too deliberate. A little too much like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him. Yunho watches you for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes as he nods. “Yeah,” he says, just as quiet. “Just practice.” But there’s something there. Something neither of you says out loud. Because if this was really just practice… it wouldn’t feel like this. You nod once, more to yourself than him, then push yourself up slightly, adjusting against your pillows before you glance toward him again. “Then… come on.”
And that’s all it takes. Yunho moves. Slow at first, like he’s giving you time to change your mind, each step measured as he crosses the room toward your bed. But there’s tension in him now, nervous energy, anticipation, something tighter and more focused than before. He stops just at the edge, close enough now that you can see the faint flush still lingering across his ears, the way his hands flex slightly at his sides like he doesn’t quite know where to put them. And for a second, neither of you says anything. Tension thick in the air. You feel it settle into your skin, into your chest, into the way your breath comes just a little slower than it should.
This is happening. Actually happening. And once you start… there’s no pretending you didn’t. Your eyes flick up to his again, steady despite everything swirling underneath. “Relax. You’re overthinking it already.” He huffs out a quiet breath at that, something almost like a nervous laugh slipping through. “Yeah… I do that.”
“I know,” you say, and there’s a hint of something fond in it, something that slips out before you can stop it and Yunho hesitates for only a second before he moves again, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight as he climbs onto the bed. He sits at first, stiff, unsure, like he’s not entirely convinced this is real yet, hands resting awkwardly on his thighs, shoulders a little tense. “You know you have to…” you gesture lightly toward yourself, voice calm but pointed, “take my shorts and underwear off first, right?”
“Oh…. right,” he breathes, the word coming out a little too quick, a little too flustered. A faint flush creeps back up his neck, across his ears, and you swear it spreads deeper the longer he looks at you like that, like he’s suddenly very aware of where he is and what he’s about to do. And for all his confidence everywhere else… here? He’s completely out of his depth. Slowly, carefully, he shifts forward on the bed, moving closer until he’s between your legs, his hands hovering for a second like he’s not sure if he should touch you yet, even though you quite literally told him to. “Yunho,” you say, grounding him a little. “You’re allowed to touch me.”
His eyes flick up to yours at that and something in them steadies just a little. “Yeah,” he says quietly, more to himself than you. Then his hands finally move. Tentative at first, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of your shorts, like he’s testing the boundary even though you’ve already given him permission. There’s hesitation there, but also focus, the kind that comes from him actually trying, paying attention like you told him to. He hooks his fingers at the waistband of your shorts, glancing up at you once, like he’s silently asking if this is okay and you give a small nod. That’s all he needs before he slowly tugs the fabric down, careful, almost overly so, like he’s afraid of rushing it.
The movement is gentle, deliberate, and the closer he gets, the more his breathing changes, subtle, but noticeable, like the reality of it is settling in piece by piece. Your shorts slide down, followed by your panties, and for a second he just… pauses. Hands resting lightly against your legs, his gaze dropping, then flicking away, then back again like he doesn’t quite know where to look or how long is too long to be staring at his best friend’s pussy. It would almost be funny. If it wasn’t so… real. “Okay,” he mutters under his breath, like he’s trying to psych himself up and you can’t help it, a small, quiet breath of a laugh slips out of you, not mocking, just… soft. “Hey,” you say, voice gentler now, drawing his attention back up to your face. “Relax, remember?”
He exhales, tension easing just a fraction at the sound of your voice. “Right… relax.” But even as he says it, you can tell he’s anything but. Still, he shifts a little closer, hands settling more firmly now against your thighs, his focus sharpening again. Less hesitation. More intent. He’s trying. Really trying. And something about that, about the way he’s taking this seriously, the way he’s looking at you like this actually matters, almost makes you clench your thighs together because you can feel how wet you’re starting to get. Your fingers tighten slightly in the sheets beneath you, steadying yourself as much as him. “Good.”
Yunho’s hands hesitate again. Not because he doesn’t know what comes next, but because now it’s real in a way it wasn’t before. The line has already been crossed, quietly but undeniably, and there’s no pretending this is just some abstract idea anymore. From his angle, everything feels louder. Closer. The soft rise and fall of your breathing, the way your legs are relaxed but not entirely, the warmth of your skin under his hands, it all presses in on him at once, making his thoughts tangle for a second. Don’t mess this up. It’s the only thing looping in his head as he swallows, gaze dropping again, slower this time. His fingers shift, brushing lightly over your thighs again. Pay attention, he reminds himself. She said to pay attention.
He notices everything. The way your muscles tense just a little at the initial movement, then ease again. The shift in your breathing. The faint hitch you try to hide. It steadies him. Gives him something to hold onto as his gaze flicks up to your face again like he needs to check in, to make sure he’s not messing up already. And what he finds there doesn’t help. Because you’re watching him too. There’s something different in your expression now. Not just teasing, not just curiosity, something heavier. You’re trusting him. That thought hits harder than anything else.
From your side, the shift is just as clear. Yunho’s not joking anymore. Not nervous in that scattered, awkward way from before, no, this is different. Focused. Intent. Like once he stepped into this, something in him clicked, and now he’s all in. You swallow, fingers tightening slightly in the sheets beneath you. “You’re doing fine.” Yunho nods once, small but firm, taking that in like it matters more than it should. And then he shifts closer and you shift slightly beneath him, the movement small but enough to break the stillness that’s settled between you. Your fingers loosen in the sheets, then tighten again, grounding yourself as much as him. “You can…” you start, then pause for half a second, like even you didn’t expect the words to feel this heavy and his eyes flick up instantly. “you can show me what you know so far.”
The moment the words leave your mouth, the air shifts again. Yunho exhales slowly, his focus sharpening all over again, that nervous energy from before narrowing into something more controlled, more intentional. His hands adjust where they rest against your thighs, grip a little firmer now, like he’s anchoring himself before he does anything else. Don’t rush. Pay attention. He glances up at you one more time, just a quick check, and when you don’t pull away, don’t second guess it, something in him steadies. “Okay,” he murmurs. The hesitation doesn’t disappear completely but it changes. It becomes quieter, tucked underneath a kind of focus you’ve always known him for. The same way he locks in when he’s working, when he’s streaming, when he’s determined to get something right. Except now… it’s you.
Your breathing changes, just slightly and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker in response. He’s paying attention. Exactly like you told him to. Slowly, carefully, he leans in closer, his movements measured instead of rushed, like he’s testing each step instead of assuming it. There’s a quiet intensity to him now as he moves. It’s not hesitant this time, not really. It’s like the moment you gave him permission to try, something in him snapped into place, and now he’s acting on instinct more than overthinking. His heart is pounding harder than he wants to admit. Every nerve feels lit up, every thought tangled together in a mess of don’t mess this up and just do something. So when he leans in, mouth closing around your clit, he goes in too fast. Too much.
You gasp, your back tensing slightly against the pillows, fingers gripping the sheets but not entirely from surprise. There’s a flicker of something else there too, something that makes his chest tighten in a completely different way. “Okay….” you breathe, voice catching slightly before you steady it, one hand coming down to lightly touch his shoulder, grounding him. “Don’t just instantly start…” you stop yourself for half a second, exhaling. “Don’t just go all in like that.”
Yunho freezes. Every muscle in him locks up, his brain short circuiting so hard it’s almost audible. For a second, he just stays there, stunned, trying to process what he did wrong and how fast he managed to do it all while trying not to groan at the taste of you now on his tongue. “Start slow,” you tell him, your tone shifting from correction to guidance, more patient than anything else. “Work me up.” He exhales, the tension easing just a fraction, and nods once against you even though you probably can’t see it. His hands tighten slightly where they rest against your thighs, grounding himself again.
This time, when he moves, it’s different. More careful. Less rushed. He takes a second to actually watch you first, your face, your reactions, the way your breathing changes even before he really does anything. He starts smaller, more tentative, like he’s testing the pace instead of trying to get it right all at once. His tongue making small licks between your folds, grazing your clit before repeating and your body relaxes slightly under him, tension easing into something warmer, more receptive. The earlier sharpness softens, replaced by something slower, something that builds instead of crashes all at once as a moan escapes you and that gives him confidence. You feel it in the way his hands settle more firmly, the way his movements grow just a little steadier, like he’s starting to understand what you meant. Not perfect. Not polished. But learning. And more importantly, listening.
A quiet moan slips from you again, softer this time, less startled, more… genuine. “Yeah,” you murmur, barely above a whisper now. “Like that.” And that does something to Yunho. Hearing you moan in pleasure due to him with his tongue buried inside you, the taste of you alone has him so hard he has no idea how he’s staying focused. He shifts again, adjusting, following the subtle cues your body keeps giving him as you start to roll your hips a bit and suddenly he’s not thinking in the same scattered way anymore. The nerves are still there, sure, but they’re quieter now, pushed aside by something stronger and your breath catches, sharper than before, your body tensing for a split second before melting into it when he thrusts his tongue as far he can, nose pressed against your clit, the friction from it and his tongue working slow strokes makes the control you’ve been trying to hold onto slip and before you can stop yourself, your hand moves.
Your fingers tangle into his hair. The contact surprising both of you and it sends a jolt straight through Yunho making his dick twitch. His hands tighten where they’re holding your thighs. Your grip tightens slightly in his hair without thinking, your body reacting on its own, shifting just enough to follow what feels good, grinding fully now, pulling at his hair when you feel groan, your walls clenching at his tongue as a loud moan tears from you. And Yunho pulls his tongue back, licking a stripe all the way back up to your clit before sucking it into his mouth. He’s no longer just about trying to get it right, it’s about you. The way your breath keeps catching, the way your body won’t stay still anymore no matter how much you try to hold it together. The way your moans are getting louder. Because of him.
His hands tighten again, grounding you, but it’s not enough. not when your reactions start slipping past your control. Your fingers are still tangled in his hair, your grip tightening without you meaning to, your body shifting against him in a way that’s no longer subtle and borderline riding his mouth. And you feel it building. Fast. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, moving again, chasing the feeling without thinking and Yunho shifts one of his arms, sliding around your waist, holding you in place, not rough, but firm enough to steady you, to keep you from moving too much. And this? He wasn’t expecting this. Not like this.
And the added pressure of his arm around you, the way he’s holding you steady, only makes everything feel more intense, more overwhelming, like it’s pushing you closer to the edge you’ve been trying not to fall over since he walked into your room. Your grip tightens again in his hair, a sobbing cry slipping out of you that you definitely don’t manage to hide. Then Yunho pulls back. It’s not sudden, it’s like he realizes something mid motion and needs a second to breathe. His forehead comes to rest lightly against your thigh, his breath uneven now, a little heavier than before, like he’s trying to steady himself because verything feels… overwhelming. Not in a bad way. But in a way he wasn’t prepared for.
His pause almost throws you off. Your fingers loosen slightly in his hair, your breathing uneven as you try to come back down from where he just had you, your chest rising and falling a little too fast because you were so close. “Yunho…” you start, unsure if he’s stopping or just…. he moves again before you can finish. His hand shifts, sliding along your thigh again, more confident than before, less hesitant. Your fingers tighten back into his hair, your head tipping back into the pillows as you try and fail to stay quiet as he slips two of his fingers deep, brushing them up, curving them against your g spot and you realize he definitely wasn’t lying about how he knows how to use his fingers. “Don’t…. don’t stop,” you breathe, barely managing to get the words out.
Yunho keeps his head pressed to your thigh, watching his fingers thrust in and out of you, the wet sound echoing in the room, and he can see his aching dick twitching still in his sweats, the poor thing wanting nothing more than to replace his fingers as his hand tightens again in his hair, your other gripping the sheets, your breathing uneven now, moans and cries breaking out of you as he moves his mouth back down, keeping his fingers fucking you as he moans against your clit. “Fuck….. you’re…” your thoughts are jumbled but you register one thing, he’s really fucking good at eating pussy for someone who’s never had. “Yunho…” The sound of you moaning his name makes his gaze lift again, watching you now. And that’s when it hits him. This isn’t just practice anymore. The thought lands heavy in his chest, sharper than anything else so far. Because he knows you. And right now? You’re letting go in a way he’s never seen before because of him. Your best friend. Watching you come undone, legs shaking now, toes curling, your walls clenching his fingers, because of him.
He feels it before he fully understands it. Feels you clench his fingers again, wetness building, splashing his fingers and he knows then you’re about to come and he can feel himself start to grind, against the mattress, humping a little to get friction. “Yunho…” You cry his name out again as your orgasm slams into you. “FUCK….. please…. Oh my….. fuck eat my pussy….” your words are what does it for him. Yunho lets out a low strained sound as he moans against you, you still coming, squirting on his fingers that are still pumping into you faster, harder…… he comes, coming in his sweats, leaking down his own thighs as he finally pulls his fingers out of you and removes his mouth from your now slightly overstimulated clit.
Neither of you moves right away but then your hand loosens in his hair, falling back against the sheets as you try to catch your breath, your chest still rising unevenly, your thoughts struggling to settle into anything coherent. “Yeah…” you manage after a moment, still a little breathless despite your attempt to sound normal. You swallow, glancing at him, then away again. “That was… good.” It feels like an understatement and you both know it. And hearing you say that…. does something to Yunho. He looks at you for half a second, something unreadable passing through his expression before he looks away again, jaw tightening slightly. Because now he’s very aware of himself. Of everything.
He shifts back a little, creating space, one hand coming down almost instinctively, pressing lightly over the front of his sweats like he’s trying to ground himself, to hide it, to get a handle on it before it becomes too obvious that he came in his pants. “Yeah,” he exhales quietly, like he’s trying to steady his voice and not quite succeeding. He clears his throat slightly, pushing himself up off the bed, movements just a little too quick now, like he needs distance before he does something he shouldn’t. “I’m….. uh…” he starts, then huffs a quiet breath, running a hand through his hair again. “I’m gonna go shower.” He stops before walking out your bedroom. “Thanks. For the… practice,” he adds, the word sounding a little strained now, like even he doesn’t quite believe it anymore.
Practice. Right. That’s what this was supposed to be. You nod once, a little slower than usual, still watching him as he opens your bedroom door, like he’s not fully trusting himself to stay in the room any longer than necessary. “Yeah,” you breathe, clearing your own throat. “Anytime.” It slips out before you can stop it. And the second it does you feel it. The weight of it. And Yunho pauses again at the door. His hand resting against the frame, his back half turned to you like he’s debating something, like he might say something else. “Yeah,” he mutters, almost under his breath, then he’s gone. The sound of the bathroom door clicking shut down the hall echoes a little too loud in the apartment. And suddenly it’s just you. Lying there. Heart still racing. Body still warm. Mind spinning with one very clear, very dangerous thought…..
That definitely was not just practice.
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Yunho barely made it to the bathroom before shutting the door a little harder than he meant to. The click echoes, sharp in the quiet apartment, and for a second he just stands there, staring at nothing, chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile instead of… that. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. Get it together. But it doesn’t work. Because the second he steps under the shower, water hitting his skin, everything comes rushing back at once.
The way you moaned his name.
He squeezes his eyes shut, head tipping forward as the water runs over his hair, his face, like it might wash the memory out. It doesn’t. If anything, it makes it worse. Because now he’s remembering everything else. The way you sounded when you couldn’t hold it back anymore. The way you grinded against his face. The way you squirted. How tight you were around his fingers…. “Fuck…” he breathes under his breath, the word slipping out before he can stop it as his hand braces against the tile, knuckles whitening slightly as he tries to steady himself.
He drags in a sharp breath, the heat of the water doing nothing to calm the heat already burning under his skin. His jaw tightens, his free hand curling slightly at his side like he’s trying to ground himself, trying to get a handle on the way everything is still buzzing through him….. but then he thinks about your hand in his hair, gripping and pulling…. “Stop,” he mutters to himself, like he can actually cut it off. His head tips back slightly, water running down his face as he exhales hard through his nose, trying to focus on anything else, anything that isn’t you. But it’s pointless. Because you’re everywhere right now. In his head. In the way his chest feels too tight. In the way his body hasn’t even remotely calmed down. And that’s when it hits him, clearer than before. This wasn’t just about helping him. Not really.
Because no matter how much he tries to frame it that way, tries to convince himself that this was just learning, just practice…. It wasn’t. It never would be. Not to him. Not even a little. His grip tightens against the tile again, breath uneven as he stands there under the water, trying to ride it out, trying to let the intensity burn off without thinking too hard about why it’s there in the first place. Because if he does… if he really lets himself think about it then he has to face the truth he’s been avoiding for years. That this? This has never just been friendship. And now that line? It’s gone. “Fuck me.” He wraps his hand around himself, stroking slow at first, eyes closed and picturing you splayed out on your bed only this time he’s not deep diving into you with his tongue or fingers. He’s sinking into you, dick stretching you inch by inch….
“Fuck…” his strokes pick up, imagining himself pounding into you, your walls clenching him. Your voice this time instead of “eat my pussy” being a sobbing moan of “fuck my pussy” that makes his abs clench, his dick twitch and a groaning whimper to leave him as he comes. His forehead presses against the shower wall as he watches his cum mix with the water by his feet and wash away down the drain. For a moment, it works. The tension snaps, the overwhelming edge dulling just enough for him to breathe again. But the second it’s over it hits him again. Harder than before.
He exhales sharply, head dropping forward, forehead pressing against the cool tile as the water keeps running over his back, his shoulders, his neck. His chest rises and falls, slower now, but heavier. “I fucked up,” he groans under his breath, voice rough, barely audible over the water. You. His best friend. The one person he’s spent years not crossing that line with, no matter how many times he’s thought about it, no matter how many times he’s shoved those feelings down and told himself it wasn’t worth risking what you already had.
And now? Now he knows exactly what it feels like. Knows how you sound, how you taste, how your body… he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw tightening. “Fuck…” he exhales again. Because there’s no going back from that. No pretending it didn’t mean anything. Not when it felt like that. Not when he’s reacting like this. His hand drags down his face again, water dripping from his hair, his lashes, his jaw as he tries to steady himself, tries to think of any version of this that doesn’t end in things getting complicated. But every path leads to the same place. You. “Shit….” He shakes his head because he doesn’t give a shit that Chile broke up with him. He never really did anyways. His ego was just a little bruised that’s all. Because now there’s only one thing on his mind.
He wants to have you moaning his name again.
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The next morning feels… off.
Not in a loud, obvious way. Nothing dramatic. The sun still rises over Florida like it always does, warm and blinding through the blinds. Your alarm still goes off too early, your routine still runs on autopilot, scrubs, hair up, coffee barely tasted on the way out the door. But something’s different. You didn’t see Yunho before you left. His door stayed shut. The apartment was quiet in that heavy, almost deliberate way, like both of you were avoiding the same thing without saying it out loud. You paused for a second before leaving, hand hovering near his door like you might knock but you didn’t.
And now, hours later, you’re paying for it. The hospital hums around you like it always does, monitors beeping, voices overlapping, the constant movement of nurses and doctors weaving through the halls. It’s familiar. Usually grounding. Today? It’s just noise. You’re physically there, checking charts, moving from patient to patient, responding when needed, but mentally? You’re somewhere else entirely. Back in your room. Back in that moment.
Your pen hovers over a chart for a second too long, your eyes unfocused as the memory flashes again, his voice, his fingers, the way he looked at you after, the way he said thanks like that somehow made it normal.
“Hey.” A hand snaps lightly in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N.” You blink, snapping back so abruptly it almost feels like surfacing from underwater. Your eyes refocus, landing on Wooyoung standing in front of you, arms crossed, one brow raised in that way that means he’s already clocked everything. “What?” you mutter, a little slower than usual and Wooyoung’s eyes narrow slightly, studying you like you’re a suspicious patient instead of his coworker. “You tell me. You’ve been zoning out all day.”
You glance down at the chart in your hands like it might defend you. “I’m working.”
“Mhm,” he hums, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been staring at that same page for, like, a full minute.” You sigh under your breath, shifting your weight slightly, trying to shake it off. “Long shift.”
“Bullshit.”
You look up at him properly this time, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse me?” Wooyoung doesn’t budge. If anything, he leans in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to keep it between the two of you. “I’ve seen you after long shifts,” he says, tone casual but eyes sharp. “You’re tired, yeah, but you’re not… whatever this is.” He gestures vaguely at you. “You look like your brain is buffering.” You huff out a quiet breath despite yourself, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”
“Right,” he says, dragging the word out in a way that makes it very clear he does not believe you. “And I’m the head surgeon.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it as Wooyoung watches you for another second, expression shifting slightly, less teasing now, more observant. “Okay, so what happened?” You hesitate just ust for a second. And that’s all he needs. “Oh my god,” he says immediately, eyes lighting up with realization. “Something did happen.”
“Nothing happened,” you shoot back a little too quickly and he leans back slightly, arms crossing again, a slow, knowing grin starting to creep onto his face. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” You don’t answer. Because you know he’s right. And because if you open your mouth right now… you’re not entirely sure what’s going to come out. Wooyoung tilts his head, studying you again, curiosity fully locked in now. You look away immediately, jaw tightening slightly as you busy yourself with the chart again, anything to avoid his eyes.
Because how are you supposed to explain this? How are you supposed to say, I helped my best friend by letting him eat my pussy and now I can’t stop thinking about him and everything feels different, like that’s a normal thing to say in the middle of a hospital hallway. “It’s nothing,” you mutter again, weaker this time but Wooyoung doesn’t buy it for a second. He steps a little closer, voice dropping just enough to be dangerous. “Whatever it is,” he says, eyes narrowing slightly, “it’s definitely not nothing.”
You don’t answer him. Instead, you sit your charts down and grab his wrist. “Hey…. what the…” Wooyoung stumbles slightly as you yank him down the hall, his sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floor as he tries to keep up. “Are you kidnapping me on shift right now? Because I’m pretty sure that’s illegal…”
“Shut up,” you mutter under your breath, not even looking back as you push through the double doors toward the labs. It’s quieter there, cooler too. The hum of machines replaces the chaos of the main floor, and for once, there’s no one around. You let go of him once you’re inside, pacing once, twice, like you’re trying to physically walk off the tension sitting under your skin and Wooyoung just stands there, staring at you like you’ve officially lost it. “Okay,” he says slowly, dragging the word out, arms crossing over his chest. “You’re either about to confess to a crime or tell me something insane.”
“I did something,” you say finally and Wooyoung’s eyes light up immediately. “Oh, I know you did. Get to the good part.” You glare at him and he holds his hands up. “I’m listening, I’m listening.” You exhale sharply, dragging a hand through your hair, already regretting this and needing to say it anyway. “Yunho came to me last night,” you start, voice lower now, more controlled but there’s something underneath it, something a little too charged to be casual which makes Wooyoung’s grin sharpen. “Your roommate Yunho? Your best friend Yunho?”
“Yes, Wooyoung, the only Yunho I know…. can you let me finish?”
He mimes zipping his mouth shut, but the excitement is very much still there as you take another breath. “He told me his newest girlfriend dumped him,” you continue. “Good,” Wooyoung cuts in immediately. “Don’t like any of them.”
“Not the point,” you snap, though you agree.
“Right, right….. continue.”
You hesitate again. “She dumped him because he’s never… done that before.”
Wooyoung blinks, confused. “Done what?” You stare at him and stares back. “You know…. eaten…. pussy before.”
“Oh my….” his eyes go wide, his entire posture straightening like he just got hit with electricity. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was,” you mutter as Wooyoung lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand over his face. “No way. No way that man made it to twenty six without…”
“I know,” you cut in, already pacing again. “That’s what I said.”
“That’s insane,” he says, almost impressed. “That’s…. wow. Okay.” You stop again. Because this is the part. The part where you either keep it surface level… or don’t. “He asked me how to do it,” you say, quieter now and Wooyoung tilts his head, still following, still amused. “Okay… that tracks, I guess. You’re you. You’d know.” You don’t respond right away and that’s what makes his expression slowly change. “Why do I feel like that’s not the end of the story,” he says slowly.
You press your lips together and look at the floor. “I didn’t just tell him. Wooyoung stares at you, brows furrowed. “You didn’t just tell him,” he repeats and you shake your head. “I let him practice on me.” The room goes completely still. For a solid three seconds, Wooyoung just stares at you like his brain has short circuited. “You what?” You throw your hands up slightly, already defensive. “It was supposed to be just practice.”
“JUST PRACTICE?” he repeats, voice jumping an octave before he clamps it down, glancing toward the door like someone might hear. He steps closer, lowering his voice but not the intensity. “You let your best friend, who you live with… practice eating pussy on you?” You wince slightly. “When you say it like that….”
“How else am I supposed to say it?” he demands, incredulous. “That’s exactly what it is!” You drag a hand down your face. “I know, okay? I know. It just… it didn’t feel like a big deal at first and then it just… happened.” Wooyoung stares at you, eyes wide, trying to process. “And?” he presses.
“And it wasn’t just practice,” you admit.
“Define wasn’t just practice…” he says carefully and you exhale slowly, your gaze dropping again. “It was… good,” you murmur. “Like…. really good. And he…” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter. The point is… it felt like more.” Wooyoung doesn’t interrupt this time. He just watches you. “And now I don’t know what the hell to do,” you finish, finally looking back up at him. Wooyoung studies you for a second, all the teasing gone now. “You’re in love with him,” he says flatly.
Your stomach drops as Wooyoung exhales, running a hand through his hair, processing everything all over again but this time with a completely different lens. “And you let him do that,” he mutters, more to himself now. “I didn’t plan it,” you shoot back. “I know,” he says quickly, holding up a hand. “I know. I’m just…. wow. Okay.” He looks at you again. “What did he say after?”
“He…. thanked me,” you say, almost bitterly. “For the practice. Then went to shower.”
“Oh, he’s stupid,” Wooyoung sighs. And despite everything, a small, incredulous laugh slips out of you. “You think?”
“Yeah,” he nods, dead serious. “Because if he thinks that was just practice, he’s either lying to himself… or he’s about to have the same crisis you are.”
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A couple days later, things feel… normal again. Or at least, they look normal.
From the outside, nothing’s changed. You and Yunho fall back into your routine like it’s muscle memory, passing each other in the kitchen, sharing late night takeout, sitting on opposite ends of the couch while something mindless plays in the background. You still talk, still joke, still exist in that same comfortable orbit you always have. But there’s something underneath it now. Something neither of you touches. You don’t bring it up. He doesn’t bring it up. So it just… sits there. Unspoken. And the more you both pretend it didn’t happen, the louder it gets in the silence.
Now Yunho’s alone. The apartment is quiet in that hollow way it only is when you’re not there, no soft background noise, no movement in the other room, no you. Just him, the faint hum of his setup, and way too much space for his thoughts to bounce around in. He texted Chloe. Thought maybe he could smooth things over, fix it, prove to himself that nothing had changed. That what happened with you didn’t mean anything more than what you both said it was.
So he met up with her. Told himself it was fine. Normal. But the second things started getting even remotely close to that territory again… it felt wrong. Not bad. Just… off. From Yunho’s perspective, it was like trying to follow a script he suddenly didn’t believe in anymore. The way she talked, the way she reacted, it all felt rehearsed somehow, like she was performing instead of actually feeling anything. And the worst part? He couldn’t stop comparing it to you.
The way you sounded, unfiltered, unplanned. The way you felt. The way you trusted him enough to let go like that. The sound of his name like sin and honey on your tongue. And no matter how much he tried to ignore it, it just… kept getting louder. Even the small things. The way Chloe moved. The way she responded. The way everything felt… It didn’t match. Didn’t even come close. And for some reason, he couldn’t shake it. By the time he left, he felt worse than before. More confused. More frustrated. Because now it’s not just about what happened with you. It’s about the fact that nothing else feels right anymore unless it’s with you.
When he got home, Yunho dropped onto the couch, dragging both hands over his face with a frustrated exhale. “What the hell is wrong with me…” he muttered under his breath. It’s not just that it was good with you. It’s that it felt different. Like something clicked into place that he didn’t even realize was missing before. He leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, jaw tight as he tried to piece it together in a way that makes sense other than the obvious.
He’s in love with you. Always had been.
“Fuck,” he exhales, sharper this time, one hand coming up to press against his forehead. Because he knows. He knows what the answer is. He just doesn’t want to say it out loud.
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Yunho tries to distract himself. He really does. Headset on, controller in hand, screen glowing in front of him, it’s the easiest way to shut his brain off, to fall back into something familiar where he doesn’t have to think too hard about anything outside of the game. For a little while, it works. His voice slips back into that easy, relaxed tone, laughing here and there, throwing out comments without really thinking. The rhythm of it is second nature, callouts, reactions, the occasional trash talk. Normal. But it doesn’t last. Because his mind isn’t fully in it. Not when you’re still sitting somewhere in the back of it, stubborn and loud no matter how much he tries to push it down.
“Hey,” one of the guys in his headset laughs, cutting through the game noise. “I’m telling you, bro, last night? Crazy.”
Yunho hums absently, not really paying attention. “Yeah?”
“Yeah…. she had me laid out, man. Like, fully…” the guy laughs again, unfiltered, “had me flat while she was on top riding my face like it was her mission, I’m not even kidding.” There’s a chorus of reactions, laughter, teasing, someone making a joke about him finally getting humbled and Yunho chuckles faintly at first, automatic.
But then his mind catches on it. And everything goes sideways. The thought of you like that, the way you’d look on top of him, the way he’d give in and let you have control…. his grip tightens slightly on the controller, his jaw setting as he tries to shove it away just as fast as it came.
“Yunho? You still there?” someone calls through his headset. “Yeah,” he answers quickly, a little too quick, clearing his throat as he tries to refocus on the screen. “I’m here.” But he’s not. Because now his thoughts are spiraling again, faster this time, harder to control. He drags in a quiet breath, trying to lock back into the game, but it’s useless. His mind keeps circling back, pulling him deeper into it whether he wants to go there or not. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, barely audible over the mic.
“Bro, what?” one of them laughs. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Yunho says again, but this time it comes out rougher, distracted. Because now he’s stuck in it, stuck in that loop of thoughts he can’t seem to shut off, the line between what happened and what he wants blurring more and more the longer he sits there. And the realization creeping in underneath it all? It’s getting harder to ignore. “I gotta hop off,” he mutters suddenly.
“What? We just started…”
“Yeah, I’ll catch you later,” he cuts in, already pulling his headset off before they can argue and the room falls quiet as he leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, hands hanging between them as he stares at the floor, jaw tight. He doesn’t just want to pretend it didn’t happen. He doesn’t just want to move on.
He wants you.
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The front door clicks open as you step inside like you always do, bag slipping off your shoulder, keys dropped into the bowl by the door, the familiar weight of a long shift still clinging to you. The apartment feels the same. Looks the same. But you already know better. Because the second you walk in you feel it. That subtle tension in the air, like something’s been waiting…..
“Can you show me how to let a girl ride my face?”
Your brain doesn’t even process it at first, like it short circuits halfway through the sentence, trying to decide if you actually heard him correctly. “Jesus fucking Christ, Yunho!”
He wasn’t planning to say that. Not like that. Not the second you walked in the door, still in your scrubs, barely even inside the apartment. But the thought’s been stuck in his head for the last hour, looping, getting louder, mixing with everything else he’s been trying and failing to ignore. Now he’s standing there, frozen in place, staring at you like he might actually combust on the spot. “I….” he starts, then stops, running a hand through his hair hard enough to mess it up all over again. “That… came out wrong.”
“Came out wrong?” you repeat slowly, blinking at him like you’re trying to decide if this is real or if you’re still at work and hallucinating from exhaustion. “Okay, not wrong… just….” he exhales sharply, pacing once like he physically can’t stand still under your stare. “I didn’t mean to just say it like that, I just…” He cuts himself off again, clearly spiraling. “You just got home,” he mutters, like that somehow explains it, gesturing vaguely toward you before dragging a hand down his face again. “I wasn’t…. planning to…”
“You weren’t planning to ask me how to let someone ride your face?” you cut in, incredulously and he stops pacing. “When you say it like that, it sounds…”
“It sounds exactly like what you said,” you shoot back and silence hits the room before Yunho hesitates and breaks it. “I tried with Chloe,” he says finally and your irritation fades, replaced by something sharper. More focused. “And?” you ask, quieter now, and Yunho huffs a humorless breath, shaking his head. “It wasn’t the same.” From his perspective, saying it out loud makes it worse. Because now it’s not just a thought. It’s real. He glances at you again, holding your gaze this time instead of avoiding it. “Nothing about it felt the same,” he admits, voice lower now, more controlled, but there’s something underneath it, something heavier.
“You’ve been in my head all day,” he adds before he can stop himself, the words slipping out quieter this time, less frantic but somehow more dangerous. “And I can’t—” he cuts himself off, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know how to just go back to normal after that.”
“So instead,” you say slowly, heart pounding, “you ask me that the second I walk through the door?”
“Yeah,” Yunho admits, a little helplessly. And somehow, that’s worse. Because he’s not joking. Not deflecting. Not hiding behind anything. He’s just being honest. And that realization settles deep in your chest, heavy and impossible to ignore. Because if he’s being honest… for a second, you just stand there, still in your scrubs, bag hanging off your shoulder, heart beating a little too fast for how still you’re trying to look. Because you could push this deeper. You could ask him what he meant, why he’s thinking about you like that, why he can’t let it go. But that would mean admitting you can’t either.
“Well,” you say, exhaling through your nose like you’re brushing it off, even though your chest feels anything but calm. You drop your bag onto the chair by the door, kicking your shoes off like this is just another normal night. “Come on.”
“Come on?” he repeats, like he’s not sure he heard you right. You glance at him over your shoulder, already heading toward your room, that same dangerous calm settling into your voice again. “You asked, didn’t you?” you say simply and his brain stalls for half a second before his body catches up, pushing off the wall and following you without even thinking about it. There’s tension in his steps now, something tighter, more focused, because this is happening again. You feel him behind you before you even see him, the weight of his presence making everything feel smaller, warmer, more charged than it should.
You step into your room, turning to face him as he stops just inside the doorway, that same mix of anticipation and nerves written all over him as you cross your arms loosely, leaning back against the edge of your bed. “For the record,” you add, a little more casually than you feel, “I’ve only done this once.” Yunho’s brows pull together slightly. “Yeah?” You nod once, gaze flicking away for a second like you’re debating whether to say more. “With my ex.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens without him even realizing it, something sharp flashing behind his eyes at the mention of him. He never liked that guy. Not even a little. “Of course it was,” he mutters under his breath and you huff out a quiet humorless laugh. “Yeah, well… it didn’t exactly go great.”
“What do you mean?”
You shrug, but there’s an edge to it now, something a little more honest slipping through. “I mean he barely let it last five minutes before he started complaining.” Yunho’s expression darkens. “Complaining?” he repeats, incredulously. “Yeah,” you nod, rolling your eyes slightly. “Said it was weird. Too much work. Told me to stop before I could even….” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “Doesn’t matter.” But it does. Because now Yunho’s not just thinking about what he wants. He’s thinking about that. About someone else being in that position with you and not even trying. Not paying attention. Not caring enough to let you actually come. “That’s…” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “That’s stupid.”
You glance at him, a small, almost amused smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “Yeah. I figured that out.” But the way he’s looking at you now? It’s not amused. It’s focused. Intent. Like he’s already decided something. “Well,” you say, pushing yourself off the bed slightly, that same teasing edge creeping back in just enough to mask the tension. “Guess you’ll have to do better than him.”
Yunho huffs out a quiet breath, something almost like a disbelieving laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah,” he says, stepping further into the room, gaze locked on you now. “I think I can manage that.” You have to keep your thighs from clenching when you see his eyes darken. Your hands go to the waistband of your scrub pants, fingers brushing the fabric as you try to keep your breathing even, your expression neutral, like this isn’t a big deal, like this isn’t the second time you’re about to cross a line you’ve both been avoiding for years. The fabric shifts as you push your scrubs down, the movement simple, routine, something you’ve done a thousand times before after long shifts.
Yunho’s watching, quiet, still, but completely locked in. And there’s something different about him now. The hesitation from the first time? It’s still there, but it’s buried under something else, something more focused, more certain. His gaze tracks every small movement you make, every shift of fabric, every breath you take like he’s trying to memorize it. You step out of your scrubs, pushing them aside, leaving you standing there in your bra and panties for a second longer than necessary, like your body hasn’t quite caught up with your brain yet.
Yunho exhales quietly, like he’s been holding his breath without realizing it and you glance up at him, finally meeting his eyes, and for a second neither of you says anything. Because you both feel it. That shift. That this isn’t the same as the first time. “You still sure you want me to show you?” you ask and he answers without hesitation. “Yeah.” You shift your weight slightly, forcing yourself to stay grounded, even as everything about this feels anything but steady. Your gaze flicks over him once, quick, almost instinctive, before you look away again, like if you stare too long you’ll start thinking about it too much. “You should probably take your shirt off,” you say, voice coming out calmer than you feel. “It could get… messy.”
The words hang there for a second before Yunho blinks and huffs out a quiet breath, something almost like a nervous laugh slipping through, even as his hands move without hesitation to the hem of his shirt. “Right,” he mutters as his fingers catch the fabric, pulling it up and over his head in one smooth motion, something he’s done a thousand times before, something you’ve seen a thousand times before. It shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s never been a big deal. You’ve seen him like this before. Late nights, lazy mornings, passing each other in the apartment like it’s nothing. It’s always been easy.
Your eyes flick back to him before you can stop them, catching on the way his shoulders shift as he drops the shirt somewhere behind him, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the tension sitting just under his skin like he’s holding himself together by a thread. Your breath stutters just slightly, and you have to look away again after staring way too long at his happy trail, swallowing as you try to pull yourself back together. You’ve seen this before. But your brain doesn’t believe that anymore as he steps a little closer, not rushing, but not holding back either, closing some of the space between you like he’s done thinking about it and just… moving forward now.
“Okay,” he says, voice a little rougher than before and you climb onto the bed first, shifting back toward the headboard, giving him space. Yunho follows a second later, slower this time, not unsure, but aware. More aware than he was that first time. He watches you as he gets on, like he’s trying to read every movement, every decision you make. This time, he doesn’t sit. He lays back and settles against the mattress, head near your pillows, eyes still on you, chest rising and falling a little heavier than normal. “If you need me to get up,” you say, a little more careful than before, “just let me know.” Yunho’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Okay.”
Your fingers hook at the waistband of your panties, your breath catching as your mind tries once more to catch up with what you’re about to do. This is a bad idea. The thought flickers but you ignore it. Because the second you glance at him again, really look at him, the way he’s watching you, the way there’s no uncertainty left in his expression, just something deeper, something wanting…..
You push your panties all the down, tossing them on the floor and Yunho’s hands come up without thinking when you move closer, settling at your thighs again, firmer than before. Not stopping you. Not guiding you. Just… holding. Grounding himself in the reality of what’s happening. Your fingers grip the headboard above you, steadying yourself, your breath uneven as you settle there, every nerve suddenly aware of him, of the space, of the fact that this is happening again but not in the same way. Not even close. Because this time you’re not just showing him. And he’s not just learning.
You start to lower yourself slowly. Your fingers tighten around the headboard, grounding yourself, keeping control of the pace as you hover just above him once he lays down. Your breathing is uneven now, chest rising a little faster as you try not to think too hard about what you’re doing. About who you’re doing it with. You keep your grip firm, easing down carefully, deliberately holding yourself there, not fully committing yet, like you’re still giving both of you one last second to back out and Yunho’s hands tighten on your thighs without warning, grip firm. stronger than before and before you can fully control the pace anymore he pulls you down.
The sudden movement steals the breath right out of you, your grip on the headboard tightening instantly, your body jolting at the unexpected shift. “Yunho….” his name slips out before you can stop it, sharp and surprised. He starts slower than you expect. His hands grip your thighs, anchoring you in place, holding you steady like he doesn’t trust you to stay there on your own, not anymore. Not when you’re already reacting like this the second his tongue thrusted up into you. And it hits him almost immediately. That difference. That clarity. He wasn’t crazy. You taste so good he feels his eyes roll back and a moan, deep and almost growling leaves him, vibrating against you.
“Oh… oh my….” You’re whimpering now, still gripping the headboard, legs feeling heavy where they are caged around his head. His nose is rubbing at your clit, tongue curving up into you…. then you start to move. Not even on purpose at first, just instinct, chasing the feeling, trying to stay grounded and failing at it completely and a low, rough sound slips out of Yunho again before he can stop it, something deeper than before. It sounds like he’s gone as his hands tighten again, pulling you even closer, not letting you pull away, not letting you control the pace anymore.
He exhales sharply, tongue pulling out to move up, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking it into his mouth and keeping it there as you cry out and really start rocking against his face. “Fuck…. right there… Yunho… don’t stop” your begging and pleading seems to only make him more pussy drunk. His dick is hard, he can feel it twitching, precum leaking and staining his sweats. And before he can even register what he’s saying, he pulls back just enough to mumble, “your pussy taste so fucking good.” Then he thrusts his tongue back into you, moaning loud at the taste of you. And his words make it build faster.
You can feel it, tight , overwhelming, impossible to ignore now. Every movement pushes you closer, your grip on the headboard turning almost desperate as your body stops listening to anything except the need to chase it. You’re not thinking anymore. Not about the line you crossed. Not the fact your best friend is eating your pussy like it’s his last meal. Not about anything except the way everything is pulling tighter and tighter….. and then you glance down. Just for a second. And you see him. The way he’s completely gone, hands gripping you, holding you there like he doesn’t want to lose this, like he doesn’t want to lose you in this moment. The way his chest is rising unevenly, the tension in him obvious, unhidden now.
And the moans he makes… low, deep and unfiltered….. and then you look back, see the length of him hard in his sweats, watch his dick leaking against the fabric, twitching… your hands drop from the headboard without thinking, tangling into his hair instead, gripping tight as everything finally breaks. Your breath shatters into something you can’t control, your body tensing hard as the feeling crashes over you all at once. “YUNHO…” you pull at his hair as you come, riding it out literally. Your hips move, grinding frantically against his face and he lets you. Loves it.
You’re barely coming back down when, thighs shaking, when you hear him let out the whiniest, neediest sound you’ve ever heard. Because just the feel of you riding his face, the taste of you dripping on his tongue, he feels his dick twitch once, twice….. and then he’s coming too. Untouched and aching. It’s overwhelming in a way he didn’t expect, his thoughts completely scattered, his body reacting before he can even process it, the intensity of the moment pulling everything out of him whether he’s ready for it or not. Fuck.
He groans again under his breath, quieter this time, but no less affected, his forehead pressing against your inner thigh now as he tries to steady himself, tries to come back down from something that hit way harder than he was prepared for as you slide away first. The movement is slow, almost reluctant, creating space between you where there hadn’t been any moments before. The room feels strangely quiet now. Not peaceful. Just… full. Your pulse is still trying to settle as you sit back against the headboard, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
Across from you, Yunho remains exactly where he is, sprawled on the mattress, staring at the ceiling like he’s forgotten how to move. For a second, you almost laugh. Not because anything is funny. But because he looks completely dazed. “Yunho?” You glance down and see that obvious stain on his sweats, his dick still hard despite the orgasm that ripped out of him. His chest rises and falls slowly as you feel your heart ready to run from your body. “Yunho, you good?” A knot forms low in your stomach. “Hey.”
This time his eyes close briefly. Not avoiding you. Just bracing. When they open again, something has changed. The uncertainty that’s followed him for days is gone. The nervousness. The excuses. Slowly, he sits up and the mattress shifts beneath his weight as you watch him carefully. “Yunho?” His gaze finds yours, voice low and hesitant. “It isn’t practice anymore.” The words land between you like a dropped match and your breath catches as your brows furrow. “What?”
For a second, he looks away and you see his throat work as he swallows. And suddenly the confident, easygoing Yunho you’ve known for years looks terrified. Not of you. But of telling the truth. “I didn’t need to practice that,” he says quietly and the confession sounds almost ridiculous now that it’s out in the open and a humorless laugh escapes him. “Not really.” Your heart pounds harder. “Then why…”
“I just…” He stops and runs a hand through his hair. “just wanted you again.” The world outside the room might as well not exist anymore after that confession. You stare at him as he stares at the floor a minute before his gaze lifts back to yours. “I tried to pretend it didn’t mean anything.” His voice is rough now. Honest in a way you’ve almost never heard before. “I tried to go back to normal. I met up with Chloe….. and all I could do was compare everything to you.” The admission leaves him looking almost angry. Not at you but at himself. “Every conversation.” He laughs once, short and bitter. “Every stupid thing.” His eyes lock onto yours. “And I realized I didn’t care that she dumped me.”
Your breath catches as Yunho stands and walks until he’s close enough that neither of you can pretend this conversation is casual anymore. “I’ve spent years telling myself not to do this.” His voice softens. “Because you’re my best friend. But I think I’ve been in love with you for so long that I forgot what it felt like not to be.” The room goes completely still. And suddenly every excuse you’ve both been hiding behind falls apart at once. No more lessons. No more practice. No more pretending.
For a moment, you don’t say anything. Not because you don’t have an answer. Not because you don’t feel it too. But because your brain completely short circuits. You’ve imagined this conversation before. More times than you’d ever admit. Late nights. Long drives. Quiet moments where Yunho smiled at you a certain way and you wondered. But those were fantasies. This is real. And somehow, reality hits harder.
Yunho watches the silence stretch. One second. Two. Three. Long enough for doubt to creep in and you see it happen. The way his shoulders tense. The way something guarded settles over his expression. Like he’s already preparing himself for the answer he doesn’t want and his gaze drops as he lets out a quiet laugh that sounds painful around the edges. “Right.”
“Yunho….”
“It’s fine.” It isn’t. You can hear that immediately as he takes a step back. Then another. Putting distance between you before you can even process what’s happening. “Just forget I said anything.” The words hit like a punch and your eyes widen. “What?” He shakes his head. A small smile appearing on his face, but it’s all wrong. Forced and tight. The kind people wear when they’re trying not to let something hurt. “We can just go back to normal.”
“Yunho….”
“I’m serious.” His voice is quiet now. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” Then he turns and walks out, bedroom door staying open behind him. And for a second, you just sit there. Frozen. Staring after him. Your heart pounding so hard it feels impossible to breathe. Because what just happened? The realization crashes into you all at once. Yunho loves you. Yunho is in love with you. And somehow, because you were too shocked to speak, he thinks you don’t feel the same.
“Are you kidding me?” You scramble off the bed so fast you nearly trip over the sheets. Your discarded panties are still scattered on the floor from. You snatch them up and pull them on while practically hopping across the room. “Idiot.” You aren’t even sure if you’re talking about him or yourself. Maybe both. By the time you reach the doorway, your pulse is racing. The apartment suddenly feels too big. Too long. Too far away. You find him in the living room.
Yunho is standing near the couch with both hands planted on his hips, staring out the window like he’s trying to figure out how to survive the next ten minutes. He doesn’t turn around when he hears you. Which hurts more than it should. Because Yunho always turns around when it’s you. “Yunho.” His shoulders tense as you march farther into the room. “Yunho.” This time he exhales slowly.
“You don’t have to say anything.” The quiet resignation in his voice makes your chest ache as he finally looks over his shoulder. And the look on his face almost breaks your heart. Because he’s already convinced himself. Already decided what your silence meant. Already started mourning something he never even got a chance to have. And suddenly all the shock leaves your body. “You absolute fucking idiot.”
His brows immediately pull together. “Excuse me?”
“I was in shock.” Now it’s your turn to be frustrated. “You just told me you’ve been in love with me for years! I didn’t know what to say!” He stares at you, frozen, trying to process. And when he doesn’t respond immediately, you throw your hands up. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say something?” The room goes completely silent. And Yunho’s expression changes. First disbelief. Then hope. “What?”
Your heart pounds. But now that you’ve started, there’s no stopping. “No, seriously.” You laugh once. “I have spent years trying not to be in love with you.” This time it’s Yunho who goes completely speechless and just stares at you. Like his brain has completely stopped working. Your confession hangs between you, raw and impossible to take back as you cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing in the middle of your apartment wearing just your bra and panties and a racing heartbeat. “Honestly?” you scoff. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”
His brows knit together. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” you say, throwing your hands up, “I’ve been trying to get your attention for years.”
Yunho blinks. “Years?”
“Yes, years.”
His expression shifts from stunned to suspicious. “What are you talking about?”
You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Five months ago.” The second you say it, something flashes across his face. Recognition. “You remember.” His jaw tightens. Of course he remembers. A week before you’d finally broken up with your ex. Yunho had come home earlier than expected. Walked through the apartment door. And immediately wished he hadn’t. The memory hits him with perfect clarity. The television running in the background. Your moan. Your ex under you while rode him on the couch. The way you’d looked up when the door opened. The way Yunho’s stomach had dropped so hard he’d thought he might actually be sick.
He remembers forcing a smile. Muttering something about grabbing food. Pretending none of it bothered him. Pretending he hadn’t spent the rest of the night locked in his room trying not to think about it. Trying not to think about you. Or how he wanted to snatch your ex up and throw him out the window. His eyes narrow. Slowly. Dangerously. “What about it?” You hesitate for the first time since chasing him out here. Then you sigh. Because apparently you’re both doing honesty tonight. “I knew you were coming home.”
Yunho goes completely still and heart immediately starts pounding harder. “So?” he asks. The word comes out lower than before. Dangerous. Dark. “So I wanted you to see. I wanted…” You wince. “I wanted you to get jealous.” Yunho’s jaw clenches. “What?” Your confidence evaporates instantly. “I don’t know!” you snap, mortified. “I wasn’t thinking clearly!” His eyes remain locked on yours. “That was your plan?”
“It was a terrible plan.”
“It was a terrible plan.”
“I know!”
“You deliberately….”
“Yes.”
“To make me jealous.”
“Yes.”
The silence that follows is almost comical as Yunho drags a hand down his face. Then another. Like he’s trying to process the level of insanity he’s dealing with. And when he looks at you again, there’s something different in his expression now. Something darkly amused. Something that makes your stomach flip. “Five months.” You point a finger at him. “Don’t.”
“Five months,” he repeats.
“Yunho.”
“You spent five months thinking I wasn’t interested.”
“Well, you never said anything!”
“And your solution was psychological warfare?”
Your mouth falls open. “I was desperate!”
That does it. A laugh finally escapes him. Short and disbelieving. He shakes his head. Then his gaze drags slowly over you. And suddenly every bit of humor fades from his face. Because now he understands. All of it. The mixed signals. The frustration. The years of almosts. The fact that the two of you have apparently been running in circles around each other for ages. His eyes meet yours again and his voice drops. Low enough that it catches you completely off guard. “You fucking brat.” The second the word leaves his mouth, Yunho sees it. That tiny reaction. The way your breath catches. The way your eyes widen for half a second before you try to hide it.
And because he’s known you for years, because he’s spent years paying attention to things nobody else notices, he catches it immediately and a slow smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Oh.”
“Oh?” you repeat weakly and his smirk grows. “That’s interesting.”
Heat floods your face. “Don’t.”
“You like that.”
“Yunho.”
“You do.” The confidence in his voice is unbearable. Not because he’s teasing. But because he’s right. And the worst part? He knows it. You watch him take a step closer. Then another. The distance between you shrinking until it feels impossible to think straight. “A brat trying to drive me insane” he says and your pulse pounds in your ears. “Yunho…” He stops directly in front of you. Close enough that you can see every tiny shift in his expression.
“Baby, you like that, don’t you?”
You open your mouth but nothing comes out. No denial. No argument. No sarcastic comeback. Just silence. Because for once, you don’t have one after hear him calling you baby. Yunho’s eyes flick briefly to your lips before returning to your gaze and yhe realization hits both of you at the same time. “Fuck,” you breathe before you reach up to grab at the back of his neck. Yunho barely has time to look surprised before you’re pulling him toward you.
The kiss happens somewhere between impulse and inevitability. Years of frustration. Years of wanting. Years of bad timing and missed opportunities crashing together all at once. For a second, neither of you seems to know what to do with the fact that this is finally happening. Then Yunho’s hands find your waist automatically, hands gliding down as your tongue starts fighting with his own. His hands reach your ass, gripping and landing a slap on your right cheek getting him a moan into the kiss out of you from it. “Fuck me…” he grabs you, lifting you and letting you wrap your legs around his waist and a laugh escapes you. “You are such an idiot.”
Yunho lets out a disbelieving laugh of his own. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“You had an entire secret jealousy operation.”
“It wasn’t an operation.”
“It absolutely was.” And despite everything, you both start laughing. And somehow that feels right. Because after all the tension, all the confusion, all the years spent circling each other… It’s still the two of you. Just finally honest this time as Yunho holds you tightly against his chest, lips finding yours again in a slow, claiming kiss that deepens quickly, tongues sliding together as his hands roamed down your back.
He brakes away only to trail hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there. His fingers hook into the cups of your bra, tugging them down so your breasts spill free and he latches onto one nipple immediately, sucking hard while his tongue flicks over the hardening peak, then switches to the other, licking and sucking with growing hunger. Teeth grazing your nipple as he kisses and marks you, leaving red blooms across the curves of your breasts that would darken later as he carries you towards the couch and you slide down him until your knees hit the floor in front of him.
You reach up before he can ask and yank his sweats down in one motion, freeing his dick which bobbed heavily, still rigid and glistening with the evidence of his earlier release. The sight made your mouth water, he was thick, veined and longer than you had imagined, the tip flushed. You look up at him with a teasing smirk. "Twice now you've come just from eat me out. That's cute." Yunho's ears turn red but he doesn’t look away as you lean in without hesitation, tongue dragging along the underside of his dick to clean away the sticky cum clinging to his skin.
You take your time, licking broad stripes from base to tip, sucking the tip into your mouth to draw out every trace until he was clean and shiny with your saliva. Only when you had finished did he reach down, gripping your shoulders to pull you up to your feet, eyes locked onto yours, dark and searching. "You love me?" You answer by crashing your mouth to his, kissing him deep and messy and he groans into it, tasting himself on your tongue, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Of course you idiot," you murmur against his lips. Then you shove him backward onto the couch cushions. Your panties gone again in seconds, kicked aside as you climb into his lap, straddling his hips.
Yunho's hands grip your waist, his mind flashing to every time your ex had been here with you on this same couch. He was going to fuck those memories right out of the fabric. You didn't ease down. Both of you were too far gone, years of wanting crashing together in one desperate rush as you sank onto him in one smooth motion, taking every inch until your ass met his thighs and a shared moan filled the room. You started moving immediately, too impatient now, lifting and slamming back down in hard, hungry strokes that made the couch creak and Yunho's head fell back, fingers digging into your hips as he begged, "Take it, fuck, take all of me."
Your pace grew frantic, pounding yourself onto him with wet, slapping sounds filling the air. Each descent stretched you perfectly, his dick hitting deep. Pleasure coiled tight and then snapping. You cried out as you squirted hard around him, hot fluid gushing over him and soaking his lap and the sight undid him. Yunho flipped you in one swift motion, laying you back on the cushions and grabbing your legs to fold you in half, your ankles at his shoulders as he sank back inside you with a groan, thrusts starting slow and deliberate, building in force with every roll of his hips. “You're mine… I'm yours… Fuck…" The words came out strained as he watched your face, then looked down between your bodies.
The sight of you creaming his dick made him moan louder and pick up the speed, pounding into you relentlessly. "Say it… say you're mine." You were a trembling mess beneath him, words fracturing on your tongue. "I… I… I'm…" Yunho saw you unraveling and thrust harder. "I know baby… fuck you feel so fucking good." You sobbed his name, body locking up as your orgasm ripped through you, clenching around him, screaming as you squirted again, spraying between you.
Yunho followed right after, pounding through your climax before burying himself to the hilt, pulsing deep inside you, flooding you with thick ropes of cum that overflowed and leaked out around his dick. He stayed pressed there, grinding through the aftershocks, filling you until it was dripping down your ass onto the couch.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
A couple hours later, the apartment is so quiet it almost feels unreal. No tension. No confusion. No years of unresolved feelings hanging over every conversation. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of a spoon against ceramic as you stand at the kitchen island wearing one of Yunho’s oversized shirts that hangs halfway down your thighs. The sleeves swallow your hands every time you reach for your cereal.
Across from you, Yunho leans against the counter in nothing but boxers, absently eating from his own bowl. It’s ridiculous. After everything that happened. After years of pining. After confessions and tears and fucking on the couch then again in the shower after finally getting everything out in the open. This is what you’re doing. Eating cereal. The realization makes you snort into your spoon and Yunho immediately looks up. “What?”
You shake your head. “No. It’s just…” A laugh escapes you. “We finally admit we’re in love with each other and somehow we’re standing in the kitchen eating Lucky Charms.” Yunho glances down at his bowl then back at you. “It’s a very emotional cereal.” You stare at him and he stares back. And then you both lose it. The laughter comes easier now. The kind that leaves your stomach hurting and feels like relief. When it finally settles, Yunho shakes his head and points his spoon at you. “By the way.”
You narrow your eyes immediately. “Whenever someone starts a sentence like that, something annoying follows.”
“You really thought making me jealous was a good plan?”
You groan. “There it is.”
“No, seriously.” He sets his bowl down. “I need to understand.”
“You don’t.”
“I do.”
“You absolutely do not.”
Yunho is already smiling. That dangerous smile that means he’s enjoying himself. “You knew I was coming home and thought, You know what’ll fix this situation? Emotional devastation.”
“I was twenty five and stupid.”
“Five months ago.”
“Details.”
He lets out a bark of laughter and you try not to smile and fail miserably. “Do you know what I did after that?” he asks and your grin fades slightly. “No.”
“I sat in my room for three hours.”
Your eyes widen. “What?”
“Three.” He holds up three fingers. “Hours.”
“Yunho…”
“I ate an old bag of chips because i didn’t want to leave my room and I’m pretty sure they were stale.”
You choke on your cereal. “No, you didn’t.”
“I absolutely did.”
“Oh my God.”
“And then I convinced myself I was being ridiculous because you were allowed to date whoever you wanted.” The admission is casual. Like he’s only comfortable saying it now because everything’s already out in the open. And something soft settles in your chest. Because suddenly that memory looks completely different. Not from your perspective. From his. A man hopelessly in love with his best friend trying to pretend it didn’t hurt.
Your expression must change because Yunho notices immediately and his own smile softens. The teasing disappearing. “You know,” he says quietly, “I think I would’ve told you eventually.” You lean against the counter. “Yeah?” He nods. “Probably.”
“Probably?”
“Okay, definitely.”
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The sudden knock at the door makes both of you freeze. You glance at the microwave clock. 11:47 pm. Yunho looks at you. “Who the hell is that?” you ask.
“No idea.”
Another knock echoes through the apartment and you set your spoon down while Yunho pushes away from the counter. “Maybe Wooyoung got drunk and lost his key to his place again.” You snort as Yunho heads toward the front door and he opens it. And immediately stops.
You notice it before you even see who it is. The way his shoulders lock. The way his expression changes.
“What?”
Yunho doesn’t answer as you walk around the kitchen island. Then you see her. Chloe. Standing in the hallway. “Oh.” Chloe shifts her weight, nose turned up at you. Yunho still hasn’t said a word as she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Maybe I overreacted.”
Yunho blinks. “Chloe…”
“No, let me finish.” She holds up a hand. “And maybe I was kind of a bitch.” You cross your arms. Kind of? “Maybe I shouldn’t have said all that stuff.” Yunho opens his mouth again but Chloe keeps going. “And I get why you left suddenly earlier today.”
Yunho’s brows furrow. “What?”
Chloe sighs dramatically. “I mean… obviously you were nervous.”
You nearly choke on a laugh. Oh she has no idea.
“Nobody leaves mid going down on someone unless they’re nervous.”
Yunho looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. And before either of them can continue, you make a decision. You walk straight across the room and Yunho barely has time to register what’s happening before you’re standing beside him. Then closer. Then somehow even closer than that as you loop an arm around his and Yunho immediately knows you’re about to cause problems. The grin on your face gives it away.
“Sorry, Chloe.” Both of them look at you as you smile sweetly. “Yunho’s on a new diet.”
Chloe blinks in confusion. “A diet?”
“Yeah.” You nod completely serious. “It’s me.” The silence that follows is magnificent. For one glorious second, Chloe’s brain visibly buffers. Then realization hits and her eyes widen as your smile grows.
Yunho makes a strangled noise beside you that sounds suspiciously like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Are you….”
You gently push the door shut. “Have a good night, Chloe.” You stand there with your hand on the doorknob, looking very pleased with yourself. While behind you, Yunho is completely quiet until you turn around and then he is bent over laughing. Not a polite laugh. Not even a chuckle. But full on losing it. “Oh my God.”
You point at him. “She showed up uninvited.”
“I know.”
“And I handled it.”
“You absolutely handled it.”
You try to maintain your dignity but fail immediately when he starts laughing harder. “You called yourself a diet.”
“It was funny.”
“It was.”
“It was hilarious.”
Yunho wipes at his eyes still laughing. Then he looks at you and the amusement softens into something warmer as he shakes his head, smile pulling at his mouth. “God, I love you.”
And for the first time in years, neither of you has to pretend that those words mean anything less than exactly what they do right now.
