I wanted to take time to highlight some of my favorite creators/authors on here. I have a separate reading blog that I have used for months before creating this blog. Over there, I followed these blogs closely, and I truly can't recommend them enough. All of them have created works that I have enjoyed and made me want to write again. If you can, I would check out their stuff and support them.
@yuyueater -> Bookshelf
Lexie is my favorite 18+ blog on Tumblr
Personal favorites: Eater & Pirate
@sannie-young -> Masterlist
Favorite fake texts author on Tumblr
Personal favorites: Fan Meeting & Overwhelmed
@witchleo21 -> Speak of the Devil!
One of the first series I was completely hooked on
unscripted, the podcast that talks about everything sex, is the bane of wooyoung’s existence. he hates her snarky voice, her tips that he can guarantee are baseless, he hates that all of his friends are jumping on the fucking bandwagon when wooyoung can give them the same goddamn advice from experience. never in a million years would he guess that the person behind the voice, the girl in a sexless, boring, long-term relationship, is you.
"Cause time will show that you should try it those American girls you spend your life with"
Warnings: None <3
KATTDO Masterlist
Everyone knew Song Mingi. They knew the rapper with the voice like thunder wrapped in velvet. The one who could command a stadium with a single smirk and a low chuckle into the mic. They knew the performer who lit up stages alongside his members, the one whose laugh echoed through arenas and whose sharp choreography made thousands scream his name and bark in unison. He was confidence personified under bright lights. He was tall, striking, always ready with a playful tease that sent fans into frenzy.
But that wasn’t the Mingi you fell in love with.
The real Mingi came home with shoulders heavy from carrying invisible weights. He was the one who kicked off his shoes in the entryway and immediately reached for the oversized throw blanket on the couch that smelled like home instead of hairspray and makeup. He was the man who stared at his reflection after removing his makeup, wondering if anyone would still look at him the same without the lights, the cheers, the persona. He reminded himself every day how lucky he was. He had the dream. He was the dream younger Mingi had scribbled about in notebooks late at night. So why did the silence in the apartment that he shared sometimes feel louder than the roar of the crowd?
The first time you met him, it was in a tiny record store tucked away in a quiet alley in Hongdae. The kind of place with creaky wooden floors, dust bunnies dancing in the afternoon light, and walls lined with faded posters. You worked there part-time, curating sections and helping customers find hidden gems. Mingi had slipped in one rainy Tuesday afternoon, black oversized hoodie hiding his frame with the hood pulled over his head, mask up with large black sunglasses obscuring his face. He moved slowly through the aisles, fingers brushing over album covers with genuine respect. He spent nearly an hour there, flipping through sections without ever buying anything.
You finally couldn’t resist.
“Excuse me,” you said, leaning against a shelf with a playful smile. “Are you actually planning to buy something, or are you just here to reorganize my entire jazz section?”
He looked up, startled. Your face reflects back at you through his dark lenses. For a second, you thought he might bolt. Then he let out a genuine laugh, it was warm, and a little embarrassed, nothing like the polished one you’d later see on variety shows.
“Maybe I’m helping,” he replied, voice low and husky, the kind that sent a small shiver down your spine even then.
“You’re definitely not,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “That Coltrane album has been upside down for ten minutes. I’ve been watching you.”
He glanced down, realized you were right, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah… busted. Sorry. I get lost in these sometimes.”
You shrugged. “It’s fine. Better than the people who come in just to take selfies with the vintage speakers.”
That earned another soft laugh. He ended up buying three albums that day, including the Coltrane one. As you rang him up, he lingered.
“You have good taste,” he said quietly, nodding at your handwritten staff picks.
“Thanks. You seem like you do too… even if you’re a bit clumsy with the shelves.”
He smiled under the mask. “Mingi. Nice to meet you.”
You told him your name. No spark of recognition crossed your face. He noticed that immediately. And for the first time in a long while, all he felt was relief.
That became the beginning.
He came back a week later. Then he kept coming back. Sometimes he bought something, most of the time he didn’t. You talked mostly about music. You told him about growing up in America and the state you grew up in. He told you about what is was like to grow up here in Korea and all the similarities and differences to both of your upbringings. He complimented your Korean and you helped him with his English. You teased him about knocking over a stack of records. He teased you right back about your obsession with organizing by not just genre but by “vibes”. One evening, as you were closing up the store, he helped you carry a heavy box of new arrivals to the back.
“Oh Mingi, you don’t have to, I can do that” you said.
“I want to,” he shook his head and replied simply. Then, quieter: “It’s nice…just doing normal stuff.”
You didn’t push. You just handed him a cold drink from the break room fridge. “Here. For the manual labor.”
He took it, fingers brushing yours, and something in his chest shifted.
The relationship bloomed slowly, comfortably, like a favorite song you keep replaying.
You met the real Mingi in pieces. When he told you about him being an idol and you had no reaction he was shocked. You explained to him that you always knew who he was, it was hard not to, but that although you were a fan, it just didn’t matter all that much. The stunned and confused look he wore turned into a playful smile and somewhat jokingly asked who your bias was.
You met the Mingi who got flustered when he accidentally knocked over your favorite mug during a late-night visit to your apartment “I’m so sorry! I can fix it! Do you have any super glue?”.
The Mingi who stopped to pet every dog he saw on walks, crouching down with that big, bright smile that made the owners do double-takes.
The Mingi who sent you random photos at odd hours: a particularly fluffy cloud, a street food stall that smelled amazing, a half-written lyric scribbled on a napkin. “Thought you’d like this. Or maybe I’m just bored in the practice room again.”
You never asked for the performer. You asked about his day, the sore muscles, the frustrating melody that wouldn’t click, the way he sometimes doubted whether a line was good enough. And he started to let you in. One night in his studio, you sat on the floor surrounded by the pile of snacks you brought to make sure he was eating. He sat in his chair in front of his equipment and played you a rough track he’d been working on for weeks. The beat was heavy, his voice layered beautifully over it.
When it ended, silence stretched for a moment.
“What did you think?” he asked, nervous, fiddling with his headphones.
You looked at him from your position on the floor. “I liked it.”
“That’s all?” He raised an eyebrow, but his smile was hopeful.
You shrugged, leaning back against the couch behind you. “I don’t know. It just feels very you. The parts where your voice dips low…that’s where it hits hardest. Like you’re telling a secret.”
He stared at you for a long beat. Then he laughed softly, but there was something vulnerable in it. “Everyone tells me I’m talented. Or powerful. Or whatever the company wants to hear. But you…you just say it’s me.”
“Yeah,” you said simply. “Because it is.”
He reached over and gently flicked your forehead. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”
You grinned. “Dangerous how?”
“Because I might start needing this. Needing you to hear everything first.”
The comfortable days turned into months. Late-night convenience store runs where you both sat on the floor of his dorm Seonghwa and San were out, eating kimbap and debating which snacks were better. Him explaining a lyric’s meaning with animated hands while you fought to stay awake on his shoulder. You falling asleep there anyway, and waking up to him draping a blanket over you with the gentlest touch.
But cracks started showing when his members’ lives shifted.
Yunho mentioned moving in with someone seriously. San talked excitedly about future plans that included his partner. The little domestic stories during group dinners, someone cooking for another, quiet weekends together, it all began to pile up.
Mingi smiled through all of it. He was genuinely happy for them. But afterward, in the quiet of his own space, the emptiness pressed in.
One night after a particularly lively dinner, he came to your place straight from the restaurant. You were curled up on the couch with a book. He dropped onto the cushion beside you, head immediately finding your lap.
“Rough day?” you asked, immediately abandoning your book to thread your fingers through his hair.
“Not rough,” he murmured. “Just…loud. Everyone’s got these stories now. Small things. Like ‘we tried that new café’ or ‘they surprised me with my favorite snack.’ And I keep thinking…I have all this.” He gestured vaguely toward the window, as if the city lights represented the career. “But who do I tell about the small wins? The ones that don’t make headlines?”
You stayed quiet, letting him talk.
The turning point came after a massive concert.
The arena had been electric. Mingi had poured everything into his performance as he always did, deep voice booming, energy boundless. The crowd barking his name. Fireworks. Confetti. The full spectacle. Afterward, the adrenaline crash hit hard. The members celebrated briefly, then dispersed. Mingi found you waiting near the back exit, away from the lingering fans and staff. He walked toward you still in stage clothes, sweat-damp hair, makeup slightly smudged. The larger-than-life performer. But the moment his eyes found yours, his entire posture softened. The confident swagger melted into something quieter, more real.
“You were incredible tonight,” you said, smiling as he reached you.
He pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your hair for a long moment. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.” You said, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.
He pulled back slightly, hands still on your waist. The dim lights cast long shadows across the empty hallway. “No,” he said softly. “It’s more than that.”
You tilted your head, waiting.
“I used to think this” he glanced back toward the stage area, the distant echo of equipment being moved “was everything. All I needed. Younger me would’ve killed for nights like tonight. But now…I finish a show and the lights go down, and I just want to tell someone. Not even the good stuff. The part where I messed up that one transition and it pissed me off but I recovered and no one even noticed it. The way the crowd’s energy felt different tonight. The stupid joke Hongjoong made backstage that only we would find funny.”
He swallowed, eyes searching yours. “I want someone who knows the difference between my stage smile and the real one. Someone who sees me after the applause. I spent so long chasing this dream…and I realized I want to share it. With you.”
Your heart ached in the best way. You reached up, cupping his cheek. “Mingi…you don’t have to perform for me. Ever. I already see you. The one who sends me stupid not funny at all memes at 2 a.m. The one who gets embarrassed when I compliment him. The one who doubts himself even when the whole world is cheering.”
He let out a shaky laugh, forehead resting against yours. “Yeah? Even the clumsy record-store guy?”
“Especially him,” you whispered. “That’s the one I love.”
Mingi’s love, once fully given, was playful and deep and all consuming in the best way.
He teased you mercilessly, stealing bites of your food, sending absurd memes during schedules with captions like “this is you when I sing in the shower”, but he was also the first to notice when your day was hard. He’d show up with your favorite snacks, pull you onto the couch, and let you vent while he listened with that focused intensity. He let you into every corner: unfinished songs, late-night insecurities, the quiet pride after a successful comeback. And you gave him the safety of being ordinary.
A year later after one of their shows, you waited outside the venue by the cars that would tale them home like always. Mingi emerged, still buzzing but visibly tired, stage clothes traded for something comfortable. When he spotted you, his whole face lit up. He jogged the last few steps, pulling you into his arms without hesitation.
“You were good tonight Ming” you murmured against his chest.
He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.” You pulled back to look at him. “But I mean it more about this Mingi. The one right here in my arms.”
He squeezed your hand, lacing your fingers together as you started walking. “That’s all I’ve ever really wanted, you know? Not someone who loves Song Mingi, the idol. Just…Mingi the guy who still messes up the organization of your vinyl collection”
You laughed. “Good thing I love him exactly like that.”
And under the quiet Seoul night sky, far from the roar of the crowd, he kissed you slowly. The kiss was full of gratitude and felt like home.
The dream was bright. But sharing it with you? That was the most beautiful part of all.
♡ synopsis: wooyoung runs his own korean street food truck, parked in the same corner of the same little parking lot every night along with a few other specialty trucks. after a particularly lively night, wooyoung is the last one left cleaning up before being able to lock up and leave for the night, when you pull up on your motorcycle and practically beg him to whip you something up. he does, dirtying his already clean space just for you. slowly but surely, you become his favourite regular, both during and after hours.
♡ wc: 13.3k
♡ content: smut with plot, fluff, two doms fighting it out, bitchass fox wooyoung :3, chef woo is a MUNCH
♡ warnings: MDNI!! 18+, smut, cursing, suggestive talk, smoking, oral f!receiving, edging, fingering, unprotected sex (DON'T DO THIS!), hickeys, brief 'predator' 'prey' talk (but not in a weird way), THE L WORD
♡ song rec: kiss it better ~ rihanna
⋆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The glittering, blurring colours of traffic lights as they flew past you. The gradient of the setting evening sun. The warm, summer wind whipping your braids that hung out under your helmet, snapping against the leather of the back of your jacket. The slow, sexy electric guitar filtering into your ears through your airpods, mixing beautifully with the growl and cry of the engine as your bike traces along the streets of the city outskirts. It was everything you loved and needed after a long, tiring week of pushing paper.
Stopped at a red light, the Friday evening traffic perfectly heavy and lively, your favourite girl rumbling beneath you, you finally felt relaxed for the first time since Monday morning.
But with that relaxation came the hollowing pain of your empty stomach, groaning for something greasy and delicious. The light flickered green and you sped off with a violent rev, splitting the lanes, making many other blue-collar workers in their cars pissy. The scenery melting together into an artful mix of colours as you picked up speed caught all your attention once more and you rode aimlessly until the splashes of pink and orange in the sky had been replaced by a deep, mesmerising, and flawless blue, and the roads your were traversing cleared out to become your own personal playground.
You pulled off the freeway you'd ended up on and felt your stomach dip with gravity as the exit took you off of the suspended overpass and back onto level ground. An angry roar immediately followed that, reminding you of the once forgotten, and now much worse, hunger you carried. Though, just as the thought crossed your mind, a free-standing chalkboard came into view. You slowed and pulled over to the curb, close enough to read the colourful chalk scrawled onto it: 'Tiger Woo's Classic Korean!' with a large arrow that pointed into an almost completely empty parking lot with a single food-truck standing in the corner, the silhouette of someone fluttering about in the small space, back-lit by a warm orange light inside. Curiosity and the fervent protesting of your stomach got the better of you and you kicked you foot back onto the rest of your bike and brought yourself into the lot.
There was obvious evidence of a fair few number of people that must've been there earlier in the night: public bins full to the brim with different coloured food wrappings and packaging, some pieces of litter scattered here and there, and unidentifiable foodstuffs smushed into the concrete in various places.
The gentle rumble of your bike as you pulled up to the lone truck caught the attention of the man inside, who had been wiping down the counter that sat at the back of the truck. You pulled to a stop parallel to the truck itself, tugged your helmet off, and finally got an actual look at him. For some reason, you assumed he'd be an older Korean man that everyone called 'uncle', not a devilishly handsome man in his 20's, long-ish black hair that was longer at the back, button up shirt under his apron that had a few of the top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to reveal a large and beautifully intricate lineart tattoo along his forearm.
You kicked the stand out for your bike and hopped off, leaving the helmet on the seat, and sauntered up as you smoothed out all the fly-aways that'd escaped from your french braids.
He turned his body a bit, hand with a damp cloth in it still on the counter even as he looked down at you. "Sorry, I'm shutting up shop right now."
You sighed and crossed your arms onto the counter that protuded from the window, plastering a pout on your face.
"Awww what? No way."
He smiled and turned the rest of his body to face you, crossing his own arms as he leant back against the surface he was just wiping.
"Mhmm. Sorry, love." He drawled, clearly amused by your dramatic display. Your pout dissipated into a smile of your own, a subtle flutter in your stomach telling you what your brain already recognised: this man was hot.
"Really? You can't whip something up for me really quick. I'm starving." You reciprocated his air of playful flirtiness in your tone, but you didn't actually expect anything. You definitely didn't expect him to seriously look around the already mostly tidied up kitchen with a hum, before twisting his body to peek into a fridge that stood tall on the very right ride of the truck. He nodded and shut it before turning back and leaning out of the window a bit, giving you a better view of him. He had a black string hanging from his neck, two silver rings threaded through it that glinted in the light just above him. His ear lobes were pierced at least twice on each side, with an indutsrial bar on the right ear and a cuff on the left. You even caught a glimpse of metal at his eyebrow, hiding under his long bangs. Tatted and pierced? Lucky you.
"I think I can fry up some quick Bindaetteok." His otherwise perfect American accent gave way to a heavy Korean pronunciation of the word, one you'd obviously never heard before, not like you cared as all of your focus was on how sexily it fell from his tongue.
"You're gonna have to tell me what that is." You smiled innocently, earning a chuckle from the man as he started to pull out a cutting board and knife from cupboards above the window, and various containers of veggies, kimchi, eggs, and some beige-looking paste from the aforementioned fridge. He placed them all down on the counter on the inside of the window, as if intentionally giving you a little cooking show along with your order.
"Mung bean pancakes." He stated as he positioned some shoots of green onion on the chopping board before going to town on them with the knife. His movements were quick and practiced, forearm slightly tensed and eyes focused as he sped through the onion, having it completely diced within a few seconds.
"Pancakes? Are they sweet?"
He looked up at you, then down at the green onion he was chopping, and then back at you, a smirk now painting his lips. You smiled, the back of your neck feeling a bit warm.
"Stupid question." You followed the statement up with a giggle and he showed his teeth for a second before going back into focus mode. He pulled out a large metal bowl and transported the chopped onions into it, then throwing in a handful of what looked like sprouts, a spoonful of kimchi, an egg, a clove of garlic he'd quickly minced, the rest of what he had left of that creamy beige mixture in the disposable tupperware container, followed by seasonings and a swirl of sesame oil. He moved like a bartender, actions fluid and attractive, except instead of mixing up an intricate drink you'd never heard of, he was putting together some hopefully delicious dish you couldn't pronounce.
With a wooden spoon, he held the bowl close to his body and stirred the mixture, letting you notice how likely toned he was under his clothing, which correlated with how much strength his arm was putting in to simply mix everything together.
He placed the now incorporated bowl of batter back down and smiled at you, leaning against the counter again to catch his breath. "Liking the show?" The question confirmed what you had already suspected: he was purposefully putting on a performance for you. The idea made your pulse jump.
"Absolutely." You responded unashamedly, and he chuckled.
He flicked on the gas he'd already turned off and heated up a cleaned pan to make the pancakes, just for you. You watched as he suavely swirled more oil into the pan, then dumped and spread two spoonfuls of the batter on, the heated surface responding with a loud sizzle. The smell immediately hit your nose: savoury, aromatic, and nutty. Your mouth was positively watering by the time he had cooked up four beautifully golden and crispy pancakes, placed them on a paper plate, and slid them towards you with a small pot of soy sauce mixed with honey, vinegar, and a bit more oil.
The crispy, oily cakes steamed enticingly, and you immediately reached for one with your fingers. He leaned down, chin perched in his hands, as he watched you with a smile.
"Careful. They're hot." He stated, and you rolled your eyes with a smile, not even flinching as you pinched the cake between your fingers. He held his hands up in defense with a chuckle before returning to his previous position again.
You chowed down with no time to waste, desperately needing to satiate your raging stomach, and immediately melted. It tasted just as it smelled: warm and greasy, nutty and fragrant, hearty and starchy. It was everything you needed in that moment. An audible hum of satisfaction carried from your throat and he chuckled again before standing up straight and starting to pack up his truck again. You finished the first one and sighed, taking a moment to appreciate the blessing the man had granted you.
"Good?" He called over his shoulder with a prideful smile as he started to fill a sink in the back to wash all the fresh dishes he'd created.
"Delicious." You replied with an exaggeratedly heavy breath, like it was the first water you'd had in days. He smiled and huffed, turning away and speedily washing up before bringing his attention back to you, who'd already gotten to the third cake.
"Why are you out so late anyway?" He asked, leaning on his hands again and showing off those forearms, giving you two things to drool over.
"Just...taking my girl for a ride."
He raised an eyebrow and you gestured back to your motorcyle, making him nod with understanding.
"Been a long week," you continued, "It's the best way to unwind." You took another large bite of the cake and he scooped up the last one for himself.
"Yeah? Did I help?" He took a small bite of his portion and smiled so sweetly, a contrast to how he'd been acting up to that point. You nodded happily and finished your meal with one last hum.
"So much. I really was starving, y'know? How do I pay you?"
You'd already tugged your phone out to pay but he popped the last bite into his mouth and covered it with his hand as he chewed, shaking his head. He swallowed and wiped his fingers off on his apron.
"No need."
You blinked, a little stunned that this guy who'd stayed out longer and made a mess of his freshly cleaned truck because of you, was now refusing payment.
"Then...," you slipped your phone into the back pocket of your jeans and stood on your toes to lean over and observed the slight mess still scattered about his counter, "let me help you clean, at least."
He smiled and put a hand up in defense. "Not a chance."
You pouted, letting your feet fall back flat on the ground. "But..."
"Just come back again."
Those words sent a thrill through you, not only at the idea of eating such delicious food again, but at the excitement of seeing the sexy chef that provided it to you. You nodded immediately, stepping back towards your bike with a smile.
"Deal!"
"And it better be during normal hours!" He called back. "When I have the facilities to make you something even better!"
You giggled, loosening the strap on your helmet. "I don't know how you're going to top those bin...those pancakes!"
He laughed at how you instantly gave up on the pronunciation before leaning forward and cupping his hands to yell back just as you slipped your heavy helmet on.
"Don't worry, I'm great at topping!"
⋆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
What stayed in your head that whole weekend was the thought of seeing him again, eating his food again, the fact you never even got his name, and those last words he said before you sped off. The engine of your bike wasn't the only thing purring between your thighs that night, but you had no idea if he even meant it the way it sounded.
⋆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Monday came fast but the day went slow. When you were finally freed from that place you used only for the money, you slipped your leather jacket and helmet on, and you were on the road faster than ever. The sun had only just begun to set and you retraced in your head exactly where you went to get to that beautifully quaint parking lot. Luckily, you knew those outskirt streets like you knew the inside of your own bike, and you were pulling up to the much more lively lot in just about 10 minutes.
You parked at the edge of the lot and hung your helmet on your handlebars. The crowds you'd assumed gathered there were real, groups of people fluttering about, grabbing food and drinks from many different trucks you hadn't seen on Friday night, talking and laughing in circles. Someone even had a large, loud, standing speaker (one of the truck owners, you assumed), and they were blasting music to mix with the sizzling and chopping sounds coming from each truck. None of the other ones interested you, though.
You strolled up to 'Tiger Woo's Classic Korean' with a smile, your eyes locking on the familiar man behind the counter, handing someone a cardboard tray with a cute fish-shaped pastry on it. When the person walked away and his eyes landed on you, recognition flooding them, your stomach did a flip.
"Hey beautiful stranger." He smirked, leaning down with a tilt of his head. You immediately matched his energy, putting your weight on the protruding counter with a smirk of your own and a bitten lip.
"Y/n." You stated. "Now I'm not a stranger."
"Still beautiful though." His eyes ran over your face, sending a thrill through you, before he stood up straight again.
"And you're...," you stepped back to look at the sign above the window, "Woo?" You leaned forward again, smile wide and cheeks pink. His mouth matched yours immediately.
"Wooyoung," he clarified, and you nodded.
"Why are you 'Tiger'?" You asked curiously with a bite to your lip, something that was becoming an involuntary habit specifically around him.
He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Because I'm Korean." You tilted your head, smile falling in confusion. His cheeks grew a bit red at that. "Because, like...the peninsula of Korea is said to look like a tiger...? I don't know, I just thought it sounded cool."
His suddenly bashful smile endeared you and you nodded, leaning your cheek on your hand.
"Ohhh. Like how Italy looks like a boot?"
He snapped his fingers at you with a smile.
"Exactly." The two of you giggled before he leaned forward on the counter again with that same charming smirk. "Okay, anyways. Ready for me to rock your world?"
There it was again. The man was purposefully driving you insane with innuendos. It was even worse that time too as he was in the peak of the evening, red climbing up his neck from the heat and skin shiny with a layer of sweat that made him look sexier than usual. You had to bite back.
"Depends what part of my world you're rocking." You let your own eyes run over him, slow and deliberate, and you could've sworn he let out an affected huff in response. When he replied, his voice was just a bit more gravelly.
"Whatever part you want."
The silence that came after was tense, eyes locked together, your lip bitten. He smirked and stepped back again, straightening out his apron.
"But, let's keep it to your taste buds for tonight."
He started pulling things from the fridge like he'd already decided what was being made, and you peeked over nosily.
"I don't get to decide what I want?"
He plopped his supplies down on the counter and shook his head.
"Mm-mm. I'm making you the best thing on the menu."
The feminine urge to say 'I wish you were on the menu' almost got the better of you, but you decided to rein it in when he put his focusing face on.
"And what would that be?" You settled for a much tamer response.
He thought for a moment, pushing his lips out in a purse before leaning onto his elbows on the counter.
"Okay, I'll give you one choice. Savoury or sweet?"
Something hearty and savoury sounded like heaven after another long day with an empty stomach, but you couldn't deny yourself the craving for a sweet treat. After a bit of thinking, you smiled and shot back with, "Sweet!"
His own smile widened and he nodded, returning the ingredients he'd already brought out back to the fridge, and then brought out a large jar of batter and smaller container of red paste.
"You don't make all these ingredients here, do you?" You inquired curiously, thinking back to how everything was in containers the last time you were there as well. He shook his head as he placed the two ingredients on the counter and flipped open the heavy lid of what looked like a panini press, but it had little shaped molds indented into it.
"Not usually. I only come out here in the evening so I spend the morning preparing as much as I can at home. It's just quicker and easier that way."
You nodded in understanding, watching with mesmerised eyes as he filled a piping bag with a small amount of the batter before tucking the larger jar back in the fridge safely. With precision and strong hands, he filled the hot molds in the press halfway with the batter, let it cook for a second, then spooned some of that red paste right into the centre, before topping it off with some more batter. He closed the press tightly, the batter letting out a light squeal in protest.
"So...gonna tell me what it is?"
He smirked, already grabbing a paper plate and some napkins. "Bungeoppang."
You stared at him, half clueless but half just completely struck with attraction again at the sudden expression of his Korean speech. He chuckled lightly.
"Basically, fish shaped bread. It's like a sweet pastry filled with red bean paste."
"Beans??"
"They're sweet." He laughed softly and lifted the lid of the press, previously liquid batter now crispy and golden. It was what you'd seen him handing the last customer he'd served before you approached.
"I'll take your word for it."
He used a skewer to pop the two pastries he'd made out of the mold and settle them on the plate, sliding it to you. They looked so deliciously warm, steamy, and fluffy, and you already felt your mouth watering. Without hesitation, you reached to grab one of the steaming pastries with your fingers, only to be met by his hand on yours, pushing it away. The contact sent little shivers over your skin, and his other hand brought one of the napkins over to hand it to you.
"They're hot. Grab it with this."
You took the napkin but smirked up at him and sighed.
"The fresh-off-the-pan pancakes didn't hurt me last time. I think I'll be okay." You teased.
"Still." He responded completely serious, his firm eye contact making your heart do a little jump.
You were careful with how you grabbed the little fish, pinching it by the tail as the napkin acted like a barrier between you and heat exuding from the crispy dough. You giggled as you held it up, wiggling it around in a motion that mimicked an actual fish jumping out of the water, and he laughed with an amused exasperation. You gave one last smile before chowing down, immediately huffing out the steam that filled your mouth like a puff of a cigarette. Then the delicious delicate sweetness of the treat hit your tongue: a perfectly crispy yet fluffy bread similar to a waffle, with a smooth, sweet, and slightly sticky filling which you assumed were the beans. You hummed happily, closing your eyes.
"They are sweet!"
He laughed, picking up the other one for himself. "It's not like I'd lie to you."
You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand, before swallowing and feeling comfortable to talk and laugh freely without grossing out the insanely hot man in front of you.
"I don't know! I don't know you!" You laughed, leaning forward. He chuckled, tearing a small piece of the tail off of his own pastry.
"I'd like you to." He stated so casually, and popped the piece of the treat in his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. You could only stare at him, smiling with sparkling eyes. He finished chewing and swallowed, adams apple bobbing enticingly. "I hope I've made that clear enough to you, y/n."
He was so confident and bold, unlike anyone you'd met; someone that wasn't shy about what he wanted. Needless to say, you really liked that.
"You have, Wooyoung. And I came back, didn't I? What do you think that means?" You tilted your head, your lips curled up in playful grin. His smile widened, showing all his teeth like the self-proclaimed tiger he was.
"You want to know me too?" He was leant forward out of the window, one elbow on the counter, chin in his palm, other hand dangling the bungeoppang like it was prey he'd caught himself. In that sense, maybe he thought you were the fish in the scenario, but you weren't that easy. You shrugged and took another bite of your pastry, turning your head away in a coy manner that made his sharp eyes follow. The game had begun.
⋆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You'd made that quaint but lively little spot your regular dinner spot for the rest of the week, the beautiful man in the Korean street food truck making you something new every night; dishes that always blew you away. Idle chatter mixed with playful banter, dashed with tantalising flirtation and seduction. Each night with him felt like you were a pot of water slowly boiling, and every word that fell from his lips was his way of turning up the heat to make you bubble over faster. But you were stubborn and you tried just as hard to break the man as he did you.
Late Friday night, you'd stayed with him until every other person and truck had peeled out of the lot, leaving you idly chatting to him as he cleaned. You gazed around the streelight-lit space and smiled.
"Deja vu."
He chuckled as he finished tucking away all his clean dishes.
"At least you're letting me clean my truck up in peace this time." He joked, making you huff and roll your eyes.
"Excuse me. I didn't force you to cook for me."
"You basically did." He popped up from where he was bent down under the window, closing the cabinet there. "Those eyes bewitched me." He crossed his arms on the window frame and leaned his head on them, smiling with teeth. You leaned in a bit yourself.
"You seem pretty happy for someone so 'bewitched'." You laughed, your stomach tingling as you held his gaze.
"I am." He said, straight forward, and you bit your lip. His eyes immediately fell to where your teeth sunk in, unashamed, bringing that tingling sensation in your belly even lower. He sighed and stood up to his full height again. "Let me finish cleaning up. Wait for me?"
He purposefully widened his eyes like a pleading puppy, to which you laughed and nodded as heat covered your cheeks.
He quickly wiped everything down before shutting up the window, stepping out, and locking up the door to the truck. It was the first time you weren't looking up at him through that window - the first time there was nothing between you and him. You found your own pulse picking up excitedly as he leaned against the side of the truck next to you. You watched, enraptured, as he undid his apron and slung it over his shoulder, before tugging a single cigarette out of the pocket of his jeans and placing it delicately between his lips. His hands patted around his different pockets as if looking for something, and he cursed softly. In a swift move, you presented your own light and flicked the cap off, igniting the flame and bringing it up to the end of the cigarette in his mouth. His narrowed eyes landed on yours, the flame reflected in them, and for a moment it felt as if that flame was coming from his soul as opposed to your own lighter.
When the cigarette crackled gently, you pulled your lighter away and buried it back into the pocket of your leather jacket. He took a long puff with closed eyes before blowing it out into the warm night air. His lips then curled into a smile and he plucked the cigarette from his lips, eyes opening to shift to you again.
"Should've known by the look of you and that bike that you smoked."
"Are you stereotyping me right now?" You teased, turning your body to face him, shoulder leant against the cool metal of the truck.
"Yeah." He chuckled and popped the smoke back between his lips, to which you smoothly plucked out and brought to your own mouth. You made sure his eyes stayed trained on you as you took a long drag of his cigarette, his pupils dilating, the blackness of them reflecting the smouldering orange end of the paper tube. You took it between two fingers and blew the smoke into his face, to which his gaze didn't waver. It made your stomach feel pleasantly heavy and the space between your thighs extra warm.
You smiled sweetly, the expression contrasting your obviously seductive actions, and handed the cigarette back to him. He took a breath before chuckling and taking another drag for himself.
"You are something else." He said as he sighed out the nicotine, tapping the smoke with one finger to dust off the ash at the end. You giggled happily, a proud smile on your face.
He sighed and gazed up at the sky, clear and dark, an uninterrupted blue with not a single visible star - the cost of city living.
"I'm usually exhausted after these busy Fridays...," he started, then smiled, "but I'm wide awake right now."
You hummed and followed his gaze up into the sky. An idea struck you and a scheming grin spread across your lips, chest ticklish with excitement and nerves.
"Wanna go for a ride?" You nodded your head towards your bike standing peacefully on the other side of the lot. His smirk immediately matched yours and he flicked his cigarette into the asphalt to stomp it with his foot.
"Anything that involves you and 'riding' excites me."
It wasn't like his other innuendoes that could be excused away or be the fault of your own dirty mind. It was blatant and vulgar, the nature of it making the air that blew between you feel charged.
"Dirty." You drawled with a smile, followed by a bite to your bottom lip.
"Just being honest." He waved a hand and turned away to walk over to your bike. It was all the answer you needed.
You jogged up after him, getting ahead to reach your beauty before he did. You eagerly grabbed the helmet and shoved it into his hands.
"Wear this."
He obeyed, undoing the strap.
"Do you have another one?" He asked with a raised brow, earning a guilty hum and smile from you.
"Nooo...but it's fine! I'll go slow and it'll just be around the block."
He sighed, brows furrowed as he chewed the inside of his cheek. The way his eyes were trained on you, concerned and unconvinced, had you really considering what he said about 'riding'. You put your own pouty eyes on and leaned close to him.
"I promise it'll be okay. Please...?" You fluttered your lashes up at him and watched happily as his adams apple bobbed in response.
"...You make a compelling argument."
You giggled, pushing the helmet in his hands to his chest. He finally smiled wryly and gave in, sweeping his hair back to slot it onto his head.
You swung your leg over the bike and turned the key, the beast purring to life beneath you - your favourite feeling. That is until he got on behind you and his larger thighs bracketed your hips, the warmth of his chest against your back quickly jumping to the top of your 'favourite feelings' list.
"This feels a bit backwards." He chuckled, the sound muffled under the helmet. You giggled and looked over your shoulder, squinting your eyes to meet his through the tinted visor.
"Feeling emasculated, Tiger?" You smirked, only to feel your heart jump into your throat when his large, warm hands unashamedly slipped under your jacket to wrap around your waist.
"Not at all." He said casually as you whipped your head back around to stare forward, too stubborn to let him see the way your cheeks bloomed with colour. He leaned down to nuzzle his chin against your shoulder, hands squeezing at your torso, rumpling the thin black blouse you wore under your jacket. "What's this?"
His hands moved up and down your waist, feeling the fabric and, simultaneously, feeling you.
"My work shirt. I always come straight from the office, y'know?"
He nodded and pinched at the fabric, making you shiver lightly.
"Feels pretty..." He mumbled with a tone that sounded like a deep purr, a fitting sound for the Tiger, and a melody that made your body feel like jelly in his hands. You wouldn't let him get away with melting you that easily. You twisted back towards him and placed a hand on his chest, leaning right up to the helmet on his head to murmur.
"Maybe I'll let you take it off me sometime..."
His fingers on your waist noticably twitched and, although you couldn't really see his face, you could at least hear the way he huffed 'jesus fucking christ...' under his breath. You faced forward once more and finally kicked up the stand of your bike, satisfied. His hands that had been wrapped so intimately around you quickly let go so he could properly strap his arms around your middle and pull you tight to his front as you peeled out of the lot and onto the mostly empty road.
It was exhilarating, as speeding through the beautifully colourful outer-city streets at night usually was, but even moreso with the body heat of a man that spiked your resting heart rate with ease right behind you. Every sharp turn was punctuated by a stronger hold of his arms and an obvious tightening of his core, and you simultaneously cursed and thanked the thickness of your leather jacket keeping you from really feeling the muscles you knew he had pressing against you.
You decided to kick it up a notch, revving your beauty to speed up as you reached a long, continuous stretch of empty road. It was rare you rode without your helmet, but you revelled in it every single time. Being able to feel the wind on your face, your braids whipping - unrestricted, being able to hear and see everything so much better. You let out a long, loud whoop as you raced down the road, earning what felt like a chuckle from the man behind you based on the way his chest vibrated.
By the time you'd rounded the block and arrived back where you started, your adrenaline was through the roof. You let him get off and free himself of his helmet before you jumped off with an exhilarated laugh. It was contagious, and he started to chuckle. As he placed the helmet back onto the seat of your still-warm bike, his deep chuckle slowly morphed, jumping up many octaves, until he was doubled over and properly cackling. Your eyes widened and you felt a genuine thump deep in your chest, the feeling mixing with the hormones already running rampant inside, and forcing a wide and amused smile on your lips.
You stared, watching as he slowly caught his breath again. His eyes met yours, seeing how absolutely enamoured they were, how endeared your smile was.
"What?" He questioned, cheeks red from laughing. Your smile only opened up into a grin.
"You're so cute."
He stood up straighter and scoffed, his breathing still a little short. He placed a hand on his hip and ran the other through his hair, as if intentionally trying to make himself look more masculine in your eyes.
"I am not."
You giggled and stepped closer to him, playfully nudging his shoulder.
"You so are."
He pursed his lips and knotted his eyebrows together in irritation - a sight you desperately wanted to see more of.
"Your voice went so high!" You continued, giggling. "That laugh was sooo cute, Wooyoung. Wooyoungie~"
He huffed and, suddenly, his hands were gripping your waist. He moved you easily, pressing you against your own bike, your ass against the seat as he leaned over with a knee slotted between your legs.
"You get a lot of pleasure out of winding me up, don't you?" His voice was deep and gravelly, eyes sharp and trained on yours. You words died in your throat as your pulse throbbed right where his knee was pressed. "Every single day. You say things. Do things...you drive me fucking nuts."
You let out a hot breath between your lips, warming the minimal space between you even further. Your own eyes narrowed, matching his, and your voice was smooth yet low and quiet.
"In an angry way?" You asked, though you knew that wasn't really it.
"In a 'I want to make you scream my name' way..." He clarified, even though you already knew, and it still made a hot spark run down your spine and settle between your legs.
"...Fuck me..."
You mumbled the expression exasperatedly, eyes shut, and he breathed a chuckle as one hand left your waist to cup your jaw.
"I'm trying." He joked with that charming smile plastered on his mouth. You couldn't help but laugh despite being breathless, and what little breath you did have hitched as soon as his lips brushed your jawline. You pressed your hands to his chest, not pushing but simply grounding yourself. His lips trailed down your neck, as far as he could reach before being blocked by the collar of your leather jacket. His hot breath wafted over your skin as he went back up, thumb tilting your chin upwards so he could lay his lips on the underside of it, making you shiver with each contact. You sighed, eyes still shut blissfully.
"...Keep touching and kissing me like that and you won't have to keep trying for much longer...."
You could feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin, and he peppered a few more kisses up your cheek to near your ear.
"I like the chase..."
You giggled softly and buried a hand in his hair, pulling back to gaze into his eyes - which had softened out significantly. You tilted your head and grinned.
"Didn't sound like that a minute ago."
Slowly, you traced your finger along the shell of his ear, brushing against all his piercings along the way. He shivered hard and dropped his head against your shoulder, letting out a sound dangerously close to a moan.
"What do you want from me, woman?"
You couldn't help but laugh as your ran your hand in soothing circles through his hair. He stayed in that position, just holding you and breathing you in as the two of you let the slightly cooler evening air dampen the sizzling tension. Eventually, he pulled himself back up from your embrace.
"We should both get home..." He murmured as he cupped your cheeks with both of his hands, thumbs tracing circles on your skin. You responded simply with a hum, knowing he was right but honestly reluctant to agree. He could see your hesitation clear as day and it made a smile pull at his lips. So softly, he swiped a thumb over your plump bottom lip, making it part with the top one. Then, without any more fanfare, he pressed his lips firmly to yours, warm and plump and tasting of spices. It was painfully brief, and you found yourself chasing those comforting pillows as soon as they lifted off of yours. He ran a thumb over one of your eyelids and the stepped back.
"Get home safely. I better see you on Monday."
You giggled, staying leaned against your bike as he walked backwards away from you with a smirk.
"If you're lucky." You teased, and he bit his own lip before calling back.
"I'll be praying!" He clasped his hands together in a prayer gesture to further emphasise his point and you barked out a laugh that only made him flash more teeth.
The ride home that evening was the first time you could barely focus on the road stretched out ahead of you. Everything about him had completely infiltrated your being: his eyes, his laugh, his touch, his kiss, how he made you feel. You could hardly wait to see him again.
⋆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Monday didn't come fast enough and the work day itself snailed on just the same. Your eyes drifted to the little clock in the corner of the computer screen about every thirty seconds, a sigh peeling from your lips every single time. When your boss finally dismissed you for your break, freeing you from the shackles that held you to that chair, you shot up and were out the door and in the parking lot in record time. You didn't even know if he'd be there yet, the sun still high in the sky, but you couldn't wait. You practically threw your jacket and helmet on and sped off down that route that had become so familiar to you.
The lot was quite full that day, but not of people - of cars. Cars of whoever worked in the surrounding buildings during the day. It made the whole area almost unrecognisable, but the top of a tall, signed truck in the very corner of the lot acted like a beacon in the ocean of vehicles. With a huff, you pulled your jacket off and left it with your helmet on the seat of your bike, the summer sun scorching down on you. Your smile as you hurried over to that corner was uncontained, your heart banging in a way thay adrenaline had never caused.
The truck itself even looked different, however, with the door and window shut, and menu board not yet placed on the outside, but you could still hear the gentle clanging inside of the man you yearned for. You strolled up to the shut door with an excited smile, like someone about to jump out and surprise a loved one, and tapped your fist a few times against the metal. You heard a sigh, something being placed down on the counter, and only two heavy footsteps before the door opened. You stood with your hands folded behind your back and a grin - one that widened the instant his eyes fell on your face. They expanded, then softened immediately with recognition.
"Hey, beautiful. What are you doing here?"
There it was: that hit of shivers all over your body that you'd been craving all weekend. You bit your lip, smile still stubbornly pulling your mouth up, and his own immediately followed suit.
"I'm on break. Thought I'd come and...see you."
He hummed and his eyes fell to your torso, your blouse, for once not covered by a thick layer of leather.
"God," he sighed, "it is pretty."
You giggled and his grin widened.
"Well..." he started, extending a hand out, "get in here so I can kiss you."
He didn't have to tell you twice. You took his hand and he tugged you up the little stairs and into the truck you'd gotten used to staring into. With an arm strapped around your waist, the other reached to pull the door shut again, making your two completely alone in the cramped space.
He immediately did as he said; his hand that was on the door moved to your cheek to keep you still as his mouth descended on yours. You hummed and ran your hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and into his hair. A pleased purr escaped from his lips as your fingers threaded through his smooth locks - something you'd realised he must like.
Again, even with his lips actively moving against yours, the corners of your mouth pulled up happily. He pulled back and used his hand on your cheek to fix up some hair that had fallen into your face.
"What's made you all sunshine and rainbows?" His voice was gruff from kissing, creating a heavy knot low in your stomach.
"You..." You whispered, and watched his pupils dilate in response.
He didn't answer with words, instead crashing his lips back onto yours with a fervour that made your knees weak. He backed you up against the fridge, the hand on your cheek flying down to your thigh, gripping and hooking it up over his hip for leverage. His tongue pressed into your mouth simultaneously as his knee pressed between your thighs right where you were starting to need the friction, a combination made solely to turn you into putty in his hands. But you'd never go down without a fight.
One of your hands trailed it's way back down his chest, tracing the lines you could feel through the fabric of his button up as you went down his torso, to reach the hem at the bottom. Your precise fingers pushed up under the fabric, finally really feeling that toned skin you'd desperately wanted to since the day you met him. A puff of hot air from his nose told you that your touch wasn't going unnoticed, and your chest swelled with pride. Until his own hand on your waist copied, stronger fingers meeting skin under your top. The soft moan that bubbled up against your will clearly spurred him on, as he didn't stop at your waist. His aggressive hand pushed the fabric up, goosebumps on your skin climbing as did his touch, until your whole side was exposed to air. His hand was toying with the lace trim of your bra, touch barely brushing the underside of your breast.
He revelled in teasing you; the sounds you made, the way your muscles twitched under his touch, your heavy breathing. He was addicted. His hand went even higher, and your breath hitched hard in your throat when the rough skin of his thumb circled over your hardened peak. Your legs were just decoration at that point and you clung to his shoulder as you put all your weight onto his knee at your centre. The pressure there made your hips twitch, a barely-there grind outside of your control. With one last lick, he pulled his mouth away from yours and, one by one, took away every touch from your aroused body. His hand left your breast and kindly tugged your shirt back down, smoothing it out. His hand on your thigh put your leg back down before removing his knee, and you stubbornly bit back a whimper.
With one hand innocently on your waist, the other free to wipe his own swollen mouth with the back of his hand, you couldn't help but glare up at him. He dropped the busy hand back down to the other side of your waist, lips curled up in a devious smile.
"You should get back to work, shouldn't you, love?" His voice was teasing with an unmistakable coarse undertone - something you'd done to him.
"Asshole..." you murmed, and his smirk widened. "I'm gonna be worked up all day now."
You confessed without an ounce of shame, sharp eyes still locked on his. He huffed a laugh and squeezed at your waist.
"Awww...sorry, pretty."
His tone only turned you on more while also fueling your annoyance. Without even needing to think about it, your hand that was still on his stomach quickly trailed down past his belt, palm pressing against the half-hard problem of his own. He hissed, and you could physically feel it stiffening further under your touch despite the fabric barrier. It was incredibly erotic.
"...Sorry now?" You matched your tone to his as you stared into his eyes, now narrowed, eyebrows pulled tight, and jaw clenched hard. The voice he pushed out from that taut expression was deep and harsh.
"Oh, you're really getting it tonight."
The sheer excitement from that statement made your core flutter like crazy and a wicked grin overtake your face. You removed your hand, with a twitch and a huff from him, and stepped out of his grasp to go for the door.
"I'll see you then, Woo~"
⋆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
For both of you, the day was wittled away at by dirty fantasies spinning in either of your minds - things you knew would and could happen that night. As you typed on your computer, you thought about how those strong hands would feel between your legs; as he chatted to and served the first customers of the evening, he thought about bending you over that bike of yours.
The time it took for you to get from work to where his truck stood was practically a blip in your mind with how fast you got there. With your bike parked up, you tossed you leather jacket off over the seat and pulled your hair up into a high ponytail, little wavy pieces falling to frame your face. You sighed and smoothed out the blouse he'd rumpled hours earlier as you made your way over. He was turned and looking in the fridge, and you used the opportunity to slide up to the window smoothly, arms cross on the counter there. Those back muscles of his looked so grabbable.
He spun back around with a jar of some deep red paste in one hand and jumped a little at the sight of you. He breathed a chuckle at your pose and smirk, placing the jar on the counter beside him.
"Hey, you." He said before going back to the fridge, rummaging for more ingredients. You stood on your toes to lean further in, curious.
"How's service?" You asked earnestly, and he shut the fridge with a sigh.
"A little slow but...it's a Monday." He shrugged, placing everything he'd gathered in a group on the counter. "How was work? Get anything done?" He shot a smirk over his shoulder and you rolled your eyes.
"Barely. Dickhead."
He laughed and turned fully to face you, putting his weight on his hands flat on the counter so he could lean in a bit.
"I'm surprised you're any better off than me." You added, eyes flickering down his body then up again, the implication of how you'd touched him earlier obviously hanging there. His grin only widened.
"I'm not. I'm rock hard under this apron, y'know?"
Your eyes widened, heat prickling at the back of your neck.
"Actually?"
He snorted, standing up straight again with arms crossed over his chest.
"No. It's been hours. I'd have taken myself to the hospital already if I still had a hard-on."
You scoffed and turned your head away, mostly embarrassed you'd revealed yourself to be so unknowledgable on male anatomy.
"Aww. Disappointed?" He teased, that same tone that always made you want to bring him to his knees.
"Hell no." You laughed, turning back to gaze at him. "That would ruin the fun of getting to work you up again."
His grin rose on one side, clearly amused.
"Well...," he stepped back, gathering the jars of ingredients he'd retrieved and bringing them to the counter in front of you so he could keep talking to you while cooking, "that ponytail is already doing something fierce to me, love."
You giggled giddily, making his eyes soften.
"Okay." He placed a deep pan on the stove to his left and flickered the flame to life. "Enough flirting. I'm cooking you something." He stated, determined and sincere. It made you laugh.
"You're so hot when you get serious, Wooyoung." You leaned your cheek on one hand, watching him. He stuck a finger out at you.
"What did I just say?"
You snorted, dropping your head against the counter before lifting it again and putting on you best serious face despite the grin you couldn't quite keep down.
"Okay, okay...what are you making me today, chef?"
He preened at the title, puffing out his chest a bit as he cracked open a jar of what looked like some kind of broth.
"Something warm and heavy. You'll need your energy for later." He said it so seriously, as if he wasn't reminding you that he'd be going to town on your body in a few hours. "Tteokbokki."
His accented speech pulled you right from the dirty fantasy he'd just plunged you into, but more importantly-
"I know that one!" You perked up in recognition, having gone to Korean BBQ places once or twice in the past with friends. What you knew for certain, however, is that his tteokbokki would blow those places out of the water.
He chuckled, eyes soft with genuine endearment at your excitement. "Smart girl."
Your stomach immediately twisted and fluttered. Coming from any other man, you'd smack them upside the head for talking down to you in such a way, but when it was him...damn.
You watched, intrigued, as he poured the broth from the jar into the now hot pan, followed by a healthy spoon of that deep red paste he'd pulled out first, and then a generous heaping of sugar. He stirred it before gently emptying in a portion of rice cakes, which he let simmer as he chopped up a few sprouts of green onion. They went into the pot next, followed by cute flower-shaped fish cakes and a couple strangely tiny and round boiled eggs. Your stomach growled as you watched the whole thing bubble, the pungent spice carrying to your nose as if to tease you.
"Damn, I wish you drooled at me like that." His voice cut through the thick aroma and you eyes darted to him, watching you as he stirred the tteokbokki. You laughed, cheeks going pink, expression bashful.
"Shut it. I'm hungry."
"Well," he sighed, "it'll have to boil down for a good 10 minutes, so practice your patience, my dear."
You groaned and dropped your head dramatically, earning a laugh from him (even if doing that wasn't very difficult).
"Guess you'll have to talk to me to pass the time." He added and, with your head still on the counter, you let loose an even louder and more dramatised groan. He laughed again, loud, with a little of that high pitched cackle you'd decided you loved slipping through. It made you smile against the cool wood of the counter.
Despite your theatrical indignation, talk to him was exactly what you did. You'd been continuosly chatting night after night for over a week, and yet you never ran out of topics to pull up. Everything with him was easy: talking, joking, flirting, just being yourself. You never felt awkward, scared, or anxious. You felt...seen. Cared for. Special to him. And, although you had yet to put into words what was between the two of you, you prayed it never ended.
⋆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
"Mas-issge deuseyo." He slid the container of steaming tteokbokki towards you before presenting you a skewer with a melodramatic flourish and a cat-like grin. You giggled and took it from him with a playful yet polite bow of your head. Without hesitation, you speared a chewy rice cake with your skewer and shoved it in your mouth. You could tell it was delicious, but all you could focus on for that first bite was the temperature.
"Awwaahh, haahhtt!" You breathed out the steam between your near-indecipherable words, and he cackled.
"The one time I don't warn you!" His voice itself was high between his cackles, the man doubled over against the counter in amusement and exasperation.
You quickly chewed through the offending rice cake and swallowed it before it could do any more damage, meanwhile Wooyoung was wiping at the entertained tears in his eyes. With a sigh, he retrieved his own water bottle and passed it to you, expression twisting into something more worried and somewhat guilty.
"You okay, baby?" He asked, a concerned smile on his lips. You didn't even process the term of endearment, glugging down the cold water and letting it coat your burnt tongue. It just felt that natural and right.
You took in a deep breath as you put the water bottle down, face portraying how sorry for yourself you felt. He sighed and gently placed a hand on your head before leaning down to blow on the dish before you. You gently pushed his hand away and back, letting out an embarrassed and wry laugh.
"Thanks, mom." You joked, making him smile as he leaned down, his chin in his palm.
"I just don't want you to hurt yourself again, cutie."
The butterflies in your stomach were practically rampaging; every word that spilled from the man's mouth made you want to simultaneously cuddle him and also give him the best head he'd ever felt.
"I won't." You reassured with a sigh as you stabbed another rice cake, making a show to blow on it, before popping it in your mouth. You instantly hummed and shut your eyes, nodding. He chuckled.
"You just love everything I make, don't you?"
You nodded eagerly, bringing his cackle out. You swallowed the bite and opened your eyes. "You're an amazing chef, Woo. Genuinely."
There wasn't a hint of deception or exaggeration to your words - you honestly thought that way about him. He sighed and grabbed a napkin, his smile soft as he wiped a tiny smudge of sauce from the corner of your mouth.
"God...I'm gonna go down on you like...crazy style."
He said it so seriously and without falter that you couldn't help but burst out laughing. His grin expanded, a little snicker slipping from his lips.
"Are you reading my mind!?" You exclaimed, and he blinked, lips pressing into a pout in confusion. You grabbed at his hand and explained between breaths. "I just thought that about you! God..."
You sighed and dropped your head against the counter, earning a soft chuckle from the man.
"We're just...tuned to the same frequency, my love."
My love. Not just 'love'. My.
⋆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The rest of the evening was spent devouring the delicious tteokbokki he made and flirting relentlessly. You were so glad it was Monday, the slow service being bad for his profits but amazing for the time you could spend together.
You were there well into the night - until he eventually began to pack up and clean. He dumped all his dishes in the sink he had in the back of the truck and started on the counters, spraying and wiping them down in practiced motions. You leaned your face against the windowsill, eyes sparkling up at him.
"I can come in there and help you if you want?" You offered and he gave an exasperated huff.
"Baby, it's my job."
That term, again, so casual yet so sure, and you actually picked up on it that time. It made your stomach clench deliciously.
"Still. You'd be done faster..." It was obvious what you were implying as you teasingly traced shapes on the counter with an excited grin. That finally made him take pause, his gaze slowly shifting over to you. You quickly put on your pleading puppy-dog eyes, and you could basically see the shiver travel up his spine. He sighed and ran a hand down his face.
"...Get in here then." He mumbled, and you instantly perked up, quickly rounding the truck to the door and pulling it open. You hopped up the stairs and stuck your hands on your hips.
"What can I do, chef?"
His pupils dilated and his posture became straighter at that, like a dog hearing his favourite word. He gestured back to the piled up sink and you nodded with determination.
You were right, of course, and the two of you got the place tidied in no time. He'd tucked away the cleaning spray and tossed the cloth into a bin hidden in one of the cabinets just as you pulled the drain on the sink. You were watching the water spin hypnotically down the drain when his strong arms suddenly snaked around your waist from behind. You giggled.
"Woo...I still have to put these away." You laid your hand flat on the counter next to where the dish rack held the dripping dishes. He hummed and goosebumps spread over your skin from where his nose pressed into the crook of your neck.
"Later..."
He kissed the skin softly and you could already feel your legs weakening, the heat from his body pressed up right against your back soaking into you completely.
"Baby..." You reciprocated the endearing term, and a prideful purr slipped out from his lips right before they descended on your neck once more. They latched on, and you could feel the gentle pressure of suction under his warm mouth. Your core was already warming just at that. You sighed, the sound heavy and hot, before giving in.
You spun in his grasp, forcing his lips off from where he'd connected to you, just so you could lean the rest of your body against him and loop your arms around his neck. His eyes were deep and his cheeks were a splotchy red; he was clearly feeling the heat as much as you.
You bit your lip as the sudden urge to wind him up once more entered your brain. You slid your hands down to his chest and pushed until he was blocked between you and the bench behind him. One hand of his left your waist to reach back and shut the window, finally giving you complete privacy, while the other hand kneaded and caressed with the threat of slipping under the fabric of your blouse already looming.
"...So you really were thinking about me all day...?" He questioned, voice low and rich.
"Non-stop." You huffed, making a show to clench your thighs, which he felt clearly while being pressed against you. He almost groaned at that, instead going back to the spot on your neck already turning purple. He kissed over it, then up to right under your ear. You tilted your head just as his nose nudged the back of your ear, teeth clamping down on the pierced lobe.
"Fuck, you're beautiful...so gorgeous..." His words were reverent and yet simultaneously dipped in sin, and his fingers had finally started to push up your blouse.
Then, without any kind of warning, those hands on your waist tightened hard and he lifted you, spinning to place you on the part of the bench he was just leaning against. You gasped softly, hands gripping the edge. He didn't give you much time to think about it, however, as his hands parted your thighs to push himself between them. Saying you were turned on was an understatement.
His eyes were so intense, heavy-lidded and full of fire, your instinct was to make a joke to dampen that fire.
"This isn't very sanitary." You smiled, but his lips didn't copy and his eyes stayed serious. One hand slid under your shirt and up your back, forcing you to arch into him as he leaned further over you. The other buried itself confidently in your ponytail, gripping and tugging at the locks.
"I will spend the next week sanitising this place completely from top to bottom if it means I can fuck you right here, right now."
You were stunned, the only moving part of you being the throbbing of your core in response to that absolute filth. The next part to move was your legs, parting just a bit further as if begging. He smirked and slid his hand out from under your shirt and down to the underside of your thigh. He pushed it up, high on his side, while pulling your head back by the hair. His lips found your throat, all tongue and teeth from top to bottom, continuing past to the dip between your collarbones, and down further as far as the blouse would allow.
Although, unlike when he was kissing your neck with your leather jacket on, the hand in your hair simply moved to pop open each button with ease. His warm tongue trailed a path down between your breasts, down your ribs to your navel, kissing your belly button hard, before he was biting and pulling at the waistband of your jeans like an animal. Your blouse was completely open, the hand responsible for that wrapped back around your ponytail and pulling until the top of your head met the wall, practically flattening you out for him like a feast.
You watched with hazy eyes as he chewed and tugged on the metal button holding your jeans together, occasionally nipping at the skin above. His nose nudged the waistband down just a bit, exposing a tiny sliver of the lace hem of your panties, to which he eagerly snatched up between those active teeth and pulled at for fun. The whole time, his eyes went back and forth between being shut tight for complete focus, and being open and staring up into yours with a sultry heat.
At some point, one of your hands on the edge of the bench had nuzzled into the hair on the back of his head, encouraging. He licked a stripe up from your waistband to your belly button before switching it up completely and going all the way down. He almost dropped completely to his knees to bury his mouth and nose against your denim-clad core unabashedly, the sudden friction forcing a short moan up from your throat.
His breath was hot even through the thick fabric, nose nudging infuriatingly against the spot of denim that covered your clit, tongue flattening and pressing against where dampness had already begun to soak through. He groaned, the sound muffled. His eyes were now fully shut and his brows were knotted like they got when he cooked - in complete focus and fixation.
"Fuck, you're gonna taste so good."
You could only just make out his words with a mouthful of a fabric hindering their audibility, but it still made another spot of moisture leak out from your weeping hole.
Having a hand in his hair suddenly took less priority in comparison to getting his lips locked around your bare folds as soon as you could, so you untangled those fingers and used them to pop open the button that was still slightly wet from his mouth all over it just minutes before. His eyes immediately snapped open at the sound, like the big cat in hunt that he was. You pulled the zipper down slowly, seductively, even if it pained you to be so patient. But you weren't the only one.
He yanked at your jeans with such speed and force that he almost yanked you off the counter with them. You gasped and laughed, both hands gripping the bench hard, and his lips lifted on one side in a mischevious yet apologetic smile. He kissed your knee slowly before trying again and managing to have your pants on the floor without bringing you down with them. Then, his eyes met your core fully, thighs wide open. The way the wet, navy blue fabric perfectly cupped you, the colour just light enough that he could make out the creases of your folds in detail of how the fabric stuck to them. He wished he could simultaneously stare at the sight forever and yet also tear the delicate fabric to shreds with his teeth.
His hands slid reverently up your thighs to your ass cheeks, cupping them and gripping them to pull you closer to the edge of the bench and, in turn, closer to his mouth. He shut his eyes and nuzzled into the fabric, taking a long, slow breath. Sparks bloomed from your core and outwards, spreading across you body as he laid open-mouthed kiss after open-mouthed kiss on your soaked core, lips soft and eager. Your heels dug into his back and you dropped your head against the bench with a soft thump.
"Woo..."
He was pressed so close that you felt with perfect detail as he smirked, followed by a nip at your clothed folds. You flinched and gasped, pulling another chuckle from him.
"You're addicting." He murmured, eyes gazing up your body before being drawn quickly back down to what he was most craving.
He kissed your inner thigh, then nipped, then licked the spot soothingly. He used that pattern as he made his way up and down either of your thighs, littering your skin with little red marks. His fingers hooked into the hem of your panties and peeled them down, eyes honed in on your slick centre. He licked his lips as he got the fabric fully untangled from your legs, slinging it onto his shoulder like a TV show chef would a kitchen towel. His hands went right back to gripping the soft flesh of your ass cheeks, eyes never leaving the tantalising sight of your pretty pink flower, delicate and shining.
With a final heavy breath in and out, he dived in with shut eyes. He flattened his tongue out and licked a long stripe from your hole up to your clit, placing a sloppy kiss on the sensitive nub. You gripped hard at the edge of the bench, closing your eyes so you could focus fully on the amazing sensations of his warm tongue tracing up and down your folds. He groaned, the vibration right againt your clit, and you whole body trembled.
"...Tastes so good..." He murmured, voice rough. His hands on your ass pushed your hips up firmer against his mouth, giving you no room to jerk or twitch, even when his nose prodded at your clit and sent tremors up into your belly. You were a panting mess under him as his tongue licked over and into your opening, occasionally sliding all the way up to circle around your bundle of nerves.
It was when he closed his lips around that bundle, tugging and sucking at it, that you felt a tight coil forming low in your belly.
"Wooyoung..." You panted, forearm thrown over your eyes. Your hips pulled and fidgeted, as if wanting to get away from the heavy feeling he was building inside you, but his strong fingers were digging so hard into the meat of your backside that you knew there'd be marks.
Your hole started to pulse and clench, and he flattened his tongue out over it to feel it while purposefully shaking his head left and right to rub his nose against your clit. Just as you teetered on that edge, he pulled it all back. His nose left your clit, tongue retreated back into his mouth, even pulled back far enough that his breath wasn't wafting over you. The explosion of pleasure that was so close to overtaking you frustratingly faded away, and you groaned.
"Ughhh...Wooyoung you...fuckface..."
He chuckled, and you moved your arm and opened your eyes to look down at him for the first time since he started eating you out. His chin and lips were drenched, tip of his nose glazed, and his grin wicked. He grabbed the panties he'd left on his shoulder and used them to wipe off his face, making a show of taking a deep breath into them before he shoved the pair into his pocket. The sight only exacerbated the sexual frustration he'd caused.
He sighed adoringly and placed his hands on either side of you, leaning down over you to whisper.
"So cute..."
You glared at him, chest still heaving. His eyes were glossy and hazy, pupils expanded madly, like a real tiger pinning down a gazelle.
He brought a hand back between your legs just to lightly and slowly stroke his thumb over your swollen clit, each gentle touch reigniting that pit in your belly and building it higher and higher once more, all while he stared into your eyes. You knew you should've just grabbed his wrist and pushed it away, knowing he was just going to do the same thing again, but you were putty in his hands. Your eyes fluttered shut and you let your lips part with breathless moans, a sight that made his grin fall and his gaze heavier. Seeing you like that, so willing and accepting of the pleasure he was giving despite the teasing...it made him painfully hard.
Again, like you thought, he pulled that hand away just as white sparks began to pop behind your eyelids. You groaned again, the sound coming out crackly and a bit whiny.
"Fucking hate you..." You murmured, eyes still shut and eyebrows pulled down. His eyes narrowed in genuine affection for you despite the situation and, before he could properly think about it, he had leaned down close to your ear to whisper to you again.
"I fucking love you..."
The instant those words left his mouth, two long fingers plunged inside you as if to distract from the heavy confession he just let slip from his lips. You gasped, leaning your head back and baring your throat. He took the invite with zero hesitation, kissing, licking, and biting at the beautiful skin of your neck as his fingers stroked at and explored your velvety inner walls. As if his mouth and one hand weren't enough stimulation, his second hand slithered under your back and effortlessly snapped open the clasp of your bra. He couldn't get it off with your blouse still on your arms, so he settled for simply shoving the lace cups up and out of his way.
That free hand got a fistful of your breast, squeezing and kneading, fingers tweaking and rolling the nub. You were moaning completely unabashedly at that point, unable to even hear yourself over the sensations.
His fingers eventually found that especially sensitive spot at the very front of your channel, making your hips jerk tellingly. He pulled the two fingers out before plunging them back in hard, aiming right for that spot with purpose and precision. He set a brutal pace immediately, the erotic squelch of each plunge filling the space and mixing with your moans and his heavy breaths like a dirty melody. It was the perfect recipe to have that knot in your belly back fast and with a vengeance. You clawed at his back with both hands, true to the wildlife documentary nature of the scene, and moaned out his name unashamedly. And yet, three times is a charm.
He yanked his hand out, stealing away that gorgeous orgasm you were miliseconds away from for the third time and leaving you clenching around nothing.
"Fucks sake, Wooyoung!" You cried out, but it was instantly cut off by his sloppy mouth on yours. He pulled back with a heavy huff, making just enough space to hurriedly untuck his button-up from his pants and clumsily undo them, shoving them down to pool at his ankles along with his already dampened boxers. He grabbed one of your hands and brought it down to touch him, a slight moan slipping through his lips despite them being pressed tight. Your own breath hitched and you swallowed, glassy eyes zeroing in on his erection.
He was violently hard, his cock twitching with any slight touch or stroke of the pads of your fingers. The tip was already leaking, and you couldn't help but to run your index finger up the shaft and over his slit. He dropped his head against your chest with a moan, trembling, and you suddenly realised how the roles had reversed. Despite how he'd been ravaging you like a wild animal with captured prey, his eyes now looked up at you, needy and pleading.
"Y/n...," the use of your actual name sent cascading shivers down your spine, "can I fuck you? Please?"
You felt even more moisture push out of your already soaked hole - if that were even possible. You wrapped your fingers around the girth of him and he groaned, nuzzling between your breasts again.
"That's literally all I want right now..." You whispered, a sort of smile pulling at your lips from just how absurd yet endearing you found it that he was still asking for your consent after all of that.
But he did not need any more clarification. His hands wrapped around your thighs and he yanked you close to the edge of the counter once more, the weight of his cock immediately settling in the folds on your core. You breathed heavy as he purposefully moved his hips back and forth, dragging the length of it along your pussy over and over, the thick head of him catching on your clit with each pass. Then, after a few more strokes, he let the head fall into the dip where your centre opened up to your entrance. You naturally attempted to clench your thighs, but they were still being held apart by his arms, and he responded by pushing your legs even higher and opening you up even more.
Your stomach tightened and a subtle whimper slipped from your lips, which faded into a moan as that thick head popped into your entrance, the rest of him slipping in deep with ease. You wanted something to grab but all you had was the countertop you were actively being plundered on. Your fingers curled hard around the edge of it as he slowly led into a rhythm. The slapping of skin on skin every time his pelvis met your ass blended erotically with the wet squelch of his cock driving in deep, angled so perfectly that it tightened your chest and stomach to a point where you almost thought you were dying.
His breathing picked up, and so did his pace. He leaned forward to lay over you again, incidentally pushing your legs up higher as his hips snapped harder and faster. Your hands immediately moved from the bench to his back the moment he was in range, digging into his flexed back muscles for dear life. He groaned into your breasts, one knee clumsily bumping against the cupboard below the benchtop as he drove into you with such urgency and demand.
For the fourth and hopefully final time, that stiff knot in your belly reared it's head.
"Woo- fuck- baby...!" You cried, panting desperately as a scorching heat climbed across every nerve in your body. His hips were now switching erratically between a hard and fast pump, and a grind that pressed his plevic bone against your clit just right, speeding you towards that ending. He let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a purr before huffing breathlessly.
"Baby girl...fuck...where...where do you- w-where should I...?"
It was scattered and broken and you were barely coherent yourself, but you knew what he was asking. Your hands on his back flew down to grab both his ass cheeks instead, nails digging in and earning a hiss from him.
"I'll deal with it tomorrow...!" You groaned, head falling back, and he nodded eagerly.
He bit down hard on the meat of one of your breasts as he pushed his hips as fast as he could with already shaky legs, finally sending you careening over the edge into bliss. The warmth of his own release filling you only extended your ecstacy, the two of you clinging to each other until the intense feeling mellowed out into a hazy, syrupy sweetness. He released your legs and let them fall to a more comfortable poisition. You did the same with your grip, instead bringing your hands up to card through his sweaty locks.
The moment you gathered some breath back, you knew what you had to say.
"...You love me?" You asked, voice quiet as if afraid you'd imagined it, but the way he picked himself up a bit to gaze down at you told you that you weren't crazy. His breathed out, a wry smile curling his lips.
"You heard that? I was hoping I could...," he ran a hand through your hair, pulling out what was left of your ponytail, "...fuck it out of that pretty brain of yours."
You frowned and your voice went watery.
"You didn't mean it?" There was clear disappointment in your tone and his eyes instantly went wide with a mix of shock, awe, and worry.
"No! Baby, no! I mean, yes! I-," he sighed, "I meant it, I just didn't mean to say it...y'know?" He cupped your cheek with his hand, letting his thumb trace over your still-flushed skin. "I was sure it was too early into our relationship."
Your frown morphed into a tiny, amused, yet endeared, smile.
"Well, can it really be 'too early into our relationship' if there never was one established to begin with?" You questioned, and his whole expression fell in bewilderment.
"...There wasn't?"
You laughed out loud at that, curling up into him with a snort before pulling back and cupping both his cheeks.
"No! We haven't even exchanged numbers, Wooyoung!"
He looked genuinely dumbfounded and adorably heartbroken as you giggled at his sweet display of innocence right after insanely sinful sex.
"Fuck...I'm so dumb, I'm sorry y/n." He dropped his head into your chest and your ran your hands through his hair soothingly.
"Hey...we can still start now." He huffed softly, pouting. You smiled and leaned down to whisper. "I love you, Wooyoung."
He immediately looked up at you, eyes shining with love and relief. Then, that beautiful grin cracked his pout, and he suddenly crushed you in his arms, smushing his face into your boobs. You giggled sweetly, your heart feeling all warm and fuzzy in the afterglow of everything. He lifted his head again, grinning with a cheek squished to your tit.
"So, I can have your number?"
You immediately burst into laughter, and his own high-pitched giggles followed suit. You nodded happliy, so insanely amused at how backwards the scenario felt, but you didn't care. He hummed and nuzzled into your chest again, making his voice muffled the next time he spoke.
"And you'll be my girlfriend? And come home with me tonight?"
They weren't even really questions. You loved the man in your arms. The bold and mischevious yet simultaneously clumsy enough man to forget to ask you to be his - to just assume you were in a relationship. The man you wanted to be able to talk to while you were at work, and see when he wasn't work. The man that fed you after closing time that one night, who continued feeding you delicious meals from his food truck, and rode on the back of your bike with you despite being worried for your safety.
Wooyoung was a man you wanted in every aspect of your life - it was a no-brainer.
⋆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
♡ a/n: I LOVED THIS. he has been wrecking me like CRAZY so this was so beautiful and perfect and I LOVEEE this dynamic more than anything. lemme know with a comment or dm or ask or wtv if u want to be on my tag list for fics :3, im not slowing down
"Did you get your taste back? Or do you just need a little love"
Warnings: bit of angst, not a sad ending but not a happy one either.
KATTDO Masterlist
The neon lights of Seoul blurred past the car window as Wooyoung leaned his head against the cool glass, earbuds in but the music off.
The city moved too fast outside. Cars rushed by. People walked beneath glowing signs. Restaurants stayed open late, couples laughed on sidewalks, and somewhere in the distance, Seoul continued existing like it always did.
But Wooyoung felt stuck.
Practice had run late. Again.
Another night where his body moved before his mind could catch up. Another night where he repeated the same choreography until every step became automatic, until his muscles remembered what his brain couldn’t stop replaying.
He should have been thinking about the comeback.
The stages.
The fans.
The next schedule waiting for him in the morning.
Instead, he was thinking about the past.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He almost ignored it.
He should have ignored it.
But something in him already knew.
His fingers pulled the phone out, and he let out a slow knowing breath when he saw the name.
A name he hadn’t deleted. A name that he tried to forget.
A name he had convinced himself didn’t matter anymore.
Hey, Woo. It’s me. Saw the comeback stage. You guys did amazing! The song is crazy good! Im proud of you guys! Its been a while...coffee sometime?
It’s me.
As if she even needed to say it.
As if her name wasn’t still sitting in his contacts like a scar that had healed over but never completely disappeared.
Three long years.
Three years since the last conversation.
Three years since the long final argument. The nail in the coffin.
Three years since they stood across from each other, both too hurt and too proud to admit they were losing something neither of them wanted to lose.
Wooyoung stared at the message for the rest of the drive back to the dorms.
A smarter person would have deleted the message and your contact before putting the phone away.
A smarter person would have remembered every single reason it ended.
The days long fights.
The assortment of misunderstandings.
The moments where love was there and real, but somehow it never felt like enough.
But the problem with memories was that they never played the whole story.
They only showed you the thing you missed the most.
Her laugh.
Her hand in his.
Her body molded against his.
The way she looked at him like he hung the stars before everything got ruined.
His thumb moved before he could stop himself.
Hey
Thank you...it has been a while
I have some free time tomorrow if thats cool?
The second the messages were sent, he regretted it.
And the second after that…he wondered if he had been waiting for her to come back all along.
The next day he stood at the door just staring at it, trying to go over all of the pros and cons of him going. Eventually he groaned and told himself it was just coffee, it doesn't mean anything. Before he could talk himself out of it again he was out the door heading to his car.
She was already there when he arrived.
Of course she was.
Sitting in the corner booth of the café, fingers wrapped around a cup she wasn’t drinking from.
Same habit. Same nervous gesture. Same way she looked out the window when she was thinking too much.
The years had changed her though. Not in a bad way. Not at all actually. Her hair was longer. He always loved when her hair was longer. Her style was different. He noticed pieces of his own style in her outfit which made the corner of his lips twitch up.
There was a confidence in the way she carried herself that he hadn't had the privilege of experiencing.
But somehow, seeing her felt like walking into his childhood bedroom.
Everything was familiar. And that was the most dangerous part.
“Wooyoungie”
His breath caught at the old nickname.
Her voice was soft. Casual.
Like they hadn’t spent three years apart.
Like she hadn’t been the only person who actually knew him.
Like she hadn’t also been the person who knew exactly how to hurt him.
He forced a smile. “Hey Y/N, You look good.”
She smiled back. God he missed her smile.
“You do too Woo.”
The words were simple.
But they carried years and so many memories behind them.
They started with safe conversations.
The kind people have when they’re pretending there isn’t a history between them.
She asked about ATEEZ, about how the guys were doing.
He asked about her job, her family.
She laughed about a story he told her of San at practice.
He teased her about how terrible she still is at baking.
For a moment, it felt easy. Almost too easy.
And Wooyoung hated it.
Because he remembered this.
He remembered how natural it was to talk to her. How she used to be the person he called after long days. The person he wanted to tell everything to. The person he also had to convince himself he could live without.
“So…”
Her voice pulled him back.
She was stirring her drink even though it was already mixed.
“How have you really been?”
Wooyoung looked at her.
Not the smile.
Not the version of herself she was wanting him to see.
Her.
“I’ve been good.” He paused. “Busy of course but, happy, mostly.” His lips curved slightly. “The guys keep me sane.”
She smiled. “Good I’m glad, you deserve to be happy”
The words hit harder than he expected.
He cleared his throat reaching for his cup, just needing something to do with his hands. “And you?” he asked.
Her fingers stopped moving as she looked up at him.
“I haven't heard from you in a while, honestly never really thought I would again” He tilted his head. “Everything okay?”
She looked down at where her fingers were tapping lightly against her cup.
“Life just got me thinking.” she said with a small shrug of her shoulder.
“About?” he asked, lifting his brow expectantly.
She hesitated.
“About old times.”
A familiar ache settled in his chest.
“Us?” his voice barely a whisper.
The word hung between them.
And suddenly he was back there.
Late nights after tours the exhaustion settled deep into his bones.
Hotel rooms that felt too empty even when she was there with him.
Her curled against him after arguments.
Her unbearable silence. The apologies that would follow.
The promises. The moments where they swore they understood each other.
And the moments where they realized they didn’t.
“I think about a lot of things,” he admitted. His fingers tapped against the table. “But mostly…”
He looked at her. “I think about how much can someone actually change”
Her expression softened.
“Woo—”
“Or if they just come back when they need something familiar.” he cut her off before she could speak.
The silence that followed was uncomfortable. So horribly uncomfortable.
But honest.
And maybe that was something they never had enough of.
Honesty.
“I’ve changed,” she said quietly, her eyes hopeful while looking at him.
Wooyoung looked away.
“I’m not the same girl who couldn’t handle your life. I understand now.” She swallowed. “The distance. The pressure. Everything.” Her voice became smaller. “I’m so sorry for how I left, I’ll never be able to forgive myself for how I just left you”
The words sounded right. They sounded like the words he wanted to hear all these years.
But something in him still hesitated.
Because apologies were so easy, they were just words. Anyone can say they are sorry, that they know they messed up. But change, that was so much harder.
And the thoughts came before he could stop it.
Did you get your taste back? Did you finally miss me? Or did you just miss the way I loved you?
They talked for another hour, about everything and nothing all at once.
She told him about how lonely she felt sometimes.
Wooyoung listened. Because that's what Wooyoung always did, he always listened to you.
He listened and he cared. He cared so deeply.
That’s what scared him the most.
Because he could still be that person for her. The one who fixed things. The one who made her feel wanted. The one who made all of those lonely feelings go away.
But he didn’t know if she wanted him, or if she just wanted the feeling of being loved so deeply by him.
Their knees brushed under the table.
Neither moved immediately.
And that small moment almost ruined him.
Because his body remembered before his mind did. It remembered the warmth and the comfort of how they used to fit together. It remembered the feeling of her soft skin underneath his hands.
He started thinking about something Hongjoong told him when he went seeking advice about coming today, that some people were like songs you stopped listening to but that you still remembered every single lyric and note change.
After about another half hour Wooyoung suggested that they take a walk, maybe the fresh air would help clear his head.
The Han River reflected the city lights as they walked beside the water.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then, suddenly, she reached for his hand. Just like she always used to before, almost like out of habit.
Her hand was warm. Familiar.
Wooyoung let her hold it. Just for a moment, just so he could let himself commit the feeling to memory.
Then he gently pulled away, putting both of his hands in his coat pockets.
Her expression changed. She wasn't hurt, there was a quiet understanding in her eyes.
“You really are different,” she whispered, her eyes glued to the path ahead of them.
He looked at her. “Different how?” his voice soft.
“More guarded.” her eyes refusing to meet his.
He laughed quietly and turned his attention to the river beside them as they walked. “Yeah, I uh, I had to become that way.”
The honesty hurt. She felt a pang in her chest knowing that she was responsible.
But it was true.
She looked at him finally, “Wooyoung I-I’m not here to hurt you again.”
He sighed and pursed his lips with a small nod “I really want to believe that.”
She stopped walking to face him “Then believe me.” her eyes full of something he didn't quite recognize on her. Regret maybe?
Wooyoung looked from the river to her.
“I’m trying Y/N”
The wind moved between them.
“I just wonder…” He swallowed. “Do you miss me?”
Her eyes softened. “Of course I do, so much Woo.” she immediately blurted out
“Or do you miss the way I made you feel?” he quietly continued finally meeting her eyes.
She went quiet. And that silence answered more than he wanted it to.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
Wooyoung closed his eyes briefly, nodding before running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know either.”
That was the hardest part.
He didn’t think she was lying, she was a lot of things but a liar was never one of them. She was honest, brutally sometimes, but always honest.
He didn’t think she was using him, she wouldn’t ever be that cruel.
He thought maybe she was just confused.
Maybe she missed him and missed the comfort.
Both could be true, he supposed.
But that didn’t mean they belonged together again.
“I don’t know if I can do this again,” he finally said.
She looked at him sadness swimming behind her eyes “Do what?”
“Go back.” His voice softened. “Because what if tomorrow you remember why it ended?”
Her eyes shimmered and she nodded in understanding, her fingers playing with the sleeves of her sweater “But what if tomorrow we’re different?”
That question stayed between them.
Because what if she was right.
I mean people could change. He knew that. He changed, so why couldn’t she?
Maybe some endings weren’t permanent.
But maybe some things were meant to stay in the past because thats where they were happiest.
“I missed you Woo” she whispered, her eyes desperate almost.
Wooyoung looked at her with a sad smile “I missed you too.” The confession felt like both relief and pain. “But missing someone doesn’t always mean you’re supposed to find your way back.”
She nodded slowly, tears starting to well up in her eyes. “I know.” her voice barely above a whisper.
And somehow, that hurt him more than if she had argued.
She hugged him. Longer than necessary. Like she was trying to memorize him.
“Take care of yourself, Woo.”
He closed his eyes, squeezing her back and holding her just as long. “You too.”
He finally let go and watched her disappear down the path.
The city swallowed her like it had swallowed every moment they had shared.
Back at the dorm, Wooyoung sat on his bed staring at their old messages.
Thousands of words. Proclamations of love, arguments, apologies.
Years of memories.
His thumb hovered over the keyboard.
He could send something.
I want to try again.
I’m scared.
All would be true.
All would also be dangerous.
So he didn’t.
Not yet at least.
Sometimes the hardest thing to figure out is whether you’re returning because you found your way back…or because you’re afraid of being alone.
Because some tastes never completely leave. Some people will always feel like home.
A/N: I have the entire series written out already and I was going to queue them all up and have them post at like random times but I have been working on this series for a minute and I'm honestly v excited about it so I think I'm just gonna post one a day :D
"You touched me goodnight, Butterflied both our bellies"
Warnings: None just fluffy fluff fluff <3
KATTDO Masterlist
The first thing you noticed about Yunho was how he had this quiet, effortless way of turning ordinary moments into something worth remembering. He didn’t need dramatic declarations, candlelit dinners, or large gestures under the stars. He made life feel meaningful in the gentlest, most consistent ways, ways that crept up on you until you realized you were smiling for no reason at all.
It was in the small things. The way he always made sure he positioned himself on the outside of the sidewalk, shielding you from the rush of traffic without a second thought. The way he remembered that you hated the crust on your bread except for the sourdough from the bakery near the dorm. The way he’d randomly text you photos throughout his hectic day, a cloud he swore was shaped like a dog but really it was just a normal cloud, a street sign with a typo, or a cat he saw on the way to practice, because he wanted to share parts of his day with you.
Yunho loved life loudly and openly. He laughed with his whole chest, danced like no one was watching even when everyone was, and approached each day like it was an adventure waiting to unfold. And somehow, without even trying, he made you fall in love with life a little more every single day too.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going this time?” you asked, glancing over at him with playful suspicion.
Yunho strolled a few steps ahead of you, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his oversized black jacket, a small, mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The city lights of Seoul painted soft golden reflections across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the warmth in his eyes.
He turned around and started walking backward, completely unbothered by the uneven pavement or the occasional curious glance from passersby. “I’m deeply offended that you have no faith in me.”
“You should be! Last time you swore you knew a shortcut, we walked in circles for twenty minutes and ended up right back where we started.”
“That was one time,” he protested, eyes widening in mock indignation.
“It was three times,” you corrected, holding up three fingers.
Yunho gasped dramatically, clutching a hand to his chest as if you’d wounded him.
“You’re actually keeping count? That’s really messed up Jagi”
“Of course I am. Someone has to keep you humble, pretty boy.”
He narrowed his eyes playfully, the tips of his ears turning red, tilting his head. “That’s dangerous information to give me. Now I know you pay attention to everything I do.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as the cool night breeze brushed through your hair. This was what you loved most about him, everything with Yunho felt easy. There was never any pressure to fill every silence with clever conversation or to always show your best side. You could walk beside him in comfortable quiet, sharing the same space, and it still felt full. No performances, no expectations, just two people enjoying each other’s company.
Tonight was meant to be simple. After a long day of rehearsals, meetings, and recordings, Yunho had texted you the moment his schedule wrapped up: Come walk with me? I need normal tonight. No fancy restaurant, no carefully planned itinerary. Just the two of you wandering through the quieter streets of Seoul as the city slowly wound down around you.
You knew how draining his days could be, the endless hours of practice that left his muscles aching, the weight of expectations, the way he poured every ounce of energy into performances so fans could feel something magical. There were nights when he barely had enough left for himself. Yet whenever he was with you, he always found a way to make sure you had every part of him.
“You’re staring again,” Yunho said suddenly, his voice warm with amusement.
You blinked, caught off guard. “What? No, I’m not.”
“You totally are, baby” he teased, slowing his steps so you could catch up. “I can feel it”
“I’m literally just walking.”
“You can walk and stare. I’m multi-talented like that too,” he replied with a wink.
You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “You’re very fresh tonight.”
“I’m very observant,” he countered smoothly. “And you’re very bad at hiding when you’re thinking about me.”
“You’re very annoying.”
“But you love me anyway.”
The easy confidence in his voice made you laugh out loud. Unfortunately for your pride, he was completely right. You loved him very much.
Eventually, your wandering led you to a small, brightly lit convenience store nestled on a quiet corner. The familiar chime of the door welcomed you as Yunho stepped inside first, holding the door open with one hand. Without hesitation, he headed straight for the refrigerators and pulled out two bottles of your favorite drink.
He held one out to you with a knowing grin.
“You’re going to say you don’t want one, but you are going to end up wanting one later” he said before you could speak.
You looked at the chilled bottle in his hand, condensation already forming on the plastic. “I was going to say that, because it’s late.”
“I know.” He shrugged, eyes sparkling. “You’re gonna drink it anyway”
A soft smile spread across your face as you accepted the drink. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Take care of me before I even realize I need it.”
For a brief moment, Yunho’s usual bright energy quieted. It was subtle, most people wouldn’t have even noticed it, but you noticed. You always noticed everything about him, the way his smile softened when he was genuinely touched, the slight dip of his gaze when emotions ran deeper than he knew how to express, the way he tried to play things off even when they meant the world to him.
“I love taking care of you,” he admitted quietly, his voice sincere.
Your heart melted a little more. “You don’t have to always do that, you know.”
“I know.” He looked at you then, really looked, under the fluorescent lights of the store. “But I want to.”
The simplicity of his answer nearly took your breath away. Yunho wasn’t saying it for praise or obligation. To him, love meant making someone else’s day lighter, their steps easier, their heart warmer. It was that straightforward.
Later, you found yourselves sitting side by side on an old wooden bench overlooking the glittering cityscape. The Han River shimmered in the distance, and thousands of apartment lights twinkled like scattered stars against the night sky. A gentle breeze carried the faint scent of street food from somewhere nearby.
Yunho leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him and tilting his head toward the sky. “You know what’s funny?” he murmured.
“Hm?”
“When I was younger, I thought reaching the top, debuting, succeeding, performing on big stages, would make everything feel…perfect. Like all the pieces would suddenly click into place and the quiet ache would disappear.”
You turned toward him, giving him your full attention. “And now?”
His smile was small and a little wistful. “I’m so grateful. I really am. I love performing with the guys. The energy of the concerts, the bond we share…it’s everything I dreamed of. But sometimes, when the lights go down and I’m back in my room, it still gets quiet. Really quiet.”
There was a rare vulnerability in his voice, the kind he never really showed anyone. You reached over and gently held his hand in yours, offering silent comfort.
He glanced at you. “But now, it feels different.”
“Yeah?” you asked softly.
“Yeah.” The answer came easily, warmly. “It does.”
“How?”
Yunho looked away for a moment, almost shy, before meeting your eyes again. “Because now I have someone to talk about my day to. Someone who makes the quiet feel less empty.”
Your expression softened completely. “Yun...”
“I know it sounds simple,” he continued, “but I spent so long chasing the big moments, the applause, the achievements, that I forgot the small ones are what you actually get to keep. The ones that stay with you.”
The city hummed softly around you: distant traffic, faint laughter from a group of friends walking by, the steady rhythm of Seoul living its night life. Yunho reached out and lightly brushed your hair behind your ear.
“I like this,” he said.
“This?”
He gestured between the two of you with a gentle smile. “Yeah. Walking around with no destination. Grabbing drinks from a convenience store. You teasing me because I still can’t navigate for the life of me.”
“You really can’t,” you laughed.
“Okay, rude,” he chuckled, nudging you lightly. “But yes…this. I used to think happiness had to be something huge and overwhelming. Fireworks and perfect endings. But maybe it’s simpler than that. Maybe it’s just having the right person beside you when nothing special is happening at all.”
When Yunho finally walked you home later that night, neither of you wanted the evening to end. You lingered outside your door, the warm glow of the hallway light casting soft shadows across his face. He stood close, hands in his pockets again, reluctant to leave.
“You have practice early tomorrow,” you reminded him gently.
“I know.”
“You need sleep.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to regret staying out this late.”
“I know.” He smiled, but then his expression grew more serious. “But I don’t agree that I should leave yet.”
The teasing faded, and for a moment it was just Yunho, not the dazzling performer the world cheered for, not the reliable member everyone leaned on, but the man who loved quiet walks, convenience store drinks, and the little things in life.
“You make things better,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “You make my life feel less like something I’m constantly running toward, and more like something I’m actually living.”
Your breath caught in your throat. Words felt insufficient, so you simply smiled, reaching up to gently fix the collar of his jacket before pressing your lips softly into his. He smiles against your lips while raising his hands to gently hold your waist.
Sometimes love wasn’t a grand confession under city lights. Sometimes it was late-night walks, a shared drink, someone remembering the crusts on your bread, and choosing you, again and again, in everyday moments.
And with Yunho, you realized happiness wasn’t some distant destination waiting at the end of a long chase.
So I think I’m gonna take a little bit of a break from Stay…I cannot get out of this funk I’m in with it I’ll write the chapter out and then delete it because I hate it so much I like can’t get out what I want to happen next I have it in my head and then I try to write it out and it’s like a steaming pile of dog shit and I just don’t know why I’m having such a hard time with it atm! I’m gonna maybe just focus on little blurbs and imagines for a little while and give myself some distance from Stay so that hopefully the pressure (that I put on myself) goes away and I can actually get the chapter that I have in my head out. Stay will be continued just on a little hiatus!
Me when I get my fav author’s (you) post notifications
Me being your fav author is gonna make me vomit and cry and also wanna give you a smooch that’s so sweet😭 I promise soon you’ll get notifs of me actually writing I’m just in a rut atm 🤪
