⟢ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cussing, drinking (wonwoo refused to touch mc with alcohol involved), talks about online sex work
⟢ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom wonwoo, bratty/sub reader, big dick wonwoo, size kink, use of sex toys, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay, rougher sex, the reader is handcuffed, edging, overstimulation, begging, dirty talk, choking, body worship, wonwoo can be a little mean, crying from pleasure, mc is a little worried Mingyu can hear them, nicknames: baby, good girl, brat, princess (hers) nonu, baby, sir (his)
⟢ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw
⟢ 𝐚𝐧: this one is for Wonwoo’s birthday. Thank you @aeristudios for listening to me ramble about this one. Thank you @svtts for beta reading. divider by @/saradika-graphics.
🎧: if you’re too shy - the 1975 | cherry thrill - movements | worthy- the home team | 34 + 35 - ariana grande | gameboy - katseye
When it comes to you and Wonwoo you both have some similarities, but are also quite different. You both have jobs online. Wonwoo is a successful streamer, and you're known for your spicy paid subscription website. You've been on online fans, and working as a cam girl for a few years now. You've managed to absolutely make bank, and have built quite the online following even away from your site.
You and Wonwoo have quite a few mutual friends. It turns out he's had a crush on you for a while. Once Seungcheol found out, he decided to introduce you two.
The first time you crossed patches was at Seungcheol's birthday party. You're not dumb, you're well aware of who Wonwoo is. There is something about a cute nerdy gamer with glasses, who clearly has the body of a Greek god, that does something to you.
You’ve found yourself being a silent viewer in a few of his streams.
At Seungcheol’s party, you learned Wonwoo was interested in you, but you aren't in a place with your career where you could try and navigate having a boyfriend.
The entire night Wonwoo flirted and eventually you exchanged numbers. You let him know then that you weren't looking for any type of connection with anyone.
It's been six months since you met, and it turns out you couldn't push Wonwoo away. He’s turned into someone you texted often, and even flirt with all the time.
It turns out when you only have sex with yourself and toys, you start to get pent up.
THE GIRL ON THE SCREEN
Wonwoo is hosting a game night at his, and his best friend Mingyu’s apartment. You picked out your outfit with the intention of possibly trying to get laid. You've been debating on crossing the line with Wonwoo for a while. Tonight finally feels like the night.
The boys live in a pretty big three bedroom apartment. It seems their entire friend group plus some of the boys significant others are here.
The first person you see is Seungcheol. He leads you into the kitchen where Wonwoo is talking to Seokmin. The moment Wonwoo's eyes lock on yours you have his full, undivided attention.
What was supposed to be a game night quickly turns into a night of drinking games. The more you drink the drunker you get. The more alcohol that floats through your veins, the more you flirt with Wonwoo.
The whole time he's talking to you, your eyes just focus on his pretty lips, and how he's nervously pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You want Wonwoo so bad, you could scream.
-
The light peaking through the curtain slowly wakes you up. Your eyes flutter open and you're hit with the realization you're not in your room. Lifting the covers you see that you're fully naked.
The clicking sounds of the keyboard catch your attention. Looking over into the corner, you see Wonwoo on his computer. The scrambled memories of last night start flooding back to you.
Wonwoo turns in his chair removing his headphones. He tilts his head looking at you. "Good morning, sunshine."
Slowly you sit up in his bed, holding the covers up. "Did we have sex?"
"No, you were drunk and I refused to even kiss you while you were intoxicated." He says firmly.
"Why am I naked?" He turns his chair around so he's fully facing you.
"Because after you tried to kiss me, you thought if you got fully naked, I would fuck you."
The memories of what happened between you are sparse, but you remember some of it. Awkwardly, you look around the room. Wonwoo's room looks exactly how you thought it would. Seungcheol always jokes and calls him a neat freak, and it looks like nothing is out of place in his room. It even looks like he's folded your clothes and placed them on his dresser.
You look at the other side of where Wonwoo's phone is sitting on the nightstand. "I slept in the living room on the couch."
"Oh." Turns out Wonwoo is a gentleman and respectful.
"I came in here so we could talk once you’d woke up."
Holding the blanket close to your chest, you get a little more comfortable. You know there is no way you can get out of talking after you clearly threw yourself at him last night.
"What did you want to talk about?" You try to play innocent.
He rolls his eyes. "I don't know, maybe the fact you threw yourself at me last night."
"I thought you liked me?" Wonwoo's made it very clear in the past he's interested in you.
He pushes himself up from the chair. Without thinking your eyes travel up and down his body. He's dressed in a pair of God forsaken grey sweatpants and a tight tank top that shows off his glorious shoulders.
"See, here's the thing—I like you, a lot actually." He pauses, stopping at the foot of the bed. You know there is a but coming. There is no way he'll leave it just at that. "But I only mess around with girls who behave."
Your brows knit together, processing his change in tone. You've never heard him sound so stern. "Am I not a good girl?"
"No."
"I literally put myself on a silver platter for you."
He cocks his head to the side. "A good girl wouldn't have pouted and called me a virgin, because I wouldn't fuck her while she was drunk." You most definitely don't remember saying that to him. A hot wave of blush crawls up your neck.
"I'm sorry."
"I thought you were a good girl until last night." He reaches out, grabbing your chin. "I know that you play with yourself online before I met you, I'd seen some of your videos. None of your them ever made me think that you would be a brat." His words are firm. Your eyes go wide, taking in each and every word he says.
"I didn't think you were some hard dom." You retort.
He narrows his eyes, as a smirk tugs at his lips. "I'm not normally a hard dom. I like control in the bedroom, but if you behave I won't have to be hard on you."
He turns on his heels walking to his dresser. You watch carefully as he pulls out a box. He grabs what looks to be a vibrator wand, handcuffs and a bottle of lube.
"Are you going to fuck me?" You let the blanket fall, leaving your chest fully exposed.
He glances over his shoulder. "Do you still want me to fuck you?"
"Please." If Wonwoo only fucks girls he considers to be "good girls" you must be on your best behavior for him.
"Say it." He turns around, holding the handcuffs.
"Say what?"
"Ask me, tell me you want this." He raises his brows.
Without saying anything you push the covers off, leaving your naked body fully on display. "Wonwoo, I want you to fuck me. I'll be so good for you. Just please fuck me." You've never been one to beg, but right now, you'll do anything he asks of you.
He moves toward the bed without saying another word. "We'll use the traffic light system. At any point if something is too much, you need to tell me. I'm not sure what you're used to, but I'm in control."
Silently you nod.
"Use your words."
"I understand, sir." His eyes light up at the use of sir.
"You're a quick learner, princess. I need to know, what are your boundaries."
"I like choking, but don't be super rough with it. You can slap my ass, but not my face." You pause, suddenly feeling embarrassment crawl up your throat.
"Keep going."
"You can be rougher with how you fuck me. No gross stuff please. Oh and don't call me mean names. Like I don't want be fully degraded."
"Are you okay with princess, good girl, and brat?"
"Yeah, those are fine."
"Can I put you in handcuffs and edge you?"
"Yeah."
Holding the handcuffs out towards you, he nods his head. "Give me your hands." He clicks the cold metal against your skin. They're tight, but not tight enough to hurt. "If they hurt just tell me. Communication is key here."
"Yes, sir."
He goes to take off his glasses. "Please leave them on." You can't escape the thought of him wearing his glasses whilst doing the dirtiest things to you.
"Okay. Lay down, and do not touch me."
Quickly you obey him. Laying on the bed you spread your legs, giving him full access to your needy core. He walks over to the dresser, picking up the vibrator and the bottle of lube before returning and sitting them on the bed next to you.
Your eyes stay focused on him as he pulls off his tank top. Taking his time, he neatly folds it and sets it on top of the dresser, next to your clothes.
Placing his knee on the bed, he crawls towards you slowly. He stops once he's sitting on his knees between your spread legs. His large hand rests on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles into your skin, helping to relax you. You aren't sure why you're so nervous. Maybe it’s because this is the first time you're ever letting a man fully take control.
Picking up the vibrator, he clicks it on. "Color?"
"Green."
He presses the vibrator directly against your clit, earning a moan instantly. He doesn't give you a moment to breathe before he clicks up the speed. Your body tenses immediately.
Your lips part, sinful moans and whimpers filling the room. He unexpectedly drags two fingers through your folds. Closing your eyes, you tilt your head back.
Without thinking your push your hips up towards the vibrator.
"Don't." His words catch you off guard. Your eyes snap open and you see him glaring at you. "Don't try and get yourself off. You'll take what I give you."
"Yes, sir."
Two fingers are suddenly pushed into you, earning a wanton moan. He clicks the vibration speed up another level, as he drags his fingers in a come hither motion, touching that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.
"Let me know when you're close."
"Okay." You whine.
The feeling of his fingers and the vibration is too much, your orgasm is speeding towards you at one hundred miles per hour.
"I'm gonna cum." You cry.
The precipice of your orgasm is rapidly approaching, suddenly everything stops. He rips the vibrator and, fingers away from your needy core. Your orgasm is right there, and he stopped everything.
Your eyes fly open, and you look at him confused. You know he said he would edge you, but you thought he would change his mind.
"Wonwoo—" you cry.
"You're such a good girl, you didn't cum without my permission." He taunts you. Your eyes are wide, you try your hardest to process the situation. "Can you do that again?" You aren't sure if you can, but you'll try anything for him.
He puts the vibrator against your needy clit again. He goes back to his same task of pumping his fingers in and out of you, except this time he's added another finger— this orgasm barreling towards you quicker then the last.
Before you can even tell him you're close he stops everything. Every nerve in your body feels like a live wire. Tears brim your eyes. Another orgasm being ripped away from you is devastating.
“Fuck—“ you cry.
“Such a filthy mouth.” He says teasing you.
He pushes the vibrator back onto your clit. He has the speed all the way up. This orgasm is going to hit you like a freight train. He pumps three fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace.
All the muscles in your body are tense. It’s taking everything in you, to not lift your hips, attempting to chase your release.
"Wonwoo, please let me cum. I'll be so fucking good for you if you let me cum." Tears spring from your eyes. You pull your hands up towards you. If you keep your hands anywhere near him, you know you'll try to grab him.
He rips the vibrator away from your clit and tosses it on the bed. This time he doesn't remove his fingers. He keeps pumping them.
"You can cum princess." He dives in face first into your core. His lips lock around your clit. He's practically making out with your pussy, whilst he pushes you over the edge.
The white hot wave of your orgasm is excruciating. Your walls pulse around his as your head is thrown back moaning his name. He doesn't let up on your clit. He keeps sucking until it’s overstimulated and sore.
"Wonwoo." You cry, squirming underneath him.
He pulls back, sitting back on his knees. Sliding his fingers into his mouth, he licks them clean of your release.
"Pretty baby, can barely handle being edged." He teases.
No words form, silently you blink at him, processing everything that's happening. He turns around stripping away the rest of his clothes.
When he turns around you're greeted to the sight of his massive cock. This is by far the biggest cock you've ever seen with your own eyes.
"Should I grab a condom?"
"I'm clean. I haven't slept with a man in over a year." It's probably dumb to fuck without a condom the first time, but all the logical thoughts left your brain long ago.
"You sure?" He raises his brow.
"Yes, I want you to cum inside me."
He barks out a laugh. Walking closer to the bed, he reaches out and grabs the chain that holds the hand cuffs together. "I'm going to lock your hands above your head. If it's too much, you have to tell me."
"Yes, sir."
He hoist your hands above your head. He hooks the chains into a hook you didn't even realize was built into the headboard.
"You've done this before?" You ask.
"Many times." He smiles.
"Wonwoo?"
"Yes, princess?" He's standing over you.
"You haven't even kissed me." There is something quite humorous about the fact that he's already made you cum and you haven't even kissed.
"Do you want me to kiss you?"
"Please."
Without another word he leans in, pressing his lips to yours for a searing kiss. His hands holds your face as your lips dance together. He kisses you like you’re air in his oxygen-deprived lungs. Pulling back, his teeth tug on your bottom lip.
"Happy?"
"Yes."
He picks up the bottle of lube, clicking it open he coats his entire length. You're going to need all the help you can get, taking someone his size.
He pours some of the cold lube on your core, earning a gasp from you. "Oh—"
"I'm big, so this might hurt."
"I can take you." Even if it hurts you don't care. You'll make him fit.
"Such an eager girl.” He tosses the lube on the bed next to you. "Keep your legs spread wide."
He pushes in slowly, giving you time to adjust. He goes in inch by inch. The moment you're filled to the brim, it feels like he's splitting you open.
Out of instinct, your hands tug against the handcuffs. "Are you okay?" His voice is soft and gentle.
"Yeah. Just—" your brain is having a hard forming words. He's managed to leave you cock drunk. "You're so big."
A smile tugs at his lips. "Am I too big for you?" He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"No—" you cry.
"Color."
"Green, green." You stutter out. If he stops now, you'll break down crying.
"Did you want me to move, or do you still need time to adjust?" His hand that rests on your thighstarts rubbing soothing circles again.
"Please move, I'll be so good for you if you move." You can't help but beg.
He gives you a smile before he pulls his hips back and slams back into you roughly, knocking you back. He keeps a quick and brutal pace. With each thrust your breasts bounce.
Grabbing your leg, he hooks it over his arms. He keeps snapping his hips into you, over and over.
There is a weird contrast as he leans down kissing the top of your knee gently.
He's so big, he's touching parts inside of you that you didn't know could be reached. Your hands tighten into a fist as you try not to cum too early.
Out of nowhere he drops your leg. Your eyes fly open, looking at him confused.
"Color?"
"Green."
He stops moving for a moment. He's still sitting on his knee, snug inside you, but he moves so he's hovering over you. He snaps his hips back into you.
"Fuck—" you can't help but moan.
He takes your breast in his large hand. He gropes the flesh, earning wanton moans from you. This is the best sex you've ever had in your life.
"Wonwoo—" you cry.
"Does Princess want to cum?" He taunts you.
"Please, I'm so close."
"You can cum." He snaps his hips harder.
The cry that leaves your lips is loud. You're hit with the realization that Mingyu might be home. You pray that he left long before you and Wonwoo started fucking.
This orgasm hits harder then anything you've ever experienced before. You see spots as your walls flutter against his cock like a heartbeat.
Tilting your head back, you leave the delicate skin of your neck fully exposed. Without saying a word, his large hand wraps around your throat. He applies just enough pressure to send you futher over the edge.
"Fuck— fuck." You cry out.
He doesn't stop moving. He keeps thrusting into you, over and over as you ride out your high.
"Where do you want me to cum?" He ask, leaning in even closer to you.
"Inside." You cry.
He releases your neck and drops down to his elbows, so he is plastered against you. He slows down a little, rolling his hips into you as he chases his release.
His lips crash into yours for another heated kiss. Your tongues slide together, muffling your moans.
His thrusts get more sloppy as he gets closer to finding his release. "I'm going to fill you up." He moans against your lips.
True to his word, he fills you like you've never been filled before. He keeps thrusting into you as he paints your walls with his milky release. He came so much, it's starting to leak out around his cock.
It takes a few moments for him to slowly stop moving. He pulls away from you and reaches up for your hands. He releases the chain from the hook and slowly brings your hands towards him. He unlocks the handcuffs and gently rubs your wrist, focusing on the spot where the metal started to bite your skin. He places gentle kisses on both wrists. This is the complete opposite of the man who just fucked you until you cried.
"How are you feeling?" He's still inside you, he hasn't tried to move.
"Like my legs probably don't work." You let out a little laugh. “Please tell me Mingyu isn’t home.”
“He left hours ago.”
He leans in and presses his lips to yours for another kiss. "You're way nicer now." You say with your lips against his.
"It's because you were a good girl."
"I'll always be your good girl, if you'll fuck me like that." Reaching up, you tangle your fingers in his fluffy hair. It feels nice to actually touch him.
"So was this a one time thing?" He asks as he pulls back from you.
"No."
Slowly he pulls out of you. He sits back on his knees, watching as his release starts slowly sliding out of you. He takes two fingers and scoops it up, pushing it back inside.
"Don't waste it." He says, giving you a wicked smile.
"I need a shower." You sigh.
"Let's shower together, and then I'll take you out for breakfast."He holds his hand out towards you.
"Like a date?" You push yourself up, immediately realizing how sore you are.
"Yeah, if you want me to fuck you again we have to go a date."
You can't help but smile. For someone who just dom’ed the hell out of you, he's acting pretty cute right now.
"I would like to go out with you."
Things are definitely going to change after this, but you're okay with that. Clearly what you and Wonwoo have is special.
Synopsis: After a brutal heartbreak, Y/n throws herself into the depths of her disciplined military life only to realize she might've accidentally made the biggest mistake of her life.
The café on the corner of Wolmi Street had a name Y/n could never remember, only that the awning was the color of weak tea and the third table from the window wobbled if you leaned your elbow on the wrong side of it. She and Yeosang had sat at that table more times than she could count. First dates that weren't dates yet. Study sessions that turned into something else. The afternoon he'd gotten down on one knee in the narrow space between the counter and the window, so nervous he knocked over a sugar dispenser, and she'd laughed so hard she cried before she'd even said yes.
Today the table wobbled the same way it always had.
Everything else was different.
Yeosang sat across from her in a baby-blue shirt she'd ironed herself three days ago, the collar peeking out from beneath a cardigan she'd bought him for his birthday, cream-colored, embroidered at the cuffs, the kind of thing he'd complained was "too soft for a grown man" and then worn every week since. His hair was tied back in the neat bun he wore when he wanted to look put-together, when he wanted to look like a man who had his life in order. His glasses caught the late afternoon light slanting through the window, gold rims flashing gold, and for a moment Y/n could see nothing of his eyes at all, just two coins of sun where his face should be.
His hands were on the table. Fidgeting. Turning the ring on his finger around and around like a man trying to loosen a bolt that wouldn't give.
"I don't think this is going to work out, Y/n."
He said it to the table. Not to her. His voice had the particular flatness of a sentence that had been rehearsed so many times in the shower, in the car, in the mirror, that saying it out loud finally felt like a betrayal of how real it was.
Y/n didn't move.
She had imagined, somewhere in the eleven minutes it took her to walk from the barracks gate to this café, because some small, cowardly animal part of her brain had known, the second he'd texted can we talk, the usual place two hours before their wedding rehearsal, exactly what kind of talk this was going to be, she had imagined crying. Imagined throwing the untouched menu at his head. Imagined, if she was honest with the ugliest part of herself, slapping him hard enough that the sound would carry to the counter and the barista would look up.
Instead she felt something colder. Something that had learned, over eight years of active service, how to receive bad news without letting the muscles in her face report it to the enemy.
"I can't marry you," Yeosang said. His voice cracked on the last word, like the word itself was a door hinge that hadn't been oiled in years. You. It broke clean in half, and something in Y/n's chest broke a half second behind it, quiet and internal, the kind of fracture you don't feel until you try to put weight on it.
He looked up. Just for a second. Their eyes met — his wet and terrified, hers dry and doing the thing she'd trained her whole adult life to do, which was to give absolutely nothing away, and then he dropped his gaze back to the table like her face had scalded him.
"You're cancelling our wedding a day before it happens?"
Her voice came out level. Almost gentle. Which terrified him more than anything she could have screamed. She watched it land, watched the flinch travel down through his shoulders, and some small, mean part of her that she wasn't proud of took a little satisfaction in that. Good, it whispered. Be afraid. You should be.
"I'm sorry, I— " He didn't finish. He just exhaled, long and shaking, a man setting down a weight he'd been carrying so long his arms had gone numb to it.
Y/n's mind was already elsewhere, already doing the thing it did under pressure, which was itemize. Catalogue. Solve. It was easier to think about logistics than to think about the tenth anniversary they'd never celebrate, the apartment lease they'd signed together eight months ago, the dog they'd talked about getting once the wedding was behind them.
"What about the RSVPs?" she asked. "The catering. The venue. Who's going to handle all of that?" A pause, and then, because the number had been sitting in the back of her throat for weeks like a stone she couldn't swallow: "What about the money? Have you even thought about that? About any of it?"
There was an edge in her voice now, small but unmistakable, the particular irritation of a person watching someone else's cowardice generate hours of unpaid labor for her to clean up.
Yeosang nodded, too fast, too eager, a man grateful to be handed a task instead of a feeling. "I'll handle everything. I'll call everyone, I'll— I'll deal with the venue, the deposit, all of it. I'll send the money back to your account, every last won of it, I promise you that." His hands were shaking now, bad enough that she could see it from across the table. "I just— please. I can't go through with this. I can't."
He reached up and, with the particular slowness of a man performing his own small execution, took the ring off his finger.
It made a sound when it hit the table. A small, bright, terrible sound, metal on formica, and then it rolled— an inch, maybe two, before settling on its side, catching the same low gold light his glasses had caught minutes before.
Y/n looked at it for a long moment.
Then, because there was nothing left to do that would change the shape of what was happening, she took her own ring off too. It didn't shake in her hand. She set it down without ceremony, without flourish, and it rolled, she'd swear later that it rolled toward his on purpose, though she knew rings didn't have intentions, only formica did, and came to rest half-atop his band, the two circles overlapping like a Venn diagram of a life that no longer had an intersection.
"Now what?" she asked.
It wasn't really a question. It was the sound a person makes when the floor has been pulled out from under them and they're still, out of pure animal habit, waiting to land.
"Now we go our separate ways," Yeosang said.
He didn't look at her when he said it. He got up instead, chair legs scraping against tile, a sound too loud for the silence they'd built around this table, and he reached out and picked up her ring, the one that had rolled onto his, and tucked it into the breast pocket of his cardigan like it was something fragile that might shatter if he wasn't careful with it. She wondered, distantly, if he meant to sell it back, or return it to the jeweler, or simply couldn't stand the thought of it sitting alone on a café table after he left. She didn't ask. She didn't have it in her to ask.
He turned to go. Got two steps toward the door, she watched his shoulders, how they'd curled inward like a man bracing for rain, and something in her, some last stubborn ember of a person who had loved him for a decade and needed, needed, one true thing before this was over, made her speak.
"Is there someone else?"
He stopped. Didn't turn around. "No," he said, almost too fast, the word tumbling out before she'd even finished the sentence. "There's no one else."
She nodded. Not for him. For herself. A small, private motion, chin dipping once, filing the answer away in the same part of her mind where she kept everything else she couldn't afford to look at directly right now.
He left.
The bell over the door rang once, cheerful and completely wrong for the moment, and then the café swallowed the sound and went on being a café, someone's espresso machine hissing, the low murmur of an old couple two tables over, a song on the radio Y/n would never be able to name again without her stomach turning.
She sat there for a long moment. Alone at a wobbling table with a ring and a folded napkin and a wedding that no longer existed.
And then, because there was no one left to perform composure for, Y/n let herself cry. Quietly. Three, four tears, no more, tracking down a face that had not moved in twenty minutes, and she let them fall onto the back of her hand and did not wipe them away until they'd finished on their own.
She picked up the ring. His ring, the one he'd left behind. She turned it over once between her fingers, the metal still warm from where his hand had been holding it a second ago, a warmth that felt suddenly obscene, and dropped it into the outer pocket of her purse, the one with the broken zipper she'd meant to fix for months and never had.
Then she stood, smoothed the front of her blouse with both hands like she was smoothing something back into place inside her own ribs, and walked out of the café into an afternoon that had, impossibly, kept right on being sunny.
Ten years. Nine years and eleven months, if you wanted to be precise about it, and Y/n had always wanted to be precise about it. Ended in less time than it took to finish a cup of coffee that neither of them had touched.
She didn't go home.
Home, right now, was a one-bedroom apartment with his shaving kit still in the bathroom cabinet and a shared calendar on the refrigerator with WEDDING — TOMORROW written in her own handwriting, and Y/n understood with the clarity of a woman who had spent her entire adult life making hard tactical calls that she could not walk through that door tonight. Not tonight, and possibly not for a long time.
There was a version of this evening where she went home, closed the blinds, and did not get out of bed for three days. She could feel that version of herself somewhere very close, a shadow standing just behind her right shoulder, patient, waiting for an opening.
She did not let it in.
Instead she caught the transit line east, toward Camp Iseul, sitting very straight in a plastic seat with her purse in her lap and her hands folded over it, and stared at her own reflection ghosted in the window glass, doubled over the blur of passing buildings. A woman in a pale blue sundress with unremarkable jewelry, a single stud in each ear, nothing on her ring finger now, nothing at all, riding a train toward a military base on what was supposed to have been the last free afternoon of her old life.
She had kept her locker at the barracks. Six months of engagement leave, and she'd kept it anyway, told herself it was practical, sometimes you need a change of uniform, sometimes there are papers you have to sign in person, and had never once let herself examine why some part of her hadn't fully packed up and left. Some part of her had always known the wedding might not happen. Some part of her, she thought now, watching the base's outer fence line slide into view through the train window, had been keeping the door open the whole time.
She got off at Camp Iseul at 4:52 in the morning.
By 5:15 she had changed out of the sundress in the locker room, folded it with more care than it deserved, tucked it into her bag like evidence she wasn't ready to look at yet, and stood in front of the mirror in her service uniform, hair scraped back into the regulation knot, insignia squared away on her collar. Captain. Two years since her last promotion. Eight since she'd first walked through this gate as a wide-eyed second lieutenant who didn't yet know what the job would cost her, or what it would give her in return.
She looked, in the mirror, like nothing at all had happened two hours ago.
It was, she thought, the single most useful skill the Army had ever taught her.
Her presence in the barracks hall stopped conversation the way a gunshot stops birds.
She felt it immediately, the ripple of attention, heads turning, voices dropping to murmurs and then to nothing, and understood exactly what it looked like from the outside. Captain Y/n, who had put in for wedding leave two weeks ago, who half the base had been quietly gossiping about all month because someone had seen the caterer's van at her apartment building, standing in the barracks hall in full uniform on what was supposed to be her wedding day.
It should have been unbearable, all those eyes. It only made her angry, a clean, useful anger that steadied her spine and kept her chin level. She had learned a long time ago that the two feelings, humiliation and fury, could occupy the same body, and that fury was, by a wide margin, the more survivable of the two.
The duty NCO at the front desk looked up from his logbook and did a visible double take.
Staff Sergeant Yoojung-sik had manned that desk for going on three years, and in that time he had developed a reputation as a man who did not startle easily. He startled now. His eyes went from her face to her uniform to her face again, doing the same arithmetic everyone else in the hall was doing, and coming up with a sum that clearly didn't add up.
Y/n came to a stop in front of his desk and executed her reporting formalities with the same clean precision she'd give any other duty officer on any other day, heels together, salute crisp, chin level. "Staff Sergeant. Captain Y/n, requesting to speak with the general."
Yoojung-sik returned the salute on reflex before his brain caught up with what she'd said. "Captain." A beat. "Ma'am, I— apologies, I wasn't expecting to see you on base today."
"I understand." She kept her voice even. Gave him nothing to work with. "I'd like to speak with General Han. Is he available?"
To his credit, Yoojung-sik didn't push. Whatever questions were stacking up behind his eyes, he set them aside with the discipline of a man who'd learned not to ask officers about their personal business unless invited to. "I'll check, ma'am. One moment."
He rose from the desk and disappeared down the corridor toward the general's office, and Y/n was left standing alone in the barracks hall with nothing to do but absorb the silence around her. Conversations that had stopped when she walked in did not fully resume. She heard fragments, a whispered isn't that, a hissed shh- and kept her eyes fixed on a point on the wall just past the bulletin board, jaw tight, refusing to give the room the satisfaction of a reaction.
It felt like a very long three minutes.
When Yoojung-sik returned, his expression had smoothed back into something more professional, though his eyes still carried the shape of a question he wasn't going to ask. "The general will see you now, ma'am. This way."
She saluted him again on her way past, he returned it, sharper this time, like a small apology for having stared, and followed him down the corridor to the heavy wooden door at the end, the one with GENERAL J. HAN stenciled in block letters at eye level.
Yoojung-sik knocked once, opened the door, and stepped aside. "Captain Y/n, sir."
"Send her in."
General Jooheon Han was sixty-three years old and had the kind of face that had weathered thirty-eight years of service without losing any of its warmth — deep lines around the eyes that came as much from decades of squinting into artillery smoke as from the handful of times Y/n had actually seen him smile. He was seated behind a wide oak desk stacked with folders, reading glasses pushed up into thinning grey hair, and when Y/n stepped through the door and came to attention, his expression did the same double take Yoojung-sik's had, only faster, and with none of the confusion. Just concern, arriving all at once, like a man who already suspected the answer to a question he hadn't asked yet.
"Captain." He rose halfway from his chair, an old habit of courtesy he'd never fully shed despite four decades of rank. "At ease. Sit down."
Y/n performed the formality anyway, full attention, salute, the whole ritua, because it was the only stable ground she had left to stand on today, and only after he'd returned it did she allow herself to lower into the chair across from his desk.
"Captain," Han said again, slower this time, studying her face the way a man studies a map he's not sure he's reading right. "Correct me if I've lost track of my calendar, but isn't today—"
"It was supposed to be my wedding day, sir." She said it plainly. No tremor in it. "It won't be happening."
Something shifted behind the general's eyes. He'd known her since she was twenty-two years old and freshly commissioned, mouthy and too proud for her own good, and he'd watched her grow into an officer he was, in the quiet way career soldiers allowed themselves such things, genuinely proud of. He did not ask her to elaborate. He didn't need to. Whatever was sitting behind her carefully composed face told him everything the words wouldn't.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, and meant it, and let the sentence sit there for a moment without rushing to fill the silence after it, which was its own kind of respect. "That's a hard thing to carry into an office like this one."
"Thank you, sir." A short pause. "I'd like to request something."
Han leaned back slightly in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach, an old gesture she recognized from every difficult conversation she'd ever had with him. "Go on."
"I'd like to move forward with the mission I was offered before my engagement leave. Project INDEX RED. Unit 8." She kept her eyes on his, steady, unblinking. "If the offer still stands, sir."
The general was quiet for a long moment. Long enough that Y/n could hear the wall clock behind him ticking, long enough that she wondered if he was going to make her say it twice.
"You turned that assignment down four months ago," he said finally. "Told me yourself you wanted a normal life. Wanted to come home to someone at the end of the day instead of a debrief room." He wasn't being cruel. His voice was gentle, almost apologetic, the voice of a man who hated having to ask the next question but was going to ask it anyway because it was his job to. "I have to ask you this straight, Captain, so hear me the right way when I do— is this you making a clear-headed decision? Or is this grief talking, and you're trying to outrun it by throwing yourself into the most dangerous assignment on my desk?"
It was, Y/n thought, exactly the question she would have expected him to ask. It was also, she suspected, the only question in the room that actually mattered.
She considered lying. Considered giving him the answer that would make this easier for both of them. She didn't.
"Probably some of both, sir, if I'm honest," she said. "I won't pretend the timing is a coincidence. But I've thought about this assignment every day since I turned it down. I didn't stop wanting it, sir. I just wanted something else more, for a while." A breath. "That's not true anymore. And I'd rather be doing something that matters than sitting in an apartment by myself figuring out what to do with a wedding dress nobody's going to wear."
Han studied her for a long moment, the kind of look that had, over the course of his career, talked soldiers out of bad decisions and, just as often, recognized the difference between a bad decision and a hard one. Whatever he found in her face seemed to satisfy something in him, because the tension in his shoulders eased, fractionally, and he nodded once.
"All right." He said it simply, without ceremony, the way he said most things that mattered. "I believe you. I've believed in you since you were a green second lieutenant who argued with me about a supply requisition on your second week in this command, and I don't see a reason to stop now." A faint, tired smile. "But understand what you're asking for, Captain. Unit 8 isn't a posting you can walk back from once you're in. INDEX RED even less so. I need you certain, not just resolved. Those aren't the same thing."
"I understand the difference, sir. I'm certain."
He held her gaze a moment longer, then reached for the phone on his desk, dialed an internal extension, and spoke briefly and quietly to whoever answered, a name, a file number, an instruction to bring it to his office directly. He hung up without ceremony.
"Someone will bring the dossier in a few minutes," he said. "You should know before you open it that once you read what's in that folder, there's no version of tonight where you walk out of this building and pretend you didn't. That's not a threat, Captain, it's just how this works. So if there's a part of you that wants one more night to think it over, say so now, and I'll hold the file until tomorrow."
"No, sir." Steady. Immediate. "I'm ready."
Han nodded slowly, the nod of a man who had expected that answer and had hoped for it anyway. "Then we'll get you read in tonight."
A knock came at the door a few minutes later, a young corporal Y/n didn't recognize, carrying a slim black folder sealed with a strip of red tape across the clasp, the kind of seal that meant the contents didn't leave this office without a signature and a witness. He set it on the general's desk, saluted, and left without a word, the whole exchange taking less than fifteen seconds.
Han slid the folder across the desk to her but kept two fingers resting on top of it, not yet releasing it. "Read it tonight. Come back to me tomorrow morning with your questions, and there will be questions, Captain, I promise you that. This isn't the kind of assignment where you get all the answers on the first pass." He finally lifted his hand away. "Dismissed."
Y/n rose, gathered the folder against her side, and came to attention, delivering one last, clean salute. "Thank you, sir."
She had turned and was two steps from the door, hand already reaching for the handle, the weight of the folder pressed cool against her ribs, the weight of everything else pressed considerably heavier somewhere she wasn't ready to examine yet, when the general's voice stopped her.
"Captain."
She turned back.
Jooheon Han was still seated behind his desk, glasses pushed up into his hair, looking at her with an expression that had nothing to do with rank or protocol at all. Just an old man who had watched her grow up in uniform and didn't like what today had cost her, even if he understood why she was standing in his office instead of at an altar.
"It's gonna be fine," he said. Quiet. "You're gonna be fine, kiddo."
Y/n held his gaze for a moment. Something in her chest, some small and stubborn and exhausted thing, loosened just slightly at the words, not fixed, nothing so simple as fixed, but loosened, the way a held breath finally lets go.
"Yes, sir," she said.
And then she stepped out of the office, into the corridor, into whatever came next.
⟢ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cussing, drinking (wonwoo refused to touch mc with alcohol involved), talks about online sex work
⟢ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom wonwoo, bratty/sub reader, big dick wonwoo, size kink, rougher sex, use of sex toys, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay, the reader is handcuffed, edging, overstimulation, begging, dirty talk, choking, body worship, wonwoo can be a little mean, crying from pleasure, nicknames: baby, good girl, brat, princess (hers) nonu, baby, sir (his)
⟢ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ minors do not interact.
HE'S A GAMEBOY
When it comes to Wonwoo you both have some similarities, but are also quite different. You both have jobs online. Wonwoo is a successful streamer, and you're known for your spicy paid subscription website. You've been on online fans, and working as a cam girl for a few years now. You've managed to absolutely make bank, and have built quite the online following even away from your site.
You and Wonwoo have quite a few mutual friends. It turns out he's had a crush on your for a while, and Seungcheol introduced you to.
The first time you crossed patches was at Seungcheol's birthday party. You're not dumb, you're well aware who Wonwoo is. There is something about a cute nerdy gamer with glasses, that clearly has a body of a Greek god, that does something to you.
You learned that night Wonwoo was interested in you, but you aren't in a place with your career where you think you could try and navigate having a boyfriend.
The entire night Wonwoo flirted and eventually you exchanged numbers. You let him know then, that you weren't looking for any type of connection with anyone.
It's been six months sense you met, and it turns out you couldn't push Wonwoo away. He turned into someone you texted often, and you even flirt all the time.
It turns out when you only have sex with yourself and toys, you start to get pent up.
Today, K-Vanity Magazine would like to reserve this section to highlight one of our members. Before we continue any further, we’d like to wish the ever so talented and amazing Adri @gam3bo1 a very Happy Birthday!! May your day be filled with joy and positivity.
🍒Summary: New York, mafia controls through strategy, silence, and violence. A fragile peace now begins to break when secrets surface in clubs. Choi Seungcheol is looking for answers, for names, for revenge just like you are. While trying to find the man who’s behind your loss, you’re caught between an imminent gang war and Seungcheol, a man determined to protect you, to fight for you and now to fight next to you.
WARNINGS! there is a big warning that I want you to read before getting into the story. This story takes place in the 1920’s which means society was fucked up in many ways. So please be aware of it. Also, this story features members of Ateez so, yeah.
🍒WARNING: Calling names, some homophobic dialogues and using the term faggot. objectifying a woman, manipulation as a weapon, assaulting themes, violence, blood, guns and shooting scenes, gaslighting? blackmailing, slight torture towards characters, minor deaths, SMUT WARNING: sex scenes attempt, p in v sex, fingering, no protection (wrap it up please!) Creampies, body worship? Cheol can lift reader (dude is buff of course he can) Little cockwarming, oral sex(for her) nicknames baby, sweetheart, good girl, darling, oh and reader makes comments about Seungcheol’s peach. I don’t know what else to put here, a very horny couple because of adrenaline, sort of. Seungcheol is a tease too so fuck that.
MDNI: I can not control who read this, but I can control who I interact with. This story has mature content, explicit language. I will not interact/respond ageless blogs and underage. Sorry not sorry.
✨Puttin' on the Ritz✨ a collab brought to you by @studiosvt Once again, thank you for letting me be part of it. Go check out the stories featured in this collab if you havent! Support everyone please!
🍒 A/N: this part was long overdue. I had promised to update this part and then life happens, writers block on this story happens and I totally lost control of myself with collabs here and there. I need to stop lol. i will thank @straylightdream for the wonderful banner. I will still thank @aeristudios @jakedustry @shinysobi and @belovedgyu for the help with the start of this story. Anywayssss here it is. Pt2 Final!
A/n2: I will warn, this part has NOT been beta read sooooo there will be inconsistencies, weird and unreal scenarios and maybe too much bad grammar since English is not my first language. But it is what it is, a fanfiction and i am a weird writer. So, I am not 100% confident with what I wrote, mostly shy because of the smut scenes. They are not that good but unlocked my dirty mind so I’ll try to bring better smut in the future.
Thank you for reading, once again, please like, reblog and comment/ask It means the world too me, makes me giggle and helps with inspiration lol.
Make This Work
The silk of Seungcheol’s pajamas felt too soft against your skin. The bed definitely lacked the rough, cheap cotton sheets you bought on sale for your mattress, one that you got second hand and desperately spent a week washing three times just to take out the smell of their previous owner, oh you missed that sketchy apartment in some twisted way.
Somehow that was the first thing that irritated you when you opened your eyes. You were sleeping in a bed made of cotton with expensive sheets and clothes that are not yours, instead of feeling comfortable you just wanted your things.
The sunlight was pouring through the massive, windows of the guest suite making you wince a little, oh that sketchy apartment had two windows that barely let in the sunlight, so you barely had to deal with it, now the sun was your alarm.
You can appreciate the silence though. There were no sirens, your original alarm, the fucking rhythmic thumping of your neighbor’s morning endeavors were nowhere to be heard and you were thankful for that. The way he was rubbing in your face his very active sex life was annoying, since yours was nonexistent.
The noises occasionally made you horny, of course they did, even if you didn’t had a sexual parter, the feeling is there and no one can deny that. You simply didn’t had anyone to help you with that sexual frustration. Just your hand and the memory of a certain someone that has been your own personal hell.
You sat up, running a hand through your tangled hair, your fingers catching on the memory of his touch from two nights ago reminding you how he is torturing you.
Nothing had happened.
Not even when the space between you two had been now too close and your heart was pounding against your ribs and your body was screaming for you to surrender to the warmth of him, to this need that you have had all this time. Nothing happened.
Seungcheol had stopped. He had pressed a slow, agonizingly gentle kiss to your forehead, he was fighting his own desire and you could see it through his hands slightly shaking and his ears red as blood, breathing uneven and his eyes as dark and dilated as yours.
“I want to do this right, sweetheart,” he had whispered, his voice thick with such a restraint that took everything in him not tobreak. You did not help cause even in this situation, you looked like a goddess. “No masks, no blood on your hands, I’m going to earn you back properly this time.”
It was a noble, classic gesture—the act of a man who wanted to court you properly, the way he used to before the world went to hell.— It would’ve been such a romantic gesture, one surely to swoop you off your feet, but as you swung your legs out of the massive bed, the lighting, the smell, your bare feet sinking into a plush perfectly clean rug, a cold wave of cruel reality washed over you.
This sweet romantic illusion was fading slowly and being replaced by the heavy, stubborn weight of your own annoyance towards him. Some might call it resentment.
It was infurating because he wanted to play the gentleman now. The knight in shining armor, he’d looked delicious, but that’s not the point.
This man wanted to build a gold bridge over an almost two-year dramatic silence, and he foolishly was expecting you to just walk across it with a wide smile and jumb into his arms.
But the reality is that he still left. He let you bury your parents alone, let you become a masked woman in your own life, all under the arrogant stupid assumption that his absence was to keep you safe. Fucking hell, you were not going to fall back into his arms that easily.
You couldn’t and you wont. The woman you are now, the one that often has to clean fresh blood from your arms and find a way to take off the stain on your clothes, that woman so fiercely had protected herself from mafia wannabes trying to take her, that damn woman will not let herself be soft again for him just because he looked at her with puppy-dog eyes.
Or look at that woman with nothing but lust, with this need to touch you, have you and claim you, with that conviction that your body needs him and his own wants you badly. Either way that woman—you, won’t soften for him, you won’t give in that easily. He need to learn a lesson that surely no one taught him.
By the second day, the luxury of the Choi mansion had officially turned into a fancy cage.
Your lives were tied now and there was no way of preventing that given your situation, and frankly what they needed from Miss Cherry. You needed the resources of Sector 17 to take ATZ by force, and Seungcheol needed your detailed maps of their supply lines to do everything without further complications.
So, it had been more than forty-eight hours where you had practically lived in his dark, tobacco scented and expensive wooden furniture office. You already had your specific spot at the massive table.
You had proven your worth beautifully, Wonwoo had been forced to re-evaluate his entire ledger after you pointed out how ATZ was using different methods in their distribution that he did not see.
Jihoon had stopped glaring at you entirely once you laid out the exact guard rotations for the warehouses near the Han river—details you had casually and effortlessly extracted from a drunk retired officer that worked for them, let’s not mention the way you had to pray, meditate, and do every other ritual to control your need to put a bullet on that man’s head. He was an officer, and worked willingly for the mafia, it was sickening. For men like him, your father didn’t get the justice he deserved.
That day for that specific companion, you had given him a very strong laxative disguised as a glass of whisky. Damn, even Minghao had given you a silent, respectful nod when you corrected his tactical approach at one sketchy alley near the river.
But every time the meetings ended, the reality of your confinement disguised as new safe home slapped you in the face annoyingly. And it has just been a day.
“I need my things, Seungcheol,” you said, leaning against his desk as the clock ticked past noon on the third day. The boys had left the room, leaving just the two of you in this heavy silence. A restain from him due to you being there looking too good, and yours because you were bored out of your mind and you wanted him. “I hate not being in my own clothes. I’m not spending another night wearing your shirts and pacing around this office, honey you need to open these windows.”
Seungcheol didn’t look up from his paperwork immediately. His tailored jacket hanging perfectly off his broad shoulders, he fixed his tie before he finally set the pen down and met your gaze. Rubbing his chin made yhe heavy ring on his finger caught your eye.
“No,” he said flatly.
“Excuse me?” You arched an eyebrow, your voice dangerously calm trying to process what he’s saying no to.
“You are not going back to that apartment, y/n. And you are certainly not going back to the streets alone,” he said, his tone steady, holding the authority of a man used to give orders left and right. “ATZ is practically on a hunting spree around Manhattan looking for the doll face who put two bullets into Yeosang’s right hand. If you walk out of this place you’re a walking target sweetheart. Everything you need can be bought and brought here.” He thought it was over letting out an exhausting breath. As if this conversation was too tiring, that made your own blood heat up dangerously.
“I do not want anything bought. What I want Choi is my belongings, my place. I feel in a goddamn cage Choi Seungcheol!” you snapped, stepping closer, your fingers digging into the edge of his desk. “I don’t think you understand that I am a partner in this operation, I am not your houseguest, not a damsel in distress, already told you I’ve been around this fucked up world, around ATZ for a year without a bodyguard or a huge mansion to hide in. Certainly I did not had a knight in shining armor keeping me safe, that man left without a word, you left, so do not start pretending you can control me now.”
Seungcheol sighed, a flash of frustration and exhaustion breaking through his rigid “Boss” mask. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes softening as he looked at you, taking in the defiant stare, it was hot if he dared to think further about it. So hot to be challenged.
But right now he could see it, and he did not like to be the cause of your frustration, he does not want you to feel like that with him, he wants to make you feel comfortable, safe and yes, protected. Is that wrong?
“I’m not trying to control you, sweetheart” he said softly, his voice dropping to that intimate tone that seemed to kick down all your defenses and will power. “But right now, things got more complicated, and you know it. You’re in this world, yes but I— look just let me keep you safe here while we plan the next move. Please.” It was like a plea. Yeah it definitely was.
It was annoying, him pleading for something that he originally thought knew best, now he is asking?
“Safe,” you repeated, letting out a short, bitter chuckle as you turned on your heel and walked toward the tall closed curtains, the window had a beautiful garden view. “That's your favorite word, it is your specialty isn’t it? You keep me ‘safe’ by keeping me away. Right now Choi, you’re far from saving me. You’re leaving me out of this shit show MY shit show. Choi, the people who actually pulled the trigger on my father walk around free and you expect me to stay here? I didn’t agree to come here, to work with Sector 17 to end up sitting on a velvet sofa and wait for an update in my own plan! I joined this, I am helping because I want to watch them burn. I am the one burning them.”
You stared at him a few seconds longer before turning around once again, looking out at the garden, full of flowers in their blooming season. You were trying you really were, but you couldn’t understand. To you, he wanted you as her own personal doll, like if you couldn’t handle yourself and that made your chest tighten with a deep sense of irritation. You felt—no, you were trapped.
“You’ll watch them burn,” Seungcheol matched your firm stare, he was as stubburn as you were that was either exciting on extremely infuriating. “But I need to to listen to me sweetheart. You’re feeling like this and I get it, I really do. What I need you to understand is that I can’t let you go out like nothing is happening. I am still carrying the weight for taking that decision of leaving every second that passes and it kills me to think of what you went through, but this is the present and I am here so please work with me here.”
“Work with me too Choi, I’m feeling useless once again! Trapped here because men can’t handle a woman doing a better job at sabotaging a mafia gang, a really sexist move—”
“You think this is because you’re a woman?” Seungcheol scoffed raising slightly his voice, he was now annoyed at her own assumption. Yes it was part true, but mostly because his instinct made him like this, it is not an excuse, but definitely not doing it condescendingly. “God, you’ve proved to be a smart fearless woman Y/n, you’ve done so much damage alone with just a sultry smile. But you know, you fucking know how dangerous that is, you’ve been in danger for it! You actually think I’ll let you do that again?”
“You are not—and I repeat Choi— you are not the boss of me. You have no right to tell me what I can or can not do, so get that on your fucking head”
“It’s not about that, fucking hell” he groaned, running his hand through his hair. “I can’t lose you twice! You’re mad at me I get it, I made a mistake. But I am here and I can’t do this, I can’t let you go now that I know what’s going on! And before you open that sassy mouth of yours, I was in the dark before. I didn’t know what was going on, if I did I would’ve stopped you, I would’ve done the dirty job so you wouldn’t have to move a single finger. But I didn’t I wasn’t there but right now I’m here and I want to do everything to protect you, fuck I’m scare I could lose you!”
There was evident frustration and anger towards himself, you could see that. You hated how he still had that power over you, that he still has that effect of making you soft for him.
“I get it too, you’re here and I appreciate it… a little” you sighed and sat down leaning into his desk “but I’m not the same soft woman, I am now someone that is willing to kill people, I am determined to kill the people who took my family away from me.”
“You’re so stubborn.” Seungcheol groaned, he knew this was going to be difficult, but he did not knew keeping you safe would be like this “I don’t want you to be where the real danger is.”
“Oh, and the danger I’ve been through is not real?” you snapped at him, once again, let’s minimize everything. “I was this damn close to being raped, I have been assaulted, the men going to that speakeasy bar are disgusting, you think being there didn’t earned me a few ass grabbing without my consent? Why do you think I’ve killed people? Those dumb ass fuckers tried to take advantage of me, of a woman. Isn’t that dangerous enough for you?”
“Please, stop” Seungcheol winced, like the way you mentioned everything hurt him
“Why? Are you uncomfortable? This is the truth Seungcheol, this is me. A woman that went through all this uncomfortable disgusting shit. I am this woman ready to kill and I do not need a gun, I will do it with no goddamn remorse.” Your tone firm and steady cause you were already irritated. “This is what is going to happen next darling, You’re going to let me get my stuff or bring them to be I’ll be flexible with that. But I won’t stay behind these fucking doors. So, you either count me in your next move or I’m out. And trust me on this. You’ll never see me again.”
“Y/n—”
“No I don’t give a shit who’s mafia you are the boss of I will leave. I already lived almost two years without you, I can do it again.” The finality of your words struck something inside Seungcheol, the simple idea of you leaving and not needing him was crushing him.
He’s The Choi Seungcheol, Sector17 Mafia Boss, a terrifiying threat to others, hearless with others. But you, he’s not Choi Seungcheol, he’s Cheol. The man who fell in love with your eyes, the one oddly captivated by this new you.
Because of course, while you were ranting, he’d be thinking on how hot you sounded, how fierce and daring you are. That did something to him, dangerously sexy, weirdly endearing. Making him fall in love with you more, oh yes definitely.
Still, the fear lingers, because what you’ve told him makes him see red, wanting to kill those fuckers
But you already did that so…
“You leave me speechless sweetheart.” Seungcheol leaned back on his chair. That starteled you. With your smart mouth you’d think he would be mad, screaming back at you. Being as stubborn as you are and order you threatening you even. But there he is, a smirk showing on his face, ears red and you know they’re not angry red.
“What?”
“I’m impressed and gotta admit—” He licked his lips tilting his head “I’m a little turned on right now.”
You chocked on your own saliva, did he really just said that? “Choi Seungcheol!”
“I’m not going to go into details about that. Yet.” He chuckled at your own expression “let’s make two deals.”
“This should be interesting. Go on” you raised an eyebrow, ready to listen but also ready to say no. “I’ll send someone to get all your belongings from your apartment, everything and I’ll buy whatever else you need. But you stay with me here. Live here in this mansion. As my love or not, it is up to you. Just, I want you to live here in a comfortable more sanitary space.”
“Choi Seungcheol,” your warning tone made him wince but he ignored it
“At least until we tear ATZ apart and I am 100 percent sure no one wants to rip your head off.” He pleaded making you roll your eyes, he lifted his hand the second he saw you were ready to respond “I’m giving you space too sweetheart. I want you, all of you. I also want you to be safe and living properly like you should live. You’ll get your stuff and more, just stay here until everything get’s dealt with. Which leads me to the next deal.”
With a sigh, the offer was tempting enough to make you consider. You liked the idea of having a bath without hearing your neighbor at the apartment next to yours flush their toilet with a grunt.
“Go on.”
“Stay by my side. Plan everything, give my men orders if you might. Get information at the bar when things calm down a little more, be Miss Cherry again if you need to, but with my supervision,” you blinked. Supervision? “I mean, having someone undercover with you too. I know and you’ve made very clear that you can do this alone but just humor me with that will you. You’d be part of everything, but with someone next to you. With me next to you.”
You were torn.
You wanted to deny his request and be as stubborn as you can be, a nightmare because you had your pride. But you also wanted to rest, this has been exhausting and you will be honest, staying back and enjoy the life he’s proposing is very much tempting.
Thinking about it for a second, the answer was there.
“Alright.” You cleared your throat, “First deal, done. But I am going to chose the new stuff, I do not trust your men’s taste. Maybe Jeonghan’s cause he’s really pretty.” Seugncheol chuckled and raised an eyebrow, it was funny that you thought he was pretty, considering he’s the most lethal, hearless and the team’s biggest manipulator.
“You got it.”
“The second deal is… interesting.” straightening your back you tilted your head “Okay, let’s work together. You will not shut down my approaches, I will have my gun with me at all times, I will go back as Miss Cherry” you watched his expression tighten at the mention of Miss Cherry “I will not deal privately with men like before. I know that’s upsetting you, so no I will not be as flirty as I used to be. One last thing, Cheolie please do not make one of your gorillas work with me. I can’t disguise them as ladies.”
“As interesting as it could be, no they won’t be the ones going with you. I have the perfect barman, waiter whatever. He’s one of the best at hiding in plain sight and excellent hand to hand fighting.” He grinned, thinking about it. “His name is Lee Chan.”
“Alright then, deal.”
For a second you considered how this would turn out. You had him as your ally.
Change of plans
Inside The Diamond, the jazz music was so loud you could feel it, the dance floor packed with flappers in shining dresses and men in sharp suits dancing like there was nothing to worry about.
You’re back as Miss Cherry, it had been a “quiet” day so far. You’d been on the look out for any member or close tail to ATZ but has been boring. Behind the bar, Chan was already in character, wearing a white apron with his sleeves rolled up, with too much ease he was making and sliding glasses of bootleg gin across the wood like it was second nature.
“Wow, you look like you’re a professional at this, does Seungcheol know you drink kid?” you murmured, leaning against the bar with a chuckle at Chan’s rolling eyes, you adjusted the red mask. “Are you even legal?”
“I am, and this is not that difficult you know. I’m a fast learner” Chan replied smoothly, not breaking his rhythm as he wiped down the counter. His eyes flicked subtly toward the entrance. “Looks like we’ve got company.”
You didn’t turn around immediately. Instead, you picked up your glass, catching the reflection in the mirror behind the bar. A man in a sharp but too plain suit, with a distinct too aggressive posture, a familiar one that many ATZ soldiers had.
He was looking for someone, for you specifically.
“Keep your distance, but stay sharp,” you whispered to Chan.
“Copy that, boss.” Chan said with a quick, easy grin before moving down the bar to ‘serve’ another customer.
You rolled your eyes trying to hide a smile at the charm Chan has even in tense situations. Difficult to believe he’s a professional streetfighter.
Putting on your best Miss Cherry smile— flirty, alluring, and entirely unbothered by this man’s “scary” appearance—you waited for him. The man stopped right in front of you, his eyes locking onto your mask. He’s tall, you could tell he had the job to be the intimidating one. His eyes were filled with annoyance and a sharp condescending stare bore into your own eyes. His deep voice a contrast to what he wanted to say, what he might want to prove.
“Miss Cherry,” his voice low and with that edge trying to intimidate you “The boss has been looking for you. You’ve been making a lot of noise in this city lately.”
“Well, what can I say darling, a lady likes to make an entrance,” you purred, tilting your head. “And who exactly is your boss? I talk with so many gentlemen darling, I lose track when they’re not interesting.”
The man took a step closer, his eyes scanning the bar, remaining a second too long on Chan before snapping back to you. “You know exactly who. I wanted to make sure you were still taking care of your playground and the kids. We’ll talk soon again.”
Without another word, he looked up and down at you with disdain and just spun on his heel and walked out the heavy front doors.
This is not right.
A cold realization made your stomach drop. “Chan,” you called out quietly, walking behind the bar as calm as ever, your voice dropping its playful edge. “Something’s wrong, that was an AZT rat, you need to clear the area and try to get the rest here, just don’t be too obvious, okay?”
“Right,” Chan’s posture is instantly stiffening. “Sora said that guy came here like three times yesterday and waited almost till they closed. She’s now in the back office, don’t worry. I’ll check outside, please Noona do not go outside, you got your gun right?”
“Of course,” you smiled fondly. You could see it, behind that whole tough streetfighter kid, he was just trying to look out for everyone. “Now go.”
Nodding he walked to the front of the bar, the noise people chatting and dancing, disguised Chan’s worry and intent on checking if there’s more men to be cautious about. He needed to get the guys that had been on the other side of the street back here.
No, Seungcheol did not feel comfortable with just Chan around, he gives him credit for his street fight skills and he is perfectly capable of taking care of you and all, but this isn’t just a little fight, and it is not a one on one fight, a whole mafia is looking a way to get their hands on you, you’ve murdered and messed with their “team” so one man won’t be enough.
Chan knew this, so he’d been also in charge of planning everything with his brothers, Soonyoung and Jun had been disguised right across the street, chatting at a local restaurant.
Inside the bar, you were already on edge, adjusting your gun on your thigh, and ears perked up aware of every little sound, the words and abrupt leave of that man were bad news, and you knew it. Which is why the small but sharp, muffled gasp cut through the jazz music making you turn towards the entrance of the private rooms, it was loud enough for you to hear, but not enough to make others turn.
Through the dim lighting, you saw a figure dressed entirely in black. He wasn't exceptionally tall, but he was broad and heavy enough to completely pin Haewon against the wood paneled wall. To the drunken crowd on the dance floor, it looked like a couple having a private moment, but you saw the truth immediately and you felt your blood run cold.
The man shifted, and the glint of a silver blade now very visible to you. He had a knife pressed firmly against the soft skin of Haewon’s throat. A single thin line of red was already forming where the metal was pressed firmly on her skin.
“Don’t scream, sweetheart,” the man hissed, his eyes then tracking you as you stepped closer. “Ah, Miss Cherry. Pleasure to meet you. Walk closer. Quietly. If you reach down for that gun, I’ll open her up right here.” The man nodded towards your leg with a smug smirk, he was already lusting over your body and as always, you felt the need to puke.
You were trapped. The distance was too far for you to get your gun out fast, and even if you did, the knife would cut her before your bullet could hit his brain. You can not afford risking Haewoon’s life.
“Let her go,” you said, your voice remarkably steady, though your heart was pounding. You took a slow, deliberate step toward him. “You want me, right darlin’? Mhm, the guy I put down a few days ago—what, was he your boyfriend? You boys take things so personally. It’s adorable.”
The man’s face contorted in rage. “Shut your mouth bitch! Take your gun and knife out, I know you have one. Don’t you dare try something or I swear to god I’ll cut her head off.”
To prove his point, his hand moved too fast. Haewon let out a strangled sob as the man sliced the knife into her forearm, blood quickly soaking through her pale lace sleeve.
“Stop, stop!” you commanded, raising your hands in the air, your sarcastic mask completely dropping. “Alright look, look! I’m taking it out. Don’t touch her.”
With two fingers, you carefully reached into your skirt, pulled out the small pistol and the knife letting it fall to the ground with a soft thud. “Just, take me instead. I’m the one you and your damn boss want. She’s a nobody, Let her go, and I’ll walk out that door with you right now.”
“A nobody you apparently care about, sweetheart” The man grinned, a nasty. Creepy disgusting smile.
“Come on now, don’t waste your time on her, unless you want to face your boss on how you lost me because you had a good time with a waitress.” You taunted him, “I mean, she is beautiful but she’s not what Hongjoong wants.” The man looked at you with pure hatred. He shoved Haewon hard against the wall, causing her to slide to the floor, clutching her bleeding arm. He grabbed your wrist with a strong grip already causing a bruise as he now twisted your arm behind your back shoving you toward the heavy wooden exit at the back towards the alley.
“Enough, move bitch,” he growled forcing you to walk.
As he pushed you outside, you could see someone come around the corner of the alley, it was Chan, he quickly lifted his gun pointing at the man behind you.
“Let her go, now!” Chan shouted, but before he could even take one more step a second man approached from behind a car
Bang! Bang!
The man fired and Chan followed instantly, he fired twice not able to hit him but then, with terrifying precision and before the man holding you could even fire, Chan shoot two times. The bullets tore into the man’s right shoulder, a few inches and he would’ve shot through his heart. This allowed the man by the car to shoot back, the bullets still missed Chan, smashing into the brick wall behind him, but right at that exact second, the back door flew open again. Haewon stumbled out into the alley, pale, bleeding, and screaming your name, both men took it as a chance to get in the car. The first one holding his shoulder tightly and in visible pain, he had long forgotten his gun, the second one had thrown you inside like if you were a trash bag.
“Haewon, get back inside!” Chan yelled. His instinct to protect the civilian made Chan jump in front of Haewon to push her back into the safety of the building.
The man turned on the car and quickly stepped on the gas pedal, the tires screeching against the wet gravel of the alley taking off towards the main avenue.
Chan ran after the car for half a block, his face twisted in pure, unadulterated fury and terror, a little too late, his backup ran towards him cursing and throwing hands already.
“Damn it!” he screamed, slamming his fist against an iron lamp post.
“What the hell happened Chan!” Jun exclaimed a little out of breath catching up to him “Fuck.”
“Chan, we have to go back to the mansion” Soonyoung said a little to calm, but Chan knew it was to not alarm him, he knew what this meant. ATZ had you now, and Seungcheol was going to burn the entire city to the ground when he finds out and Chan feared he’d be the first to be burned.
New Strategy
The interior of the old car smelled awfully cheap, you couldn’t even hide the disgust on your face. In a very messy way, the men had managed to tie your wrists with a very used rope, questionable dirty. You didn’t say anything, didn’t make a sound. You kept your chin high, staring straight at the back of the driver’s head already plotting if he’d take the honors when you put a bullet there.
Even with that confidence you always carry or with this wish to shoot the men who had taken you, a part of you—a big part of you— was terrified, nervous wreck and wanted to cry.
You couldn’t show that.
Calm the fuck down. You told yourself, your heart was beating too fast, palms were already starting to sweat and you were shaking probably.
But you can’t show that. Not yet. Being weak and with fear is just a death sentence with bastards like them. Though this could go two ways, you could play the damsel in distress, beg for forgiveness and protection. OR you could have fun with them, even if it is your last day in this world because of it.
You chose to have fun, they do deserve it.
To them, this was a kidnapping of the Choi’s canary, his little love. To you it wasn’t exactly that, you took this as an invitation to a house party, and you are the VIP guest.
How will this party go? Well, you had every intention of tearing them apart from the inside. What’s that saying? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?
Also, you’re now a drop of poison, one that spreads quietly and no one will notice until is too late. You’re planning on taking down the entire foundation a family built. If you can call it a family…
The moment the car finally stopped in front of a modest, two-floors brick house tucked away in a quiet corner you bit your lip trying not to laugh.
This was ATZ’s low-profile Manhattan safehouse, it surprised you but also didn’t. ATZ were known to be chaotic at investing, even though their Boss had the charm to “take” cargo and manage “good business” (not mentioning the fuck up they did to your father’s business) you would’ve imagined a better safehouse. Better car, men dressed better and not a car that smells way too cheap to being a mafia car.
This house was a joke, but you can work with this.
“Get out, bimbo.” The man that was bleeding opened the door, he didn’t even wait for you to step out, he dragged you with his good hand “Jongho, drive the car to Yeosang’s house.” At that you snorted causing the man to hold your arm tighter “Quiet bitch,”
“Wooyoung, let Hyung deal with her first.” Wooyoung hissed once he tried to move you again, his shoulder was still slowly bleeding from the two holes Chan had put in his shoulder.
“Wooyoung, pretty name darling.” You spoke with that soft alluring tone you’d always use with men. He only made a noise close to a growl holding you way too tightly by your elbow and you could see it. He was sweating, his face now a little pale with pain and maybe panic. Well he was losing blood, certainly panic is the feeling you should have.
“In. Move, damn it.” he hissed, shoving you through a heavy oak door.
The moment the door slammed shut, you didn’t look for an exit. You examined the house, every detail would work if you wanted to hit the nail. You let out a soft, mocking sigh, inspecting everything. “A bit small for mafia headquarters, isn’t it?” you hummed when he simply shoved you to a small room, he was still holding his shoulder and you could tell he was in severe pain. “So, Wooyoung—it is Wooyoung, right?— Darling you need to get that checked. Does Hongjoong actually pay you enough to take two bullets for him, or are you just fond of losing blood?”
Wooyoung froze, but his annoyance showed, followed by the pain. “You should shut up if you want to stay alive.”
“I’m just saying. I mean, come on darling am I worth two bullets—by the way millimeters to the right and you’re gone— your safety should be a priority you know. What kind of family does this?”
“You don’t know anything about us” his voice was low, intended to scare you. “Talk about family, where’s your dear love? He let you out without much of a short ass fella as back up. Good aim, I give him that.”
“At least he did shot something, bubbles over there didn’t even land one.” You rolled your eyes tilting your head you looked at his shoulder “Your boss should really help you, if he cared enough he should be here with you by now. You need to get that checked darling.” Your voice was soft, like you cared. Which certainly you don’t, but that he shouldn’t know.
Wooyoung coughed, causing a sharp pain go through his shoulder. “Fuck,”
“Darling, seriously get that checked. Look I’m obviously not going anywhere, but if you don’t get that—” you sighed in disapproval “it’s going to get worse. Your leader should be here, taking care of you, where’s the medic? Where is he? Most importantly, why is he not worried one of his men has been shot? I mean word goes fast. I’m wondering if Jongho is with him already telling him how he captured Miss Cherry.”
You could see the exact moment doubt, anger and not so surprisingly jealousy, was inviding his thoughts. The seed had been planted, now it’s time to carefully keep it growing.
His jaw twitched, his eyes flicking toward the closed doors. He was anxious, irritated, and entirely in pain.
“Darling, I might’ve been a menace and a bitch at first. But god that looks nasty—”
Before you could say more and he could answer, the doors swung open, Yeosang was there. His face was a mask of coldness and the moment his eyes dropped to your unmasked face, fury was rising. He then looked at Wooyoung’s bloody arm.
“Well, least you brought her.” Yeosang said, his voice flat. He walked right to you, he was squaring up, as if he wanted to strike you across the face. All for the man you had killed two nights ago, you were curious now. Really, were they secret lovers? Cause that man certainly was not gay. Maybe he’s into both, whatever it is, Yeosang’s blood was boiling at the mere sight of you “You’re as cheap as I imagined.” He spat with so much hatred that you fought your need to mock him.
“I got shot, where’s Hongjoong, I need a medic.” Wooyoung interrupted your stare battle with Yeosang, causing him to roll his eyes.
“He’s going to be back in 20 min.”
“20 min— What the fuck I don’t have 20 minutes!” Wooyoung was on the edge of freaking out properly.
“You’re going to be fine, keep pressure on it. I’ll tell Jongho to bring something to clean that up in the meantime” he dismissed so beautifully Wooyoung’s pain, a fresh nerve to hit next.
You tilted your head as a small, very audible scoff left your lips. “Well, first the risk at the bar and then the health? Your leader does not care about his own family.” your voice dropping to a dangerously soft whisper. “You’re angry at me cause I killed your friend, but come on darling, who let him in that bar without backup? I mean, Hongjoong let him go alone. I honestly think that was careless. I mean, one more man one less man, it does not make a difference in this team. Does it?”
Yeosang’s heart was pounding, his breathing uneaven as he stared at you, fists ready to strike a hit and his anger was building but also colliding with the uncomfortable truth your words had. Hongjoong didn’t care.
Yeosang knew it, he simply tried to not acknowledge it and fully blame you cause it was the best and most logical thing, you were the one who pulled the trigger. Hongjoong was at fault too, he knew the feud, the family was going through a rough patch, he should’t have been left alone, San shouldn’t have been left alone.
You were tearing them down, brick by brick, soft words to make them doubt, make them feel this unsettling truth. It is a shame the poisonous seed has grown too fast. God, it already stuck two nerves and all of it before you even reached the main room.
Back at the Choi mansion, the atmosphere was thick enough to choke.
The heavy doors of the study opened with a harsh thud as Chan burst inside, his white apron covered in Haewon’s blood, The girls followed Soonyoung as he led them to the side. Sora was pale from head to toe and a bandaged, sobbing Haewon followed close behind.
“Boss,” Chan choked out, his face a pale and with guilt and adrenaline Seungcheol looked at him and knew something was wrong. Seriously wrong. Chan rarely called him boss, anyone really, but specially him. Chan also rarely had come with bad news and when he did his face would be entirely filled with frustration and disgust. Right now, Chan looked seconds away from fainting.
“They took her. ATZ. I hit one of them twice, but...” he looked back at Haewon who looked at Seungcheol and lowered her head “The girls were also in danger, everything happened too fast, I had to cover Haewoon but then I lost— I’m so sorry, they got Y/n. I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.” With that, Chan’s legs completely gave up and fell to his knees.
The silence that followed was terrifying.
Seungcheol didn’t move for a whole minute that felt like hours. He sat behind his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes locked onto Chan, a trembling war could be seen. So many emotions fighting to make an appareace. Anger, pure rage, fear and dreadful scenarios of you somewhere alone or de…
Seungcheol shook his head gently, he was too calm. For a split second, everyone in the room was expecting the Boss to pull his gun and paint the wall with Chan’s blood.
Seungcheol took a slow, heavy breath, regulating the explosive, terrifying rage vibrating in his chest that he would’ve let out in no time.
But when he looked at Haewon’s bandaged arm, Sora’s pale face scared out of her mind and then Chan on his knees trembling with fear and guilt. He just couldn’t.
Seungcheol could be many things, he’s a killer with no hesitation. He is merciless boss, he does not care who ends up hurt in the process of doing business, he can and is deathly.
There’s something else.
Seungcheol is a family man
He can be a danger in the streets, business, illegal shipments and fights. But he still has a duty to help his family, and his family comes first every time.
He believes in Chan, and despite his heart being torn in every painful way because you’re now in danger, he knows Chan did what he could. But he also knows something else is there.
“Stand up, Chan,” Seungcheol said, his voice low and terrifyingly calm “You protected the girls. Y/n will be relieved and thankful for that. And that’s why I know this is not entirely your fault Chan, Y/n complied with them because she wanted the girls safe. We all know what she’s capable of, she is not a helpless girl. I know for sure she let them take her, she knew exactly what she was doing. She just changed the damn plan.”
Chan stood up, still fearing Seungcheol would hit him or kill him in the spot “Still, I should’ve stayed, aimed better and kill those bastards—”
“Enough, what’s done is done, we can’t change that. We have to focus on this situation now. Chan, we’ll talk about this later. Stop worrying I’m not going to kill you.” Seungcheol spoke while walking over to the massive wall map of Manhattan.
He knew you. He knew that even if you didn’t have your gun, you would’ve break free from them.
He also knew what the plan would be now. You’re not only a great shooter, you had your sharp tongue and reckless courage. So, he knew that was your weapon. He knew you were doing your own damage now, he just had to follow that plan on the outside.
Seungcheol figured how you had taken this opportunity to be closer and do your own damage. His heart aching with a terrifying mixture of pride and pure panic.
You’re playing mind games with them, aren’t you, sweetheart?
“Cheol, I have a new plan.” Seungcheol hummed, his eyes burning into the map. Jeonghan adjusted his own tie. He was also annoyed, mostly because he hated seeing his brother like this. “If my predictions are correct, they are going to send some kind of message, threats using her as the bait.”
“If they are smart enough to dig about it.” Jihoon mumbled.
“They will. It is not normal for a Choi member to defend a woman working as a Hostess.” Wonwoo answered, he shook his head and with a long sigh.
In that moment, like a prediction Seungcheol did not want, an ATZ member had been sent to give information about you. How they had been tracking you as Y/n and Miss Cherry, Hongjoong had found how it did tied you up with Seungcheol.
“So, they do think she is my weakness.”
“And we’re going to let them believe it.” Jeonghan replied “They are reckless, Hongjoong just sent one of his men to us like he’s disposable. We need to let him think he’s got the upper hand, let him think he’s gaining power.”
“If he thinks he’s got you cornered, they’ll get sloppy,” Wonwoo advised, taking off his glasses as he leaned over the desk. “While Hongjoong is busy gloating and staring at you thinking he’s got you, he won’t be looking anywhere else.”
“Interesting,” Seungcheol caught up to what he was implying, “We’ll be a distraction.”
“Yes.”
Seungcheol’s dark smirk was growing, and that only meant one thing. He was already planning the next move. There will be a backup team, they will stay hidden, in the shadows, practically invisible. The rest of the members will take advantage of this breech and take every shipment and business, burn their warehouses and take down their entire operation down by the river. While they’re holding you down and making a show for Seungcheol. All their worth will be taken down.
Jeonghan is right, ATZ had gone mad and their greed made everything worse.
Mind Games Before Showtime
You don’t know exactly how long you’ve been here, but God you are bored, it’s starting to be annoying.
Hongjoong had been delaying meeting you simply to play a game. He sat behind a small mahogany desk, at a very small office. He had a glass of whiskey next to his cheap ashtray.
This place was suffocating you.
Finally, Wooyoung was instructed to take you to Hongjoong, so he tried his best to “drag” you into the small office, with his good arm.
The moment you entered the ‘office’ your presence completely changed the mood. You were unbothered by everything and Hongjoong was eager to meet you thinking this would be fun.
You stood with your shoulders squared, not daring to show how anxious you were. You kept looking at Hongjoong with an expression that showed absolute boredom.
“So, you’re the boss? Mr.— whatever.” you rolled your eyes, a mocking tilt to your lips as you glanced around the modest room. “I must say, I expected more… class from the man trying to start a war in Manhattan. This looks like my late grandmother’s house”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve. Miss Cherry.” Hongjoong leaned forward, his eyes scanning you. “But, you certainly are a beauty Miss Y/n, I can see why Seungcheol is so into you and why he’s weak for you. I have his beautiful possession.”
You let out a soft, mocking laugh, stepping closer to the desk without hesitation. He wasn’t going to objectify you nor make fun of you. “Possession? Oh, darling, you really don’t understand how this world works, do you?” You turned around to look at the man who was standing too stiff at the door looking at you as if he was planning your murder. You looked at the other man who still looked in pain.
“Let me tell you a secret about your sweet Hongjoong boys, he thinks everyone is an object to be traded. He thinks you are objects too. I mean, he let your friend die at The Diamond, and he’s going to use you as target practice while he tries to trade his way without even talking to you. Do you even care about them boss?”
“Shut her up, Wooyoung.” Hongjoong snapped, his face darkening as he saw Wooyoung shift uncomfortably on his feet. The man was clutching his poorly bandaged shoulder, his brow furrowed as your words were hitting bulls’ eye on his doubts as a family.
“Why? Afraid they’ll realize you don’t actually have a plan for them?” you taunted, leaning your palms flat against the chair in front of his desk staring him dead in the eye. “You think you’re going to get Seungcheol but oh boy, you’re in for a surprise”
“The one that should be prepared is you darling. I’m not going to let you go so easily.” He leaned back, he still felt in charge which made it hard for you to contain your laughter “I know who you are Lee y/n, you’re just as nosy as your father.”
That hit a nerve in you, but right now you need to stay strong and not give in. Just like you did minutes ago, he’s trying to rage bait you. He can’t and you won’t give him that.
“Am I? Well, I certainly am a curious person.”
“Just like he was and look where he is now. Dead, stiff and buried and well deserved. That old man was giving me a headache, he was sick and useless either way. Better dead than getting in my way.” Hongjoong smirked, every second that passes you tried to calm yourself and not react. “If you don’t shut up and behave, you’d be meeting him soon.”
“Well, either way I am not the one to be afraid of dying. You however, have no way of wining if you kill me. You and your boys are in for a treat if you do. You guys know right? Just like his pretty head is looking for a trade, if things go south you’ll be the first to go down. Think your pretty boss will protect you? He’d throw you to the lions first.”
“You certainly do not know when to shut up.” Hongjoong stood up as he walked around his desk to stand next to you he roughly grabbed your face holding your chin up. “Mmhm, I’m starting to consider keeping you baby. Are you this fierce in bed? If so, we’re going to have so much fun.”
The mere thought was disgusting to you, he’s young and stupid. “Oh I am, but you’ll be dead if you try, so I strongly advise you not to try any funny business with me darling.” You swatted his hand away, pure hatred ran through your veins now.
“Who decides what happens is me. For now, consider yourself lucky, bimbo. We’re going to meet your prince later if I feel like it. Take this whore away.” Hongjoong spat as he walked back to his chair, he raised an eyebrow when he saw Wooyoung not moving like Yeosang who instantly grabbed your arm with a grip that will definitely leave another bruise. “What?”
“My arm is killing me, I need a doctor, Hong—”
“Tell Jongho about that, and fix it yourself, it doesn’t look that bad so stop whining” you had to do everything in your power to stop yourself from smirking. Unknowingly he was destroying his team. You just needed another ten minutes with Wooyoung and this will go down perfectly.
As you expected, you were placed in a crappy room with an old couch and very dirty curtains covering the small windows. The walls were a hideous yellow color only making your head hurt. The smell, god you can’t even begin to explain how old and how much of humidity filled the room.
True to your own prediction, Wooyoung walked in after a few minutes followed by Yeosang.
“Are you here to keep me company? I thought you hated me dear.”
“Shut up bitch, you’re lucky he ordered us not to touch you. Fuck, you’d be death if it was up to me.”
“I know, you’re so angry because I killed your buddy.” You smiled, softly now changing your voice “I am actually sorry. Sorry that it had to be your friend. Honestly I didn’t killed him if I didn’t had a reason. Sorry to inform that your buddy was a very naughty man who didn’t take no for an answer.”
“You think I believe you? San would never pay attention at a cheap whore like you. God knows how many used your pussy.” He spat full of venom and hatred in his eyes.
“Hey, be respectful.” You pointed at him. Many thought that way of you and what you did, but you were not going to take it from him. “Let’s not go that way, cause the way you’re reacting only confirms my thoughts, you’re so fucking Gay. It’s not a bad thing. Just careful, Hongjoong doesn’t seem the man who wants someone like that on his oh so called team.”
“I am not a faggot you bitch!” Yeosang was ready to put a hand on you, so far to keep your plan going you were not going to fight back, but this time you need to defend yourself.
That was long forgotten when Wooyoung stopped him. With a loud hiss due to his bloody arm he stood in front of Yeosang.
“Don’t. Hongjoong is going to take care of that slut.”
“Look, I’m sorry okay? But you started it.” You rolled your eyes sitting on the awkward old bed. “I don’t judge, I have customers at the bar going there for a free time with their own partners, so it’s okay. I am sorry I killed your friend. ButI mean it though, be careful.”
“With what, whores like yourself?”
“No, with a boss like yours.” You scoffed “you guys seriously are working for the worst boss I’ve ever known. Look at you! Wooyoung your arm keeps bleeding, you got a bullet in there and he did not care, if Sector 17 doesn’t kill you that bullet will. And you, if he finds that you like men, damn… are you hundred percent sure he’d be okay with that? How are you safe with him? All I see is a man who wants power and does not care who gets hurt in the process, not even the men who take a bullet for him.”
Seungcheol is getting impatient.
Hongjoong has been taking his fucked time to indeed torture him, more like pissing him off each minute that passes.
After a few hours of you missing, a man that reached Sector17, gave the location for this reunion. Seungcheol had done everything, secured the place, the shadows and the team is already taking one by one the docks and more. The only thing left is meeting him.
Jeonghan had predicted this, Hongjoong’s idea of taking you as a bait, as an exchange for power.
Hongjoong wasn’t entirely stupid, he put two and two together, did his own research when he realized someone was messing with his ports and sabotaging his cargo, he had spent days trying to find who you were. It took him a little longer than Seungcheol, but he found you and connected the dots. Seungcheol’s sweetheart, had been left alone to survive this world, after her father died thanks to him, her mother committed suicide and her sister leaving, you were all alone.
Seungcheol’s sweetheart might be worth something. If not, he could always keep her or kill her. A win win somehow.
“Please calm down and stop moving,” Jeonghan groaned from the passenger seat, Seungcheol had parked a few feet away from the abandoned warehouse Hongjoong had claimed to meet. Convenient for what is going to happen. No noise, no cops no nothing.
“My woman is inside that fucking warehouse without a weapon and you expect me to be calm?” Seungcheol growled almost hitting Jeonghan.
“Alright. Man, you’re so lovesick Cheol.”
“I’m not… lovesick”
“You are! Cheol, you’re a mafia boss ready to kill a bastard just because he took your woman.” Jeonghan chuckled and tilted his head at the memory of you by Seungcheol’s side at his office “I don’t blame you, she’s wonderful.”
“I know she is.”
“And she’s smart Cheol. She’s doing her own thing in there, if she wasn’t they would have delivered her body to your feet already” Jeonghan scoffed, he didn’t know you entirely, but he saw that fire, that sassy mouth of yours. And he knows you’re smarter than they give you credit.
“I know she is. I know that, but I still worry. For fuck sakes I know she’s capable, fearless but she’s still a woman. One woman against at least five men, I love her I know she’s smart but still, they are stronger than her they could—”
“Let’s not think about that.” Jeonghan interrupted him before he could spiral any further.
Knowing how this world works, it’s so easy to predict what is going on there, to make their guesses on what he could be doing to you, it is easy to know that you indeed are weak against a mafia in any sort of physical fight. You might’ve taken down four men alone, but it was one by one.
Mingyu had already given the signal of everything being ready. Jun and Minghao were hidden waiting for the opportunity. Soonyoung was alert and Mingyu was watching the perimeter. It was time for Seungcheol and Jeonghan to get there.
“Wooyoung, hey look at me.” You said softly, a clear worry in your voice throwing him off guard “Please, let me look at that wound. I promise I’ll behave.”
“No.” Wooyoung hissed as he put more pressure on that poorly bandaged arm. He was now considering her help. It’s been two hours and the adrenaline had rushed down already and the pain was starting to be too much for him.
“I’m surprisingly worried about you. That wound does not look good. Seriously, is Hongjoong not going to do anything to help you?”
“I’m getting tired of you .” Yeosang spat crossing his arms “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you with my bare hands” his voice lower than you’ve heard so far. But no ounce of authority or threat made its way to you.
“I’m simply stating the facts Yeosang.” You tucked a lose hair behind your ear “He’s there back in his office with the other… men who funny enough know more about this marvelous plan. All calm, maybe even having a drink. While Wooyoung here is in agonizing pain and you’re watching the woman who killed your… friend. Honestly fellas, this has to be the worst leader.”
It was starting to work. The more you expressed the things Hongjoong did, the more they started to believe them. These two were vulnerable, and you had that in your favor. A man can be lethal with force, their bodies. But a woman can be lethal with words.
That is exactly what you were doing, being this poisonous woman, with sweet voice, with such ‘care’. You were now making them feel like they’re more valuable than their boss give them credit for.
Cause, what kind of leader lets their men, their family, die for a woman? For power in this reckless way? Where’s the loyalty, the brotherhood?
The door of the room opened with force, such a dramatic entrance.
“We’re going to see your boyfriend. Let’s see how brave you are when he’s on his knees next to you. I’m going to enjoy watching him beg me to not kill this pretty whore.”
“If I were you, I’d worry less about him on his knees, Hongjoong.” you whispered, your voice dropping into a sinister calm register. “You should focus more about saving your own neck.”
“I might actually miss this sassy mouth,” he said in a voice that for once send a sickening feeling “I am seriously considering not giving you up. You are beautiful, tempting.” He was looking at you differently now. Why now?
“You should be careful, i strongly advice you to stop.”
“And I strongly do not give a fuck, bitch. I gotta admit, you do smell good” He groaned. Walking too close to you he grabbed your face squeezing your cheeks, he got closer and took a deep breath, he was taking in your scent like if you were a drug “but you need to learn that your place is to obey. Fuck, you do look like a slut, I wonder if he’d still want you if I get my sweet time with you.”
“You are disgusting,” now you were slightly shaking. Behind this persona, behind the mask of you being a sassy bitch taunting them, you were a little scared.
“Careful, I might change my mind and actually keep you.” He growled and grabbed your arm forcefully “let’s go bitch.”
You knew that no matter where you were, Seungcheol had a plan, you already knew Sector17 was hidden, near and ready to shoot. If one thing you admire from Seungcheol is the way he handles things, he’s obvious for the mafia world but very cautious with the rest of the world, the good authorities and civilians.
Hongjoong stood in the center of the empty room, and you dare to say he looked anxious. He had Wooyoung by his side, though the man looked incredibly unstable. Not only because his wound was still untreated properly, because he was hyper aware of the surroundings.
You did not only plant hatred you also threw the reality of it all to them, fear of what’s going to happen, what you know and they don’t. Though it could be like giving them a heads up, you were careful enough to say it in a way that as much as they wanted to ignore, made them second guess stability, money, security and just about everything out of fear.
Yeosang stood just a pace behind them, holding you by the arm with a sweaty hand. You could feel the way he was alert of everything, like you told them, there’s always something they’ll miss.
You were unmasked, and even if you had lost all glamour, you stayed composed, with poise like you were a queen waiting for her king to get her home.
You had faked a yawn, your eyes tracking the tremor in Wooyoung’s hands. “You know, Wooyoung” you murmured, your voice carrying effortless fake concern mixed with a taunting tone “A real leader wuld’ve had a doctor look at that shoulder by now. But I suppose Hongjoong thinks a bit of gauze and a prayer is enough for you. I guess he likes his men to bleed for him.”
“Shut your mouth, bitch.” Yeosang hissed, giving your arm a warning shake.
“Both of you shut up” Wooyoung suddenly snapped, his voice cracking under the weight of pure exhaustion and pain. He spun toward Hongjoong, his brow furrowed in deep concern about this. “Hongjoong, seriously. What good is this meeting? We’re standing in a stupid warehouse with a whore, for what? What is the actual pay here?”
Hongjoong waved a dismissive, impatient hand, a smug, smile. “Calm the fuck down, we’re trading her. Seungcheol is going to hand over the distribution lines, the property deeds, and all the territory we need. We trade the whore, we get the power. It’s a simple transaction.”
“What is she made of gold? Fucking hell this is just a woman” Wooyoung was looking at you with disgust but you could see the fear and doubt about this ‘perfect’ plan. “It does not make sense. Why would-”
“Are you questioning me?” Hongjoong turned to him with annoyance at his assumption "This is going to be a trade. Seungcheol is going to do whatever i say or else, i'll kill her, worst case scenario we keep her and have our way with her."
“Good luck with that.” letting out a sharp, mocking laugh that cut through the small silence. “He’s lying to all of you and he’s incredibly inconsiderate. I bet he’s going to use this trade to line his own pockets and leave you two to take the fight when the Choi family comes back for blood. But I’m sure this is going to end badly for you. Very badly.”
Before Hongjoong could tell you anything else, the heavy wooden doors at the far end clicked open.
Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed against the concrete. Seungcheol stepped into the pale light, his long overcoat brushing against his boots, his expression entirely deathly. This was not Cheol you knew, this was Choi Seungcheol, the one ready to kill the goddamn parasite that has been bothering him since day one.
Beside him, Jeonghan walked with his hands tucked casually into his trousers, a sharp smirk playing on his lips. You found it funny, it didn’t even look like they were meeting with a mafia to rescue a hostage.
The tension in the room instantly spiked, it felt thick enough to almost be suffocating. Hongjoong immediately shifted, trying to project absolute control while his own men were still openly questioning his authority behind him.
Seungcheol’s eyes swept the room, and automatically found you. A sigh of relief left his chest after seeing you breathing and unharmed, but his dark brows immediately furrowed in a fierce, protective scowl. Your dark velvet dress was a little revealing—not too much, but enough to expose the skin of your collarbone and shoulders to the damp cold of the river air. You could see the way his jaw locked, he was furious that you were cold, he was furious you were in this shit hole and he wanted to end this clown immediately.
“You’re late, Choi,” Hongjoong called out, trying to mask his own nervousness with some sort of sarcastic confidence.
“I don’t like rushing into bad business, Hongjoong” Seungcheol replied, his voice a low, terrifying threat. It was a tone you’ve never heard him talk with, and it was very distracting, cause your body was reacting to it. Fortunately, no one would notice it.
But in other circumstances, you’d probably be on your knees.
Jeonghan tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with pure, malicious amusement as he picked up the word play. “Oh, look at that, Cheol,” Jeonghan chuckled, a smooth, poisonous mocking tone “The big, bad ATZ mafia, wants to take control but they can’t even afford to treat a small bullet wound for one of his best soldiers. They really think they can manage the northern territories? It’s hilarious, really funny.” he added, looking directly at Hongjoong, “delusion is a very unflattering treat on you.”
“I see we got another talker.” Hongjoong growled, his face was slowly turning crimson as the insults poked at his fragile ego. He moved slightly towards you and grabbed your face, a smirk appeared through his frustration. He turned to look at Seungcheol and the grin grew bigger when he saw the way his jaw tightened at his movement. “You think you’re in a position to mock me? I’ll take her away right now. I’ll keep her locked up in my safehouse, have my fun with her, and maybe let my boys use her until she understands her place and stops talking back at a man. Gotta tell you, I am loving the idea of it. Put her mouth to good use and relax.”
Seungcheol took an aggressive step forward, his knuckles turning white as he nearly fell for the infuriating bait. Jeonghan placed a hand in Seungcheol’s shoulder and just laughed, louder this time, his voice cutting through his bluff. “Honestly, I’d love to see you try but I have say, you are in no place to relax when you’re flat broke with no properties.”
Hongjoong blinked, his grip tightening on your arm. “What the hell are you talking about faggot?”
“Whoa, faggot? I mean I can take it as a compliment,” he looked amused by everything happening, he locked eyes with you and you raised an eyebrow then turning to Yeosang, a knowing click happened in Jeonghan’s brain “I mean, that’s how you talk to your brother over there? Dude, that’s messed up, you should respect. Love is love right? Let him be.”
“What? No one in my damn family is a faggot like you,” you scoffed and give Yeosang a knowing smile, Hongjoong turned to him ar that moment, he was now a pretty deep shade of red, you don’t know if it is embarrassing red or furious red. “I’ll deal with you later. Right now, you should pay for your sweetheart.” he turned to look back at Seungcheol
“You definitely are more stupid than I thought.” Seungcheol snarled, doing his best to control his temper, his eyes burning into him. “While you gathered your strongest men here to play a trade game, you left your cargo and business on the hands of weak idiots. My brothers have already burned your warehouses, your liquor cargo are in my trucks, and your financial ledgers are on my desk by now. Sector 17 has officially taken everything you’re worth.”
Wooyoung and Yeosang both froze, the color now draining from their facesv as they tried to make sense of what Seungcheol just revealed.
It was impossible, the member dealing with all financial shit was the best they knew, they trusted him completely he was enough to hold his own.
“Is that true?” Yeosang barked, completely abandoning his posture and even forgetting the exposure Jeonghan did, he confronted his boss. “You said we had this secured!”
“They’re lying you fucking idiot!” Hongjoong screamed, his voice cracking in utter panic. Throwing you towards Yeosang with a deathly look “Take her away—”
Suddenly, the side doors flew open, and two more ATZ men busted into the warehouse, their faces pale and covered in sweat. “Boss!” one of them shouted, his chest heaving. “We’re being hit, The perimeter outside is completely locked down by Sector 17— Kim and Kwon are tearing our guys apart!”
“What the fuck is happening Hongjoong!"
Seungcheol let out a cold, humorless chuckle. “It’s already over”
“No.” Hongjoong growled, completely losing his mind to a psychotic rage. He spun around, pointing wildly at you. “Take her away! You two idiots, kill them right now!” he screamed at the men his attempt to take control was amusing to you.
Seungcheol and Jeonghan both exhaled a breath, collectively trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the order. But before anyone could pull a trigger, a crash from the docks outside echoed outside the warehouse caused a small distraction.
Small, but enough for you to finally do something. In that split second, you moved.
You violently twisted your arm, freeing yourself from Yeosang’s loosened grip. Without missing a beat, you slammed your fist directly into Wooyoung’s bleeding shoulder injury before he could move to try and stop you. He screamed in absolute agony stumbling backwards, and you took the chance to swiftly take his own revolver straight out of his hand. You held it and pointed at them in a fraction of a second.
Bang! Bang!
You shot Yeosang directly on each thigh and Wooyoung in the knee, completely immobilizing them both as they crashed to the concrete, groaning in pain.
At the same time Seungcheol and Jeonghan had moved like one, their guns already shooting as they dealt with the two other men before they could even level their guns.
Hongjoong panicked, but before he could take his own gun out or even take a step towards the exit, a shadow dropped silently, Minghao landed gracefully in his path, his hand striking Hongjoong’s chest with enough force to choke him to take advantage and slam his fist on his face followed by his foot on his stomach throwing him backward onto the hard concrete. Minghao raised his foot, ready to beat him once again.
“Minghao, Stop!” you commanded, your voice loud and with enough force that echoed through the entire warehouse.
Minghao froze, his foot hovering inches from Hongjoong’s face
“Bring him to me,” you ordered, your voice dropping into a terrifying, sinister tone.
You were gone the second you took the gun from Wooyoung, you knew this was it. This was the moment you were so eagerly waiting for.
Hongjoong was on the floor, helpless and you were standing with a gun in your hand ready to make him pay for your own pain.
Minghao quietly obeyed, not even looking at Seungcheol. Somehow, you were looking more terrifying than him right now.
He was slightly concerned, just like Seungcheol was, but he did what you asked, grabbing Hongjoong by his collar and dragging him across the floor, Minghao threw him down at your feet like a piece of meat.
You stood over him, the revolver heavy in your hand, the pure, cold vengeance anger were visible in your eyes.
Everyone saw the way you were no longer Miss Cherry, god you were no longer Y/n, you were a woman with hatred in her blood ready to end the worthless man that lays by her feet.
“Well, well. Look at you darling. It suits you, on the floor on your knees in front of a woman.” The venom in your voice was overwhelming “You said you remember my father. You really thought you’ll get away with killing him and that I wouldn’t do something about it.”
The memories about that day, the ovewhelming feelings of loss, sadness, frustration, anger, all of it coming back at once. Having the man responsible for your father's death right there defensless useless and just there boils your blood.
Hongjoong spat a mouthful of blood onto your shoes, glaring up at you with wild, pathetic defiance. “You’re just a cheap, masked whore, nothing more.” he wheezed, insulting you through his teeth. “Useless like your stupid father—”
Bang!
A deafening crack echoed through the warehouse. You shot him directly in the groin, the bullet ripping straight through his dick.
Hongjoong let out an ear wrecking scream of pure agony, curling into a tight, trembling ball as blood pooled rapidly beneath his trousers. Every man in the room winced at the scene, you were not bothered by it in the slightest. Not even his whining and painful cries stopped this feeling of pure disgust towards him.
You slowly knelt down to his level, your face a mask of cold, psychotic malice. You reached out, your fingers wrapping forcefully around his jaw, twisting his face upward so he was forced to look into your merciless eyes. “You messed with the wrong family, with the wrong woman. I’m going to enjoy this.” You smiled, but there was nothing sweet about it. No, this was the smile of a deadly, mad woman toying with her prey.
“You are a pathetic piece of trash,” you whispered venomously still holding his face too tight. “The most stupid man I’ve met. You disgust me, a said mafia boss who claimed to have the power to take down the Choi family, the boss who killed just because a man was doing his job, the boss who threatened to abuse me. Pathetic, now look at you, bleeding on your knees with no gang to help your pathetic ass.”
Bang!
“Ops, there goes your ball sack” you laughed, a sinister tone that brought a chill down Seungcheol’s spine, a very confusing feeling.
Hongjoong choked on his own breath, pain was all he could feel now, slowly losing conscience because of all the blood he was losing.
“I’m no whore,” you pressed now the gun to his forehead “Let’s take that filthy tongue of yours out, I’m not done with you. You’re going to beg me to kill you.” You wanted him to suffer, to feel so much pain that he begs for mercy and you'll deny him that.
This moment you thought about for so many nights, so many times you wondered how you'd do this, how much fun will it be, how long will you play with your toy. It was almost turning into a fantasy of some sort.
Now that he's here, it is more exciting. Slowly might be your best option, hurting their manhood your signature, hearing his pathetic cries was music to your ears.
You wanted more, maybe after him you'd go for Wooyoung and Yeosang, you have one or two things planned to say to them. You were savoring this so badly, having too much fun.
This was a sight to see for everyone else, the beautiful woman torturing a supposed mafia boss. Your own presence was slightly captivating, and very unsettling.
It wasn't common for a woman to be like this, to enjoy this too much, to be so unbothered by the sight of so much blood, such a precise aim with a gun, such hunger in your eyes for more.
Seungcheol stepped up quietly to your side, his large hand coming to rest flat softly against your shoulder blade. As you look up, he saw the pure hatred vibrating through every fiber of your being. But his own eyes grounded you, bringing you slowly back to this present.
“Sweetheart.” his sweet but firm voice and the hand on your shoulder was enough to make you come back to your senses a bit. Still, you showed annoyance towards him interrupting your performace, your fantasy unfinished
“I’m busy Seungcheol. This scum—”
“I know,” Seungcheol grabbed your arm to help you stand up “Let’s get this over with sweetheart.”
You were slightly more aware of the surroundings, the eyes on you actually terrified of what they were seeing. Then you were aware of the heavy breathing of the other two agonizing bodies in pain.
This is ridiculous you thought. And tiring. You were already exhausted, but seeing him there on the ground already bleeding out, brought you more exhaustion than relief and that pissed you off.
Seungcheol is right, let’s get this over with.
“I think you deserve to suffer longer,” you raised the gun taunting him a little more “You do deserve to rot in here all alone, or maybe with your boys.” You then turned to look at the forms of Wooyoung and Yeosang on the floor without lowering the gun pointed at Hongjoong, you smiled at them, taunting with a single tilt of your chin.
"Gotta admit, this is so much fun."
You broke contact with them, looking one last time at Hongjoong’s bleeding body shaking with pain. Your eyes then looked up to meet Seungcheol’s steady, grounding gaze. You looked at him for a long, quiet beat, the storm in your chest settling just a little more. He didn’t have to say anything to you.
“Let’s end this already.” You said calmly, like shooting a bullet through this man's head wasn't a big deal. So you smiled at Hongjoong. “See you in hell.”
Then, without any sort of hesitation, you fired a final bullet straight through the center of Hongjoong’s forehead.
His body went entirely limp against the concrete.
You lowered the gun, turning your gaze back to Wooyoung and Yeosang, who were staring at you, not believing what happened and you could tell reality hit them as you were taking small steps towards them.
“Thank you,” you said softly, a dark, cynical smile on your lips. “Thank you, for making this so easy. I had fun talking to you, even though both of you are disgusting like he was. So, one last gift from me.”
Bang! Bang!
You fired both men on the groin as well, with a small laugh you shrugged “A gift for your stupid attitude. I am not a whore and both of you are just annoying and useless,” You turned your back on them completely ignoring their pleas and cries. You rolled your eyes and turned to Seungcheol, and you then noticed every Sector17 men there looked at you surprised, waiting for something else. Maybe you breaking down or going crazier. “They’re all yours boys.”
Seungcheol reacted immediately, his commanding aura taking over now. He looked back toward the entrance as Jun and the rest of the crew finally entered the warehouse. “Okay, Minghao, Jun—clear the floor,” Seungcheol ordered sharply, his voice carrying the absolute authority. “Jeonghan, Deal with everything. Wrap it up clean. We got a lot to do after this.”
“With pleasure, Boss.” Jeonghan smirked looking back at you and winked “I’m your fan dear.” With that he chuckled and turned towards the rest and looked down to the two men in agonizing pain. A sight to see, you really did shoot them in the balls “What a masterpiece” Followed by two loud gunshots
Seungcheol had already reached to you, his eyes softening instantly as he stepped Infront of you, completely blocking the bloody scene from your view. “It’s over now, sweetheart,” he murmured, his deep voice thick with emotion, all between pride, relief and something darker that he’s not going to point out here, not yet. Mostly he was glad. “I promise you, it’s completely over.”
“I know, Cheolie. Now I’d like to go home, please.” You were surprisingly calm though the raw adrenaline was still hot through your veins. Seungcheol did not hesitate.
He stripped off his heavy, warm overcoat and wrapped it securely around your shoulders, pulling you firmly against his chest to shield you from the cold river air you’d feel outside this shit hole.
“Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He whispered softly, his strong arms holding you tight as he began to lead you out toward the waiting car outside.
A Bitersweet Ending
The front gates of the mansion flew open before the engine even died. Chan stood on the threshold, his eyes were glued on the car and wide open looking for any confirmation. The moment he saw you step out of the car, wrapped in Seungcheol’s coat, a visible tremor passed through his shoulders and his face revealed the immense relief of seeing you alive, and back. He’d beat himself to death if something happened to you.
He spent just a couple of hours with you, he doesn’t really know you. But he knows Seungcheol, he knows his brother. He heard about you long before you came to the mansion. He always wondered how you’d be like, and how did you managed to steal his older brother’s heart. Seungcheol trusted him to take care of his woman and he’d failed, miserably. All he had done was shoot the man and not even to kill him. How on earth was that worth of anything?
He failed his brother. When he had informed Seungcheol he truly thought he’d kill him.
Chan had spent this entire time convinced that his failure had signed your death— and eventually his own. He looked at Seungcheol, his posture stiffening, preparing for the absolute worst from his Boss and you, he was ready to take it.
“She's fine, Chan,” Seungcheol said, his voice low and tired as he guided you up the marble steps, his large palm steady against the small of your back.
“Hey kid, I’m okay.” You said softly as you saw relief but guilt while looking at you. Not able to stand it, you walked to him and hugged him “You did nothing wrong you hear me? Cheol told me, you saved them and I am really grateful for that Chan.”
“I just— I failed, I thought they—”
“could kill me? No, I’m crazier than I look dear. Now, listen to me.” Pulling away he noticed you looked at him like Seungcheol would sometimes right when he’d scold him for not eating or leaving food on the pool table. That simple thing made him surpress a laugh “We’re fine, now go inside, take a shower and eat something. I’m sure as fuck you did not eat or drink anything. Go. Eat.”
Chan let out a small relieved chuckle. “Yeah, I will.” He grinned “The girls are perfectly safe, I took them home already”
The best streetfighter, a mafia member, but you still saw in him a kid, maybe he's not that young, but he is the youngest, he's not entirely new in this world, he has done his own damage, he has blood on his hands, but you couldn't stop it, he reminded you of your sister a little. So, he was a kid
“I better not hear you flirted with them Chan.” You warned him “Now, go eat. I’m not going to tell you again Lee Chan.”
“Yes, Boss.”
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Against his will, Seungcheol decided to give you time to rest.
Jeonghan, Minghao, and Jun had just slipped back into the mansion through the basement entrance, their expressions grim and focused. The map of Manhattan on the wall was already being updated by Wonwoo, red ink taking over the blocks that used to belong to ATZ.
Seungcheol needed to handle this— incident. Coordinate with Jeonghan, Wonwoo, and the other families to ensure Sector 17 is not a threat right now. However, they should have a meeting as soon as possible, this is not going to end without a settlement.
Seungcheol is going to prove that he will do whatever he has to do to protect his family and his own empire, but won’t pick a fight just because. This needs to be discussed.
An hour later, and the strategic lines had been drawn, the orders given, meeting date set and the majority of ATZ property will officially belong to Sector 17.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Seungcheol’s exhausted, but most importantly worried about you.
You were wide awake, took a shower and changed into your silk black nightgown, you had already brushed too many times your hair, makeup was long gone. Your red dress and mask were on the chair by the bathroom door. You were still contemplating if you wanted to keep it or burn it.
Seungcheol knocked on your bedroom door almost too quietly.
“Can I come in?” his voice was soft, careful, he wanted to see you but did not want to disturb you.
“Sure,” you turned around to watch Seungcheol carefully step inside.
He walked across the heavy rug, his movements slow and deliberate so he wouldn’t startle you. Cute. He sat down on the edge of the bed, in front of you as you were sitting on the vanity chair. You could see his dark eyes were filled with such a tenderness worry.
“How are you feeling sweetheart?” he murmured softly, his voice dropping into that gentle, intimate tone he only used when the two of you were completely alone.
You turned away, your eyes were now fixed on the fire, “well, to be honest I thought I’d feel different,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “I mean I am fucking glad this is over, but I just thought I’d feel lighter at once”
Seungcheol wondered if you were actually ready for this in the first place. He slid closer, a warm hand carefully coming to rest over your own. It was bringing the comfort you needed, to be honest you needed more.
“This weight won’t go away all at once, sweetheart,” he said softly, his thumb tracing the back of your hand making you feel comforted, amongst other things. “But you don’t have to carry it by yourself anymore. I’m right here. I will always be here, whether you choose me or not.”
You finally lifted your head, your dark eyes locking onto his own. You did feel relieved now, for once you felt protected, and slowly the heavy weight you were feeling was lifting off your shoulders.
“Choose you or not” You repeated softly, a small smile forming on your lips, “I appreciate you’re letting me decide. But we both know the answer already.”
“Maybe, but I still don’t want to pressure you. I know I messed up”
“Mmm, you did,” you stood up to get closer to him, he tried to get up but you stopped him by sitting on his lap. You were tired, but there was something else already that made your skin burn. “But you’re here now, and you don’t plan on leaving me, right?”
“No, I won’t make that mistake again.” He replied without hesitation. He was trying so hard to control himself, but the fact that you were on your nightgown, on his lap, looking like a sin, was torture.
The air in the room shifted instantly, a little suffocating but in a good way.
You looked at his sharp jaw, the dark intensity of his gaze, the broad shoulders beneath his silk shirt that was already wrinkled and unbuttoned revealing a part of his chest, and you were long gone. You were sitting on his lap, the tough mafia leader was now just there looking at you like you were his entire world.
The small resentment you had been holding had already faded. The pride that told you to make him fight for you, long gone now. It was now replaced by a desperate, mutual longing that had been building for far too long.
“Cheol,” you breathed, your voice a soft almost purr. “I want you, all of you.”
Seungcheol is losing all restraint. He wanted to wait, to let you rest, but sitting on his lap, in this nightgown was driving him crazy, that’s why his large hands couldn’t stop as he slowly caressed your waist and almost instantly pulling your body closer against his chest, he looked up at your eyes then your lips and he let out a small grunt
“I’m all yours sweetheart,” seungcheol’s right hand was now on your cheek going to the back of your neck, ready to pull your face closer to him but still holding back. “But, you need to rest. I—”
“Seungcheol,” you whispered as one hand was griping tightly his shirt while the other was already slowly going up to his hair, stroking it admiring the softness and how it feels, pulling it tightly enough to make him let out a small grunt. “I want you to fuck me. Now.”
His restraint completely broke at your words, and he crashed his lips to yours with a passionate, fierce force that left you completely breathless. Wanting more, needing more of him. The way he tasted, his soft lips fiercely kissing you, making your head spin and taking your breath away.
Seungcheol wanted to wait, wanted to court you, leave aside his desire for you, his longing and ignore the way his body was calling for you wanting more.
Seungcheol wanted to be a gentleman. You, on the other hand, wanted him to take everything he already had claimed as his from the moment he met you. The version of him as Sector17’s boss had made you go feral.
You didn’t have any other love interest, not when he left and not even before him. Reacting so quickly to his voice, his smell, his eyes, his lips. Just like you were to him, he was going to be the death of you. The desire you felt for him was overwhelming.
Both of you were frantic now, possessed by this desperate need to remove every piece of cloth between you. He lifted you so effortlessly to place you properly on the bed, without missing a beat he grabbed the fabric of your nightgown, his large fingers finding the lace strings and with sharp tug, he pulled it off you now leaving you exposed to him, his eyes were on you, admiring your uncovered body, soft skin tempting to be touched, marked, worshiped. Seungcheol paused for a second, his breath hitching as he was taking in the sight of you—flushed and panting. So needy, he wanted to take his time with you, softly touch every inch of you, worship you.
Oh, but you were like a drug, just for him and you were as eager as he was.
Without breaking eye contact, he reached up and tore his white shirt, ripping the buttons open until the fabric fell away somewhere on the floor. His broad shoulders and chest all the way down were a sight to see, the dark ink of the tattoos stretching across his shoulders making him look unreal, his defined chest and abs made you reach up, touch his hot skin, tracing every muscle as you were biting your lips.
This tension was a little too much, feeling his skin, seeing him like that, with those dark eyes that, just like you, were lusting and admiring.
Seungcheol was mesmerized, you were laying in bed completely bare. You looked beautiful to him, pure and glowing.
You were incredibly needy to touch him more, he looked unreal, and just by looking at him you could feel aroused and so damn wet.
The moment he pressed his bare skin against yours you felt a jolt of electricity run through your body, your hands instantly running from his chest to his back, your nails digging into the skin as he pressed his full, delicious weight down on you. The way he felt, the way he smelled it was just addictive.
This is what you were craving. The heat, the way his soft bare skin was against yours, fuck you needed this, you needed more of him.
“Mmm, I love that you’re taking your time,” you moaned as Seungcheol kissed your neck suddenly sucking on your skin definitely leaving a mark. “But I want more, need m-more. Y-yes.”
Tightening your grip on his shoulders as he slid his hand down your stomach, his rough, calloused palm feeling every inch of your skin sending a jolt of pure heat straight to your core.
His fingers slipped through the waistband of your lace panties, sliding lower finally feeling how soaking wet you already were. You choked on a gasp, your hips instinctively arching up against his touch, just this was making you feel so good.
“Look at you,” Seungcheol whispered, his voice dangerously low as his fingers slid down your wet core, painfully slow but so good you were crying out his name, your eyes rolling back. “So wet for me. I have to taste you.” His voice deeper than ever, like a man starved
“Cheol,” you moaned throwing your head against the pillows as the way he was touching you pushed you closer and closer to the edge already. You hooked your legs tighter on his hips, practically begging for more. “As tempting as that sound, mmm, you can eat me out next time. I need your dick inside me. Now.”
“So eager, sweetheart.” He said with a dark chuckle as he pulled back his fingers and licked them clean, “and so sweet. I am going to eat this pussy soon baby.”
He stripped the last piece of your underwear away, his own following until he was completely naked above you looking at you with the same hunger. He positioned himself again between your thighs, his thick length pressing directly against you, a delicious warmth.
Feeling the size of him, combined with the absolute desire in his gaze, made your heart start beating like crazy and your breath hitch. It was overwhelming but a pleasure you’d be addicted to, a pleasure only he can give.
He didn’t wait. He didn’t even ask. Shifting his grip to secure your hips firmly against the mattress, Seungcheol drove his hips forward, sliding once, twice his dick through your pussy and then burying his entire length inside you in one deep, firm thrust.
The sudden fullness stretched you slightly painfully for a few seconds causing you to let out a breathless cry from your lips. Your fingers scratched his shoulders with the same intensity, your back arching fully off the bed as you gripped him tightly.
Seungcheol stood still for a couple of seconds, his jaw clenching so hard as he held himself deep inside you, the feeling of your pussy and your body felt too good, he was trying so hard not to lose himself, going feral and cum in ten seconds.
“Fuck, Y/n,” he groaned, his voice deep as he buried his face in your neck taking in your scent. “You feel so good, so tight... so perfect.”
The moment the intense pain turned into a throbbing, hot pleasure, you began to move your hips against him. “Cheol, move oh god, fuck me” your voice breaking. “Faster, Cheol.”
Your words broke whatever control he had, Seungcheol began to move, his pace slow at first and incredibly deep. Every single thrust was a powerful force that rocked the entire bed, his hips slamming against yours. He held your wrists pinned above your head, his fingers locking with yours driving deeper and deeper hitting the right spot causing you to moan desperately for more.
The pleasure was blinding, a sensation that completely consumed you. You were completely at his mercy, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist to take him as deep as possible, your loud, unfiltered moans and the sound of skin against skin echoed filling the room. You watched him right now with nothing but desire, the sweaty neck, the raw intensity in his eyes as he looked down at you, completely obsessed and drunk in you.
“You’re mine,” he repeated, his pace now turning frantic, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, so deep making your eyes roll back in pleasure, he felt your inner walls begin to tighten around him, you were so close already, so tight. “Say it, sweetheart. You are mine.”
“I’m yours,” you moaned louder, “fuck— harder, Cheol” the friction was pushing you over the edge. Your entire body was reacting to his movements
“Cum with me baby,” his pace was unreal, his hips slamming against yours, loudly and incredibly good, “Sweetheart, fuck you’re so tight,” he moaned as he moved his hand to your core rubbing your clit bringing you to the edge and your body was now shaking as you came moaning his name.
The intense, pressure of your orgasm completely broke him. Seungcheol let out a deep, guttural growl, his hips driving into you one last and deep thrust, through your own intense orgasm you could feel him pulsing as he came inside you. The feeling of him so deep inside you sends more pleasure through your whole body.
His strength finally gave out, and he collapsed heavily against you, his chest heaving as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing hitting your skin causing you to feel more sensitive, in the most exquisite way.
Your arms wrapped tightly around his sweaty shoulders, holding him tight against you savoring every inch of him against you. Seungcheol slowly tried to pull away feeling he might be crushing you
“Mmm, stay don’t move,” you moaned and held him tight causing him to groan in pleasure, he was now a little oversensitive but definitely did not want to move either, “I’m sore but this feels good” you moved your hips a little tightening around him.
“Fuck sweetheart, you’re making me hard again” though both of your bodies were already spent, these seconds were already igniting more need, more pleasure and somehow more goddamn energy.
“Oh really? Well, I do want more.” somehow you managed to push him and get on top, not even pulling out. The new movement and position caused a shiver go through your body. “Oh my, so good Cheol, fuck your dick feels damn good.”
“Then let’s get to work baby,” Seungcheol growled holding your hips as you were bouncing on his cock, tits right on his face, your moans and the sound of your pussy slamming on his dick getting louder and wet. You lifted your body, fully seated on his cock rotating your hips, holding back your hair you moaned closing your eyes enjoying the way he felt. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”
Not stopping for a second he started to fuck into you harder, this new position made you feel him even more, the fight for control was overwhelming, you liked having him under you, but having his hands guide you, move you on his cock felt amazing. Another round of him fucking you so good you see stars,
Seungcheol was loving every second not only because how you feel around him, but because each time both of you tried to take control, it was a small battle for it he’d move you or hold you down against his chest as he slammed his hips up into you, or you’d take his hands pin them above his head and bounce yourself on his cock taking him at your own rhythm.
This was a pleasure you needed, you craved him. Now he’s here underneath you fucking the living shit out of you.
“Fuck, Cheol I’m going to cum again” you breathed out between your loud moans, you were now on this addictive high feeling every inch of his dick reaching parts inside of you that brought you closer to the edge every single thrust every single rotation of your hips “So good, your dick is so good.”
“Cum with me baby, come on sweetheart cum on my dick.” He groaned holding you in place slamming his hips up into you, sound of slapping skin louder than ever causing you to feel lightheaded, the pleasure was starting to feel too much, but so good. You didn’t care about over estimulation, his cock was so deep soo good you wanted more.
“make me cum darling, fuck me,” you whispered in his ear, biting his ear lobe you breathed out “fill me up again. Cum in my pussy, make me feel you. Fuck me full, yes!”
Trigger enough, Seungcheol groaned and had gone feral. His dick hitting that spot inside you that had you seeing stars, your moans grew louder if that was even possible. You could feel the way your body was on the edge already, a bigger orgasm than the previous one and you were ready for it
“Cum. Now sweetheart, milk my dick.” Seungcheol growled kneading and giving your ass a hard slap that triggered the most intense orgasm of the night, your body was shaking and you couldn’t control it, your walls tightening around Seungcheol causing him to moan as well making him cum inside of you. His orgasm as strong and intense as your own “Fuck, milk my dick baby, damn it. So tight.”
He was now mumbling praises to your ear, spilling himself once again inside of you, the feeling was incredible, warmth inside your pussy that now you could feel dripping down his dick, Seungcheol was seeing spots from the intense pleasure, he was now on the edge of overstimulation but he didn’t care he kept fucking his cum inside you slowly but deep, both moaning while he keeps kneading your ass with each movement squeezing and slapping it, feeling how it jiggles making you feel so good.
“I feel so fucking full,” you whispered, exhausted but completely satisfied, still slowly rocking your hips “I like it, I might ask for this daily”
“I’ll gladly make your wish come true” Seungcheol moaned, “Mm, this pussy will be the death of me though. So tight so perfect for me.”
“All yours, Cheol.” You breathed out, still on top of him, his dick stayed inside warm and still semi hard, keeping most of his cum inside of you feeling amazing. “I’m all yours.”
“And I’m yours sweetheart.” He kissed your cheek looking up at you with those doe eyes, he was spent, he felt drained in the best way possible.
Seungcheol held you tight as he rolled you to lay down next to him, you whined as he slid out of you making you feel empty, and you could feel his cum start to drip out of your pussy. Seungcheol noticed and he slid his fingers gathering it all and bringing his fingers to your mouth, without hesitation you licked them clean earing a small moan from him.
“You are going to be the death of me sweetheart.” He said looking at the way you sucked his fingers clean, his dick twitched at the sight, but he knew you needed to rest and he needs a break, thought maybe he could keep going. “let’s rest baby.”
You could only hum in response, you were spent, tired and with no strength but deeply satisfied, you were worn out but the pleasure was worth it, your body was still feeling the pleasure but also very sore. An exquisite combination that you’d gladly take more than once.
“Mmm, I want a bath, but I don’t want to move.” You chuckled and looked at Seungcheol with tired doe eyes making him smile back at you “you really wore me out Cheollie.”
“Well, good. You wore me out too baby.” He softly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear “you drive me crazy. In the best way.”
“mmm, I feel dirty but good.” You smiled at him as he leaned down placing a soft kiss to your forehead. “take a bath with me?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” He grinned as he stood up, slightly dizzy he recovered and laughed. “you really did drained me baby.”
“I want more.” You pouted at him as he gently lifted you from the bed and caried you bridal style towards the bathroom. He chuckled and kissed you softly.
“You’ll get what you want sweetheart, but first, let’s clean you up and rest.” You rolled your eyes making him chuckle. “you’re being a spoiled princess.”
“Queen,” you corrected him with a wink, “I might be spoiled, but I am a Queen.”
“My spoiled Queen.”
The warm morning sun was fully illuminating the bedroom, you were tired and sore, somehow this soreness felt good.
Days prior to this madness, you’d wake up a little irritated that the morning sun had directly woke you up too early for your liking, but not this morning.
With a long sight, you shifted now leaning on Seungcheol’s chest, resting your chin on your hands that could feel his beating heart match yours already, beating faster at the sight of him, hair messy thanks to your hands and the pillow, face a little puffy and cheeks already rosy, his plump lips already smiling.
“Morning sweetheart” his deep morning voice already sending a shiver down your spine straight to your core.
“You’re adorable.” You simply said causing him to chuckle as he tucked your hair behind your ear.
“You’re adorable too,” he whispered, he saw the way you were looking at him and then how you simply drifted off. “Something is bothering you. What is it baby?”
You chuckled, of course he’d noticed already. Seungcheol’s hand, had been lazily tracing the line of your spine, his eyes on you carefully reading you.
Before you moved, you’d been thinking about everything that happened the night before, the way everything ended and how you didn’t have to worry about how you could get more information from drunk men. You don’t have to worry about reaching for the derringer on your thigh when you’re out, damn you don’t even have to worry about having to go out to the speakeasy bar anymore.
“A part of me is very glad is all over,” you said softly, “no more hiding, no more risks, no more dealing with stupid sexually constipated men. Gotta be honest though, a part of me is going to miss being Cherry.” Seungcheol chuckled, he could tell that beside the dangers of being her, you enjoyed it.
“You liked being her?”
“It was fun sometimes. Setting the whole purpose aside, I enjoyed being her.” You smiled fondly at the memory, you didn’t use her only with those men to get information. She was a blast on those good quiet days, Miss Cherry would take the girls to the dance floor and have fun with them, flirt playfully with women, tease the small crew. Tease some couples that were having fun, even occasionally playing poker with some of them. She wasn’t only there to be sultry and seduce men till they spilled secrets and worth information for you, she was a way to have fun without feeling too guilty, without feeling the restraint.
Miss Cherry was fun.
“You enjoyed it because you were yourself, you just had a mask on.” he said still tracing random patterns on your bare back.
“I guess, but it is easier to claim it was someone else instead of being real and say Lee y/n did all of that.” You chuckled “I don’t really want to do those things again.”
“It’s okay if you want to use that mask again, have fun at the speakeasy with the girls.” He whispered though his voice now turned more serious “I just don’t—I mean—”
“I am not going to flirt with other men anymore, Cheol. That’s why I plan on letting go of her.” You reassured him, he wanted to let you be free, but he also wanted you all for himself. He was afraid of sounding like he wanted to force something. “I’m yours. Completely. No more masks. Just me, us.”
A profound, breathless relief washed over Seungcheol's face, immediately followed by a clear joy because of what you said. His woman. He cleared his throat, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious as he tried to sit up, adjusting the pillows behind him.
“Y/n, listen,” he started, his voice taking on a formal, serious tone. “I want to do this right. I don’t want to rush things, I want to court you properly. I want to take you out to the finest dinners in the city now, take my time with you and do this the way you deserve. I want to buy you flowers, eat peacefully together and win your heart the way a gentleman should—”
“A gentleman?” You cut him off with an incredulous laugh, rolling your eyes as you sat up too. “Cheol, look at yourself. You have my nail scratches on your back, love bites on your neck, you’re now the most feared mafia boss in New York, and you’re saying you’d try do things like ‘normal’ gentlemen would do.”
“I’m serious,” he groaned, a cute pout forming on his lips as his jaw set stubbornly. “You deserve to be courted, to have romance not just—”
“I don’t want a lame ordinary romance, or being courted” you interrupted with a sudden, intensity that completely captivated him. You leaned in, your fingers gripping his chin. “I don’t want a gentleman anymore, and I certainly don’t want to wait. I want power, I want adrenaline, and I want it now. I am no princess or a pure innocent girl ready for a boy to sweep her off her feet, Choi Seungcheol. If you want me, you take me and make me yours, no questions no waiting. You’re a boss, act like one. Even if I’m ready to piss you off and overrule everything you say. I want challenge, you want it too.”
Seungcheol stared at you for a second, stunned by your words. Then, a slow, utterly smitten smirk spread across his face. Your own boss energy radiating from you made him feel excited. You truly were a brand new woman, you were Miss Cherry completely, and he liked it.
He did want to give you what he couldn’t before he left, but hearing you and looking at you, he knew that you two never were normal.
You are not a woman that looks and acts like an angel and he is not a man only ready to give you jewelry and everything your princess spoiled heart desires.
No, you were a strong woman ready to piss him off and then make him forget what he was angry for with a sultry whisper of his name, a kiss and sex. You were a woman that wanted, craved the adrenaline, he is a man ready to take whatever he wants no matter the cost, he is ready to give whatever you wanted even if he also pisses you off, even when he would try to boss you around too. He was ready to give you everything already. Love, money, adrenaline and power.
It’s true, you two were not the same as you were two years ago.
“So, you want now?” his voice dropping into a dark, playful grumble. “You want me to take you”
“Seungcheol—” before you could even say something else, he stood up abruptly and with a burst of cheeky wicked energy, he grabbed the silk bedsheet, wrapping it securely around your bare body he effortlessly scooped you up into his massive arms, throwing you over his shoulder effortlessly. You shrieked in surprise as he slapped your ass.
“Cheol! Put me down! What the fuck are you doing?” you laughed, your fists hitting his bare lower back.
“You said you wanted me to take you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, marching right out of the bedroom in nothing but his dark cotton boxers. He carried you down the grand marble staircase, completely ignoring your protests and the imminent possibility of someone running into both of you. He passed the main foyer, down the quiet corridor, and kicked open the heavy doors of his dark office.
The room was dark and took time to adjust to the barely iluminated room. He walked to his massive desk, placing you softly there, you took the sheet and covered more of your chest as he stepped back, breathing slightly hard, cheeks flushed and a wicked smile still plastered on his face.
You sat there wrapped on the white silk sheets, your hair a wild, beautiful mess, staring at him in disbelief and curiosity. Trying to ignore the way it kinda turned you on the way he picked you up, manhandling you all the way to his office. You made a note to put those arms and strength to good use soon.
“You are completely insane.”
“Probably,” Seungcheol agreed. He kissed your cheek before he walked over to the heavy iron safe in the corner of the room, spun the dial with ease, and reached into it looking for something.
“You do have a pretty ass, can I bite it?” you spoke outloud as you tilted your head while checking him out. His broad back, every muscle well defined, the way his ass looked from there was really tempting to have a bite.
When he turned back around, he looked at you with wide eyes before laughing at your comment that had you blushing already. “Don’t look at me like that! You have a pretty ass, it is bigger than mine!”
“I doubt that sweetheart.” Seungcheol chuckled “And no, you can’t bite my ass.” He smiled at the way you now clearly pouted. The simple idea of you biting his ass was exciting a little. He had a very well defined, round and very squishy ass. Of course you wanted to bite it.
“You can’t bite my ass” you mocked him rolling your eyes, as you were ready to badmouth him more, you noticed he was holding a small, red velvet box that looked entirely out of place in this conversation, keep in mind, he had that velvet box on his hands while half-naked.
His expression now shifted from playful to something incredibly serious, raw and deeply emotional. You could feel it yourself.
There he was, in nothing but his underwear, messy hair and marks that hinted the passionate night he had with you. The terrifying boss of Sector 17 now dropped on one knee before you.
“I’ve had this ring for almost three years, Y/n,” he said, his voice suddenly thick, and a little shaky. He opened the box, revealing a stunning, flawless cut diamond that caught the dim light of the office making it shine beautifully.
“I bought it before everything went to hell. Every single day that I spent with you I realized how wonderful you are, I knew I wanted you. Then, everything changed and I spent every night beating myself up for leaving like that, I wanted to come back to you and take you with me, but you’d be in danger because of me. Then this shit happened and when those fuckers took you, I was terrified because I didn’t know if I’d see you again, if I’d ever get the chance to give this you. To spend my life with you.”
Your breath hitched, the playful sarcasm instantly dying in your throat as you looked at the ring, and then at the fierce loving devotion in his eyes.
“This is a mess, I am a mess.” Seungcheol admitted, letting out a soft laugh as he gestured to his lack of clothes and your wrapped sheets. “I know this isn’t the Plaza or some fancy restaurant, I’m in my boxers and you’re wrapped in these sheets completely naked underneath. But I just know you are the woman I want in my life, next to me. Be mine, Y/n. Run this city with me. Marry me.”
Tears formed in your eyes. It was messy, odd and just out of traditional way of proposing. You struggled with the sheets until you finally could free your hands to reach out and hold his face making him stand up. “Fuck, Yes.” you whispered, a huge smile spreading across your face. The most genuine, warm and full of love smile you saw him wear. “Yes, you idiot! Fuck, of course yes!”
Seungcheol let out a loud victorious laugh as he took your hand and gently, carefully slid the heavy beautiful diamond ring in your finger before he cupped your face and crashed his lips fiercely against yours, then his hands tangling in the sheets trying to find your waist and pull you close. Claiming you here was rather tempting, bending you over the desk—
THUMP!
The heavy mahogany doors flew open, bouncing violently against the wall.
“Finally you woke up! I thought I heard you. Boss, we have an interesting update from the north side—the chief of police just—”
Chan froze dead in his tracks as he looked up from the papers on his hands. The words died completely in his throat.
He stood paralyzed in the doorway, his eyes widening once he took in what was in front of him.
His gaze flicked from his massive built Boss standing in nothing but his boxers, and then at you, tangled in a nest of bedsheets clearly naked on the mahogany table, your hand resting on Seungcheol’s shoulder but the massive diamond on your finger clearly visible.
The sight registered shock on Chan’s face in real-time. Then, just as fast, his skin turned a bright shade of red. The weight of the scene was now too heavy
“Oh my god,” Chan’s voice cracking into a high-pitched, horrified tone. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! I am so, so sorry! I did not see anything!” he was now panic, trying to hold the folders but also cover his eyes.
“Lee Chan! Get the fuck out!” Seungcheol growled, his voice deep with annoyance as he instinctively stepped closer to you to block Chan’s view.
“Too much skin, perverts! Oh my god! You horny freaks!” Chan shouted, frantically spinning around on his heel to flee but also debating where to leave the folder with information. He was ready to leave, “Can’t believe—” But in his absolute panic rant, he completely misjudged the distance of the doorway.
Chan’s forehead smashed directly into the heavy doorframe with a sickening, hollow thud. He let out a pathetic, strangled groan, and you let out a loud laugh. Chan stumbled backwards, he then tripped over his own feet and clumsily stood back up and left mumbling something about pervert couple.
The heavy silence returned to the office once the doors closed again making you look back at Seungcheol. Both of you just stared at the empty doorway. Then, you burst out into a loud laugh, griping the sheets tightly, the absurd moment made you laugh too much.
Seungcheol held it in for a fraction of a second before he threw his head back joining you. The laughter slowly calmed down, he now rested his forehead against yours, both of you still giggling with amusement.
“I think we traumatized the kid.” You chuckled as you took his hand with yours.
“He’s not a kid, he’s done worse and he’s going to live.” Seungcheol smirked at you, those cute dimples fully on display still again, making your beating heart more erratic.
“Ah, just to let you know. I will marry you, but I will not stay behind. I’m having my own seat at that table, do you understand? I don’t want to be in a mansion doing nothing.”
“Figured, you’re so bossy and stubborn you know that right?” he chuckled as he pulled you close to him “I’ll think about it.”
“Think about it” you scoffed as you pulled back from him “I’ll think about marrying you then”
“Why do I have a feeling that you’ll be a pain in my ass?” Seungcheol chuckled as the pout in your face turned into a very annoyed look “I’m kidding sweetheart. You got your chair right next to mine the moment I saw you walk out of that private room unharmed, rolling your eyes right after killing someone.”
“My endeavors were worth it then.” You kissed his right cheek, “do I have to sit next to you—” kiss his left cheek “or can I sit on your lap? Or—” you looked at him right into those darkening eyes and now with that characteristic sultry whisper you leaned closer, lips barely touching, hand trailing lower from his chest to his abs, followind the happy trail until you reached his underwear “better yet, on your cock?”
With serious expression he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, he spoke truthfully and determined “Lee Y/n, I want you to be my wife, you will have a seat next to me on that table, deal with this world with me like you want. Like I want.” His voice was low, that tone did something to you, his eyes then turned darker, his demeanor changed in a second as he pulled the sheets down exposing your front to him forcefully, your bare breasts in all their glory, nipples already hard, you were already getting the sheets wet from his proximity and the way he looked at you, now his voice was a low purr against your neck “but right now, you will be sitting here like a good girl, while I eat this pussy until you soak my face, then you’ll have permission to sit in my cock so I can fill you up sweetheart.”
“Oh, tempting and so kind of you baby. If you mean it, then get down to it Cheol,” you moaned, the anticipation already burning and making you impatient “show me how much you want this pussy.”
“I fucking love you y/n” and without any warning he opened your legs and kneeled down to finally have a taste of your pussy. And just like that, he was pussy drunk you tasted divine, so sweet.
“I love you Cheol—Oh fuck! Right there, yes!”
The future of Sector 17 is going to be incredibly messy it will be bloody, chaotic and. It might have started in a crazy way, but this was the ending you wanted, well kind of.
You succeeded on getting justice for your father, shooting a bullet to the killer’s head and bringing the so called family down, you made him feel the weight of everything he’s done. All that with a pretty velvet, red dress, a mask and a sweet voice.
It won’t be easy, dealing with the consequences of your own vendetta. Sector17 took down many of their business, slapped a few fellas. All because they messed up with you and with Seungcheol’s patience. You were ready to face it though, and you were not going to be alone this time.
after going on a blind date with false pretenses with the ceo of your company, things take a turn when he asks you to marry him to keep himself from ending up in an arranged marriage.
⟢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, smut, fake dating, angst
⟢ 𝐚𝐮(𝐬): business proposal, nonidol
⟢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 13.7k
⟢ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cussing, lying, drinking, lots of office gossip, Cheol has daddy issues, people think mc is a gold digger, insecurities and body issues.
⟢ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, they both are needy, lots of making out, big dick Seungcheol, oral (fem rec), size kink, creampie, cum eating, multiple orgasms, fingering, hair pulling body worship, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, Seungcheol talks mc through it. nicknames: darling, baby, good girl (hers) baby, cheol (his)
⟢ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ minors do not interact
⟢ 𝐚𝐧: This fic is for the SVTFLIX collab hosted by @100vern . It’s loosely based on the k-drama business proposal. Thank you @aeristudios for listening to me ramble about this story and thank you @jakedustry for beta reading.
🎧: snooze | sza | lightening - charli xcx | into you - ariana grande | bmf - sza
Choi Seungcheol prodigal son in the heir to the Choi Corporation. Being the only child of an extremely wealthy and successful businessman has left Seungcheol with immense pressure. His whole life has been laid out for him. The moment he graduated high school, he was sent to a prestige college with the intention of immediately stepping into the family business. The day after graduation, he started working for his family’s company and never looked back.
One thing about being the heir to the company is that his parents are obsessed with the idea of him settling down and giving them at least one grandchild. Seungcheol is so wrapped up in work, he can't even imagine dating. Let alone getting married and staring a family.
These days his weeks consist of going on dates with socialites and heiress that his mother believes would make a great wife.
Tonight is no different. He finds himself in an expensive restaurant with a pretty woman sitting across from him. Except this time, the woman across from him isn't someone who comes from a rich family, it's you. You don't come from money, nor do you have much to be honest. You work for Seungcheol's company as Jeonghan's assistant. The funny things is Seungcheol knows your name, and definitely knows you're not Angel, the girl he's supposed to be on a date with.
THE PRINCE AND THE LIAR
You've been friends with Angel since you were teenagers. Growing up, your family made enough to be considered middle class. As a teen you were so smart you were able to get a full ride scholarship to a fancy private school. While in school, you became best friends with Angel, the heirest to a luxary cosmetics company. Angel has always been an incredible friend to you. She's always been someone who pushes you to get out of your comfort zone and to try new things.
You were surprised when you were hanging out in her fancy high rise apartment and she mentioned going on a date with the CEO of Choi Corporation. You weren't sure why her mother and his mother were trying to set her up with your boss.
"You're going on a date with my boss?" You ask, sitting on the plush chair that sits in the middle of her large closet.
"I don't want to go on a date with your hot boss. I was planning to go out with Soonyoung tonight."
"Your mom still doesn't know about Soonyoung?" Even if Angel doesn't want to admit it, her and Soonyoung have something going on that's more then just sex. Soonyoung works at a dance studio, and doesn't live up to Angel's mother's high expectations.
"Why don't you cancel on Seungcheol?"
"My mother would kill me if I did."
"I see."
Angel holds us a beautiful pink silk dress. She keeps glancing at the dress, and back at you. "This would look good on you."
"Yeah it's also not in my tax bracket." You've been shopping with Angel enough to know you couldn't afford anything in this closet.
"I have an idea!" She shouts.
"What?"
Her eyes go wide, and she gives you the biggest smile. "You're going to go on the date with Seungcheol." That's not what you thought she was going to say.
"What?"
"He's expecting you."
"He's never met me and doesn't know how I look. Just pretend to be me."
"I work for him."
"Like you said before. He doesn't know you exist. You work on a different floor for Jeonghan."
"Angel, this isn't a good idea."
"Come on, it's one blind date. You don't have to go on another one. Just go out with him once and pretend to be me."
"Angel—"
"Babe, just put the pretty pink dress on and go."
-
The moment you sat down, Seungcheol recognized you. He knew immediately you weren't Angel. He's well aware you're Jeonghan's pretty assistant. Instead of telling you he knows who you are, he decides to let this play out. It's not like he actually wanted to go on a date with Angel.
From the beginning he can tell that you're shy. He makes small talk with you, and actively goes out of his way to avoid talking about anything related to the real Angel.
He does want to tease you a little and see if you will own up to the lie. "Angel is a pretty name." He says before taking a sip of his wine.
"Thank you."
"How did your parents pick that name?"
"Grandmother named me." That isn't a lie. Angel was actually named by her grandmother.
The dinner is nice, an even though you're pretending to be someone else, Seungcheol can't help but find you interesting. He wishes he could ask you out again instead of the woman you're pretending to be.
The night ends with Seungcheol walking you to the car Angel ordered for you. He takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on top.
"It was nice getting to meet you." He says.
"This was nice. I feel like I haven't gone out on a date this night in a really long time." You haven't gone on a date in years, and even though this is under false pretenses, this was nice.
"Maybe we could do this again."
He fishes his phone out of the pocket of his dress pants. "Could I have your number please?"
Taking his phone, you hesitantly put in your contact info. You hate that you have to write your name as Angel, but you have no choice.
The whole car ride back to Angel's place you can't help but feel guilty that you enjoyed your night out with him. You feel bad you had to lie to him. Seungcheol seems like a great guy, and doesn’t deserve that.
AN UNEXPECTED CONTRACT
Since your blind date that took place three months ago, you've actively gone out of your way to avoid Seungcheol at work. That's been a little difficult occasionally due to the fact that your boss Jeonghan is best friends with the CEO of the company. Whenever you knew Seungcheol was on the floor looking for Jeonghan, you've made yourself scarce.
You don't know that the CEO is a smart man and is well aware you're avoiding him. He's wanted to text you too many times to count, but he can tell by the way you're avoiding him that you won't respond.
Seungcheol day started with his father meeting him in his office. His father is sitting in his chair at his desk.
"Good morning father." Seungcheol says before sitting his bag down on his desk.
"Son, I have important things to discuss with you."
Seungcheol lets out a heavy sigh before sitting down across from him. He just wants this conversation over with quickly.
"Your mother and I have been discussing things and it's clear you have no intention of settling down. We've decided to set you up in an arranged marriage." The room suddenly feels suffocatingly small. The word 'arranged marriage' keeps playing in mind on repeat.
"What?"
"Your mother has a perfect woman to be your wife. Lena comes from the Park family that owns the Park Finacal Banks." Seungcheol knows exactly who he is talking about. The idea of being thrown into an arranged marriage with a stuck up narcissistic heiress makes him want to throw up.
All of Seungcheol's logical thoughts are slipping out of his brain at a rapid pace. "I'm seeing someone!" He shouts.
"You are?"
"Yes. We were keeping things private."
"Who is she?"
"She works for our company. She's Jeonghan assistant."
"She's poor?" His father sounds extremely confused.
"What she makes doesn't matter to me. The only thing that matters is the fact we're in love."
His father leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "How long have you been seeing her?"
"Three months."
"You either marry her, or the Park's daughter."
"It's too soon for us to get married."
"If she rejects your proposal, you'll marry Lena." His father stands up.
Seungcheol feels stuck in his place. His father walks out of his office as Seungcheol tries to wrap his brain around what just happened.
The door slams shut and Seungcheol instantly snaps out of it. He stands up quickly and rushes out of his office. His assistant Seungkwan stands up.
"Seungcheol, is everything okay?"
"I got to go. Move my meeting to tomorrow. Tell them I'm dealing with an emergency."
Seungcheol walks to the elevator in a rush. The doors open and quickly walks in. His office is on the seventeenth floor. He presses the sixteenth floor the one you and Jeonghan work on. He needs to get to you before you can hide from him. The doors open and he rushes to your desk, outside of Jeonghan office.
Your eyes go wide at the sight of him rushing to you. "I need to talk to you, please don't run and hide."
"Okay." You say softly.
He barges into Jeonghan's office. Jeonghan looks up from his computer very confused. "I'm taking your assistant for the day. Tell Joshua to find someone to fill in for her."
"What the fuck is happening?" Jeonghan is extremely confused.
"I'm going to propose to your assistant and hope that she says yes."
"That doesn't explain anything, Cheol. I've never seen you speak to her."
Seungcheol let's out a heavy sigh. "Come to my house after eight and I'll explain everything. Just ask Joshua to get you a second assistant."
Seungcheol walks out of Jeonghan office and sees you still sitting at your desk, looking extremely nervous.
"You're not fired or anything, so don't worry about that. Just grab your purse and anything you bring with you everyday. We're not coming back to office today."
Silently you stand up and grab your purse. "Um, sir, I can't really afford to miss work."
"You'll be paid for today, don't worry."
With your purse in hand you follow Seungcheol to the elevator. Silently, you stand there waiting for the doors to open. The elevator dings and you both step inside.
Seungcheol his the underground level for the parking garage. You stand there not sure what you should say to him.
"I'm aware you're not Angel, just so you know."
Your heart instantly drops. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine. I'm not mad about it."
"Angel is seeing someone else her parents don't know about. Did you know all along I wasn't Angel?"
"Yeah, I have a good memory, and recognized you immediately."
The elevator dings and the doors open. You both step out into the parking garage.
"Did you drive here?" He asks.
"No, I took the train. I don't own a car."
"Okay, follow me to my car." He starts walking toward his CEO parking spot.
"Sir, where are we going?"
"To lunch and to discuss a contract."
You follow him to his expense all black Maserati. He stands on the passenger side and opens the door. Sliding into a sport car that looks too expensive to touch, you're extremely confused by everything that's happening.
Seungcheol gets into the drivers seat silently as he starts the car. He turns on the radio to help cut the awkward silence. The drive to the restaurant isn't too long. He pulls up to an expensive looking hotel. He hands the keys to the valet before he walks around and quickly opens your door.
"Come on." He says.
You follow behind him with your heels clacking against the expensive marble flooring.
Workers bow their heads at Seungcheol as he heads towards the elevator. He presses the button and the doors slide open. Silently, you stand next to him. You have zero clue why he dragged you out of work and brought you here.
He presses the button to the seventeenth floor. He checks his watch and glances over at you. The silence between you is deafening.
The doors slide open and he hold his hand out, guesturing for you to go first.
He walks up an expensive looking restaurant. The host immediately lights up. "Mr. Choi." The host bows his head.
"Two please."
Immediately you're led off through the expensive restaurant. You've seen lunches here booked on Jeonghan schedule. You're led over to a plush booth that overlooks the city.
The waitress immediately comes over and places two glasses of wine in front of you. You can't even pick up the menu, you just stare at Seungcheol.
"I'm aware your name isn't Angel."
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine. I recognized you the moment you sat down."
He doesn't say anything else. He just opens the menu. "Do you know what you would like to eat?"
"I'm not hungry." You appetite disappeared as you were pulled away from work.
"Please, order something." He folds the menu placing it down in front of him.
The waitress comes back for the order and Seungcheol orders himself the salmon. The waitress turns to you, and you just blankly stare at the man across from you.
"My date will take the lemon chicken." He says, handing over the menu.
The silence between you is incredibly loud. Seungcheol's eyes are fixated on you. Grabbing the glass of wine he takes a big gulp. He doesn't even bother slowly sipping on it.
"Mr. Choi, what is this about?" You finally break the silence.
"You didn't call me Mr. Choi on our date. Please call me Seungcheol or Cheol." He raises his brow before taking another drink of wine.
"That date was a mistake on my part." If you could go back in time you would never let Angel convince you to go out.
His brows furrow together. "A mistake?"
"Yes, a mistake. I lied to you, and that's not fair to you."
"I don't care that you lied to me."
It's your turn to now furrow your brows. "You don't?"
"No I don't care."
"Oh." You thought for sure he was mad about your lies.
"I'm here because I have a business proposal for you." He takes a deep breath. "My father informed me today, that he plans on setting me up into an arranged marriage."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Well you see, I told him I can't marry someone else, because I'm seeing someone and I'm very serious about them." You have no clue who he could possibly be talking about.
"Yeah?" You ask.
"I told him I'm dating you, Jeonghan's assistant." His words if you like an ice cold bucket of water. Your stomach drops and you're rendered speechless. "I know it's crazy. See, here's the thing, my father says I either propose to you, and marry you or I'm marrying Lena from the Park Bank family." You know exactly who he's talking about, Angel has mentioned her on multiple occasions. According to your best friend Lena is a narcissistic, social climber.
You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Seungcheol leans back in his chair, and lets out a sigh.
"What are you asking of me?" You finally find the right words to say.
"I'm asking you to be my fiancée. We don't have to get married right away or anything. But I need you to play the role of my fiancée until my parents push hard enough for us to get married. Maybe we can make it a long engagement and I'll figure out an exit plan." He's absolutely insane. Your eyes are wide, and all you can do is blink at him. You can't process the fact, that he basically just proposed to you.
Reaching out, you grab your glass of wine, and without another thought, start chugging the rich liquid.
"I know this is crazy."
You set the empty glass on the table. "Am I being punished for lying to you?"
"No, not at all. I just thought this could be beneficial to both of us." He shakes his head.
"Beneficial?"
"Yes, you'll move into my penthouse, and I'll take care of you."
"To sleep with you? I know I lied, but I'm not sleeping with you and playing house with you."
He puts his hands up. "Woo, I'm not asking you to have sex with me. I'll set up the guest room just for you. You'll have your own space, and we can be roommates basically."
"What about my job?" You're pretty sure being engaged to the ceo is against hr policies.
"I'm technically your boss, but Jeonghan is in charge of you. You can continue working for him or I'll get you another position. Or you can be stay at home fiancée. I want to fully support you. If you're going to help me with this, it's the least I can do." Is he offering to be your sugar daddy?
"As a sugar daddy?" You blurt out.
"No, as your fiancé, I would be your providor."
The waitress comes over intrupting this absolutely insane conversation. She pours more wine into each of your glasses. You both go quiet for a moment.
"If I agree to this, what are the rules?" You've struggled to get by off and on through our your life. You realize that this business proposal could be a blessing, you can live comfortably and not worry about money.
"I haven't thought that far ahead. I think the one thing that needs to be clear is, we can't see other people. And when we're in public, we have to act like we're a couple. The only person who can know we're not together is Jeonghan."
"I need to have someone I can talk to about this. I need to tell Angel. She won't tell anyone. She has her own secrets she keeps hid away, and won't share ours." Seungcheol wants to laugh at the fact that of all people you bring up the girl that started this whole mess for you.
"Okay. I'll get you a proper engagement ring today. I want to have you moved in by the end of the week."
The waitress walks over and sets your food down in front of you.
"By the way, you're going to have to be comfortable sharing kisses and holding my hand in public." The idea of sharing public affection with Seungcheol doesn't sound terrible.
He reaches out, holding his hand over the table. "Darling, do we have a deal?" Reaching out your grab his hand and shake it.
"I accept your business proposal."
THE HOTTEST NEW COUPLE
Everything has felt like a whirlwind. Seungcheol was true to his word, he got you a beautiful engagement ring, and three days after your agreement, you had moved out of your studio apartment into his huge penthouse.
With the help of Seungkwan, he made sure your bedroom was perfect. The guestroom that is now your room is absolutely beautiful, and it even has its own ensuite bathroom with a beautiful claw foot tub, and a shower that can comfortably have four people in it. Seungcheol stocked it, with all the products you use. He wasn't lying when he said he would take care of you. He brought over all your clothes, and even bought you a ton of new stuff to wear.
You get to work two days before it's all over the news that you and Seungcheol are engaged. As soon as everyone knows, things instantly change.
Walking into work with Seungcheol, you can feel everyone's eyes trained on you. The two front desk girls who are the biggest gossips intentally watch. Seungcheol shoots them both a smile before lacing his fingers with yours.
The two girls immediately leans in and clearly start whispering to each other.
Looking down while you walk, you try your hardest to ignore all the staring.
The doors to the elevator slide open, and Seungcheol leads you inside. He doesn't release your hand as he presses the button to the floor you work on.
There is a long beat of silence. "The people are going to talk about our relationship, but I just need you to ignore it."
"Okay." You aren't exactly sure how you can just ignore people whispering about you.
"It should calm down shortly."
The elevator stops on your floor and Seungcheol instantly can tell you're stressed. He releases your hand. "Hey, everything will be okay."
"Okay." You don't know if your saying that for him, or yourself.
The doors open and you step out. Seungcheol stays back and gives you a smile before the doors close.
Walking through the office, you can feel too many eyes on you. You head straight for Jeonghan’s office. You give his closed door a knock before stepping inside. You've never been happier that Jeonghan gets to work early.
Jeonghan is sitting at his desk leaning back sipping a coffee. "You know Joshua got me a second assistant, you don't have to rush in here bright and early now."
"I'm kinda freaking out and need a moment away from all of the gossips that work for this company." Jeonghan may be your boss, but you have grown to consider him your friend.
"Oh, I see news of your engagement hit the media."
You sit down in the chair in front of his desk. "I'm not used to this. Seungcheol is used to this, the media has always loved him. Before all of this no one knew who I was."
"The media circus will calm down soon. You guys will be the hot gossip for maybe a week."
You hate being the center of attention and this is making you feel uncomfortable. "I don't like that I know that everyone in the this office is talking about me."
"Don't let them bother you." Jeonghan sits his iced latte on the table.
"It's hard not to."
"Mina is working at her desk outside. Why don't your grab your laptop and work in my office for now?" Mina is Jeonghan second assistant Seungcheol requested he got.
"Don't you need privacy?"
"No."
"What about meetings?"
"There is a conference room on this floor and the big one on floor ten." Jeonghan has clearly thought about this.
"Okay."
Things from this day shifted. Everyone officially knows about your engagement. Jeonghan has gone out of his way to protect you from people talking about. He may be your boss, but through this he's become one of your closest friends.
Living in Seungcheol's penthouse feels strange. His large penthouse doesn't feel like home. You just feel like a guest, living here for now.
It's been a long day at work, since Seungcheol has to stay over for a meeting Jeonghan offers to drop you off.
Arriving at your new home, you slip off your heels and head towards your room. Looking through your drawers, you find some lounge wear to change into. After a long day at work, a scorching hot shower sounds amazing.
Walking into the bathroom you strip away your clothes. Stepping into the shower, you try to turn your brain off. This whole engagement with Seungcheol is still a lot to process.
Standing under the hot water, you try your hardest to turn off your brain, but you can't. You just keep thinking about the way everyone now looks at you.
There is this little voice inside your head that says people probably just think you're a gold digger.
Shaking your head, you try and push away the nasty thoughts. Grabbing your favorite shampoo, you start washing your hair.
Getting out of the shower you get dressed in the comfy clothes you picked out. Your bare feed pad across the hardwood floor as you make your way to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you look for the ingredients to make something to eat. Cooking has always been one thing you like to do to relax.
Opening the drawer you find two steaks. You hestiate to pick them up. It feels weird to use things without asking for permission, but Seungcheol has told you a few time, that anything in the house is yours.
Pulling the steaks from the fridge you look for some veggies that would go good with them.
Grabbing your phone, you turn on some music. You sing along to each song as you prep your dinner. Maybe if Seungcheol doesn't get home super late, he can enjoy a warm meal for dinner.
You get lost in the music, and cooking. You plate the steak giving it time to rest. Walking over to the wine friend in the counter, you find a bottle of wine. You stare a the label for a moment, hoping and praying you didn't pick an insanely expensive bottle. Reaching into the cupboard you grab a glass.
You pour the deep cherry colored wine into the glass. The merlot tastes devine.
Sitting at the table by yourself you enjoy your second glass of wine. You're taking your time eating, hoping Seungcheol will be home soon. You know you can just ask him when he'll be home, but for some reason that feels inappropriate to you.
Scrolling through your phone as you slowly eat, you can't help but smile as the front door opens. A very exhausted looking Seungcheol walks in.
He looks up at the table and finds you giving him a gentle smile.
"Hi." He awkwardly waves.
"I made dinner for you."
You stand up quickly, and rush towards the kitchen. Seungcheol takes his time taking off his bag, and walks towards the dining area. Walking back into the dining area you place down the plate and bring another glass for wine.
"This looks amazing." Seungcheol is learning that you love cooking.
"Thank you. Sorry if you were saving these steaks."
He takes a seat across from where you were sitting. "Anything is this house is yours." He's told you this so many times. It's just extremely hard to wrap your mind around that.
Reaching out he grabs the bottle of wine, and pours himself a glass. Having dinner with him like this feels very domestic. It feels almost a little too real.
You eat in silence for a few minutes before he speaks again. "Sorry I had to stay so late at work. I'm trying really hard not to be as much of a workaholic." Anyone who knows him knows what a hard worker he is. He's always been known for speanding countless late night hours at the office. You've been there a handful of times with Jeonghan working late with him.
"My father called."
"What did he say?" You know that Seungcheol and his father's relationship can't be kind of difficult at times.
"He saw the news of our engagement, and has requested for us to join them for dinner one night." The idea of having dinner with Seungcheol's family is quite terrifying. You're sure they're nice people but they're extremely rich and live an very different life style then the one you're used to.
You knit your brows together, unsure of how to respond.
"I told them it can't be anytime soon, that we're very busy."
"Oh."
"We can avoid that dinner for a while. I have to travel quite a bit for work soon, and you won't be meeting them without me."
"Okay." Grabbing the glass of wine, you take another big drink.
"Hey." He reaches out, taking your hand. "I know this isn't a normal engagement, but just know that we're a team. I have your back, when you agreed to help me that meant we became partners." You still barely know him, but you can't help but feel as if you're catching feelings for him. Seungcheol is truly the ultimate man. It would be nearly impossible not to have a crush on him.
OH HES A GENTLEMAN
The media is having a hay day with the fact one of the cities most eligible bachelors is now taken. Everyone one online is talking about your "secret relationship." Too many threads online are speculating about how long you have been together.
Everyday you go into work holding Seungcheol's hand, and every afternoon you sit in his office eating lunch. Sometimes it's just the two of you, and occasionally Jeonghan will join.
He finds it quite humorous, watching the two of you play the role of the happily engaged couple.
You've be technically engaged for three weeks, and outside of work you haven't done anything together other then relax at home. You've had a handful of movie night, the select times Seungcheol is working from home on something.
Today, he came home from a meeting out of the office after eight. It's one of those night you didn't feel like cooking, so you settled for ordering yourself takeout from your favorite Thai food place, and made yourself comfortable on the couch, reading a book. Seungcheol barges in holding a shopping bag from Prada.
"Hi, darling." Ever since he proposed he started calling your this nickname. You won't complain though, you find it charming. You've never had anyone call you a sweet pet name.
"Hi, Cheol."
Pulling the blanket off your lap, you place your book down and walk over towards Seungcheol. "Did you go shopping?" You realized immediately that Seungcheol has a love for luxury designer items. All his suits he wears to the office are designer. Your favorite ones, being his Prada ones.
"I got you something." He holds the bag out towards you.
"Why?" You're very much not used to him buying you things, let alone expensive luxury items.
"Because you're my fiancée, and I saw this and thought of you."
Sitting the bag on the table, you pull out the tissue and find a black box with a bow on it. Your heart drops already knowing what's inside. One day while you were leaving work together you saw a woman with this bag and you told him how that was your dream bag. Your first mistake was letting him know you had a desire to own something expensive like this.
Opening the box, you want to cry at the sight, of the beautiful black leather bag, you've always dreamed of owning. To be quite honest, you're a little caught off guard by how much he's spoiling you. You have to remind yourself that this is a business transaction. That there are no romantic intentions behind his purchase. You need to tell yourself this a gift from a "friend."
"Seungcheol, this is beautiful." He gives you a crooked smile.
"I'm glad you like it." The second he knew you wanted this bag, he fully planned on buying it for you.
Your eyes start to water, you reach up pushing away your tears before they can fall. You can't help but feel embarrassed for crying in front of him. "I was thinking, even though this is a business transaction, that maybe we could still go on dates." You've been thinking about brining this up for the last few days. Angel had put the idea into your brain. Your best friend loves the idea that you and Seungcheol are living together. According to her, Seungcheol will treat you right and take care of you. She not wrong, you haven't been together that long and Seungcheol is actively going out of his way to be an amazing partner to you.
He nods and smiles. "I would love to take you out on dates." He steps toward you and leans in and presses his lips to your cheek for a gentle kiss. "How about we go out tomorrow night?"
"I would love that."
"What are you reading?"
"Just some romance novel Angel has been talking about nonstop." Your best friend has always loved a spicy romance novel, she's even roped you into reading them with her.
"What did you do for dinner?" Seungcheol asks as he removes his suit jacket.
"I ordered Thai food."
"Is there any left?"
"Yeah, I ordered enough for both of us."
You lead him into the kitchen and help dish him a plate. Sitting at the kitchen table, you silently read your book as he eats dinner.
-
Seungcheol made a big deal to both Seungkwan and Jeonghan that he need to be off on time today. He's gone out of his way to plan a romantic date night for you both.
Sitting at Jeonghan's desk, you're working on organizing his meetings for the next few days.
"You know your adoring fiancé is making a big deal about some date night?" Jeonghan looks up from his phone.
Your cheeks warm with blush. "Is he?"
"You now for this just being a business transaction, he's putting in a lot of effort to woo you." You thought when Seungcheol made this proposition, that this would simply be a business transaction, but things from the very beginning have felt a little too real.
The moment you clock out of work, Seungcheol is already at Jeonghan's office, ready to pick you up.
He's dressed in your favorite navy Prada suit he owns. In his hand he's holding a beautiful bouquet of red roses.
Jeonghan leans back in his desk chair, holding back a laugh. He's eating up the fact that Seungcheol is putting in a real effort.
"Are you ready to go?" Seungcheol asks, holding the bouquet out.
"Yes." Thank god you wore your favorite dress to work today, and decided to actually wear a pair of heels.
"Did you send Seungkwan off to pick those up?" Jeonghan chimes in.
"No." Seungcheol responds before grabbing your hand.
The second you step out of Jeonghan's office, hand in hand with the ceo of the company, all eyes are on you. Blush creeps up on your neck, realizing everyone in eye shot is staring at you.
Seungcheol squeezes your hand, snapping you out of your thoughts. He stops at the elevator. Leaning down his lips brush your ear. "Darling, ignore all of them."
Reaching, he presses the button. Silently you glance up at him. "You look beautiful." If only he knows that you wore a sexy red matching lingerie set he probably won't see.
The doors slide open and he leads you inside. As more people join you in the elevator, you end up practically pressed against him.
Walking outside you find Seungcheol’s expensive red Ferrari waiting for you. He wastes no time taking the flowers and holding the door open for you.
He jumps in the drive seat and puts the flowers back in your lap.
The drive to the restaurant is filled with a comfortable silence, as Seungcheol hums along to the radio.
You've learned since living with him, he loves singing along the radio lightly, and singing when he's in the shower.
He pulls the car up to the valet and you immediately recognize this restaurant. You've booked a few very important meetings for Jeonghan here. This place is crazy expensive.
The passenger door opens and Seungcheol is holding his hand out for you. "Come on, darling."
Your heels click against the marble floor. Hand in hand he leads you to host. "Two for Choi." He says holding up two fingers.
The hostess leads you over to a booth tucked away in the corner. Sliding into the booth, he sits down across from you. The hostess sits down a simple paper menu down in front of you. This place is known for the Omakase style. The sushi chef here is world renowned.
The waitress comes back over, and Seungcheol orders a nice bottle of sake.
Dinner is absolutely incredible. You've never had sushi this delicious before. The whole time you're eating and talking you can't help but notice how Seungcheol lights up as he talks to you. If you didn't know any better you might be think has feelings for you.
"Thank you for taking me out." You say before taking a sip of your sake.
"This is nice. We should try and go on a date once, or twice a week." When he talks to you like this, it's hard to tell yourself that this isn't real.
"I would like that."
The bill arrives and before the waitress can even put it down, Seungcheol is holding up his black card. You don't even want to know how expensive this date was.
Leaving the restaurant, Seungcheol immediately laces his fingers with yours. "Do you have room for dessert?" He ask before walking up to the valet.
"Yes."
"How do you feel about vanilla soft serve?"
"It sounds delicious."
Tugging on your hand, he leads you down the street to a little ice cream shop next door. He holds the door open, stepping inside you're reminded how overdressed you are. Your heels click against the tile. Seungcheol never releases your hand as he walks up and orders to cones.
The lady working the counter hands your a tall vanilla ice cream cone. Seungcheol leads your over to a little table by the window. He releases your hand as he helps you sit down. He takes his place across from you.
You slide your tongue through the creamy and sweet vanilla soft serve. Seungcheol's eyes stay on you, watching you enjoy your sweet treat.
"Have you been here before?" You ask before taking another lick.
"I like to come here after meetings. If it's a bad meeting it's a little pick me up, and if it's a good meeting, it's a celebration."
"What would you call this?"
"A celebration, after a nice date."
After ice cream you finally head back home. The whole ride you can't stop thinking about the way Seungcheol was looking at you. Recently, he's been flirting quite a bit, and things are just starting to feel too real. You realize maybe you really want things to be real.
THE TALK OF THE TOWN
Something about today feels off. Your morning started by spilling your coffee, and by the time you arrived to work with Seungcheol you're fed up with the constant stares from everyone at work.
Standing in the copy room, you're atempting to scan some items in peace. The door opens and you glance over to find two girls who work in accounting whispering and softly giggling. Taking a deep breath, you try and push away the negative thoughts floating around in your brain.
You know Seungcheol is used to being the talk around town, and having everyone stare at him, but you aren't used to this. You feel like a circus act.
Grabbing your papers, you quickly exit the room. You can feel both their eyes burning into you. Walking through office you can feel everyone continue to watch you.
Busting into Jeonghan office, you desperately need to escape everyone's prying eyes.
He looks up from his computer and knits his brows together. You must look absolutely frazzled.
"Are you okay?"
Closing your eyes you take another deep breath trying to gather yourself. "Yes." Lying feels like the best option at the moment.
"Sit down and stop lying to me."
Placing the papers down on the desk you sit across from him.
"What is going on?" He reaches for his coffee that's sitting next to him.
"I'm tired of everyone staring at me, and everyone talking about me when I enter a room here." You say quickly.
"Don't let them get to you, they're just jealous."
"Jeonghan, it's not that easy." You sigh.
"I know. But just know that Seungcheol and I will always have your back."
"Your fiancé has a meeting during lunch." He always gives you a mischievous smile whenever he refers to Seungcheol as your fiancé. "How about we go get some lunch together?"
"That would be nice."
Jeonghan leads you out of the office. You aren't sure what he has planned, but you follow him to the little cafe on the corner. The holds up two fingers and waiteess immediately leads you to the table by the window.
You sit down across from Jeonghan, picking up the menu. You realize you've had food delivered from this restaurant before for him.
"This is the place with your favorite chicken pesto sandwich."
"I was gonna order us lunch from here, but you clearly need an hour away from the office." Jeonghan sets his menu down. "I'm going to recommend my favorite, the chicken pesto. I would also suggest getting the lychee lemonade."
"How about you order for me," you give him a smile.
The waitress comes back and Jeonghan does order for you. This place is cute. Looking around, you wonder if Seungcheol would have lunch with you here one day.
The waitress comes back over and sets down a glass of ice cold lemonade in front of you, and a latte in front of Jeonghan.
"So, how is life being engaged?" He asked as he sticks his straw in his latte.
"Socially not the best, at home with Seungcheol—" At home things are feeling too real, and you cant help but constantly be confused.
Jeonghan raises his brow, before taking a sip of coffee. "Something tells me you're enjoying the aspect of sharing a home with him."
A heavy sigh passes your lips. "I can't talk about this with you. You're his best friend."
He shrugs. "Anything you say to me, won't be repeated. He may be my best friend, but I'm also friends with you."
"Things just feel a little too real right now."
Jeonghan nods before taking a drink of the cold beverage in front of him. "You know, Seungcheol seems happier since you both started the arrangement."
He's not wrong, before all of this started, whenever you would see Seungcheol around the office he was always sporting a frown. These days it's rare you don't see him smiling. The only time he doesn't seem happy, is when his father is in the office.
"He's not the only one that seems happier." You glances at you, raising his brow. "I don't think I have ever seen you this consistently happy." Before Seungcheol, you were a lot more stressed. Your job pays you well, but worrying about paying rent and all your expenses was too stressful at points. It's nice knowing, no matter what Seungcheol will take care of you.
"I feel happier. I spending time with him, and he's great to live with."
"I think you two would make a fantastic couple."
The waitress comes over and sets down both your meals. Jeonghan thanks her, and gives her a gentle smile.
"Aren't we already a couple?"
"I'm saying, if you start acting like this is fully real, you'll be even happier." Jeonghan's words play in your head on repeat. Over the last week or so you've wondered what it would like for your relationship with Seungcheol to be real. Sure, he takes you out and will hold your hand, but you want to know what it's like to kiss him and to be with him fully.
Arriving back at the office, you find Seungcheol by the elevator, with his phone pressed to his ear. The moment he see you and Jeonghan, he gives you a big smile.
Jeonghan nudges you and gently pushes you towards Seungcheol. Glancing over, you see the girls at the front desk clearly watching you, and whispering to each other.
Jeonghan immediately looks over at the girls. The startled look on their faces as he walks towards them says it all. The immediately stand up and bow their heads at him, clearly apologizing.
Seungcheol glances over there as he pockets his phone. He takes a couple steps towards you before pulling you into his chest for a hug.
He kisses the top of your head before you leading you towards the elevator.
-
CRAVING SOMETHING MORE
Sitting in Angel's favorite restaurant downtown, you're sipping on a latte listening to her talk about the crazy things Soonyoung has done to her in bed recently. It's been so long since you've been intimate with anyone, that hearing about her sex life is reminding you how much you miss sex.
"You look like you're zoning out." Angel says before taking a sip of her own latte.
"I'm listening." You raise your brow, leaning back.
"What's going through your mind?"
"Nothing." You don't want to have this conversation, let alone have it in the middle of a cafe.
"I don't believe you." She pouts. "Just tell me what's going on."
Reaching for your coffee, you take another sip of your ice latte. "Fine. I'm just thinking about the fact I miss being intimate with someone."
"Girl, last time I check you lived with a super hot buff guy who calls himself your fiancé."
"It's not that easy. We both know he's not fully my fiancé."
Angel dramatically rolls her eyes. "Um, last time I checked random men don't buy just any girl a Prada bag she's always dreamed of."
"He did that just to be nice." You look at said bag sitting on the table next to you.
"Girl, if you're missing sex and being intimate with someone, ride your sexy fake fiance." Angel has never been one to mend her words.
You're in the middle of a crowded cafe. The last thing you need is to have people hearing about your so called relationship with with Seungcheol. "Angel." You look around hoping no one is paying attention.
"What? You're the one who clearly seems to be pent up. Sometning tells me, your fiance would be down."
"Keep it down. I don't need the whole cafe in my business."
Angel smirks before taking a sip of her drink. "Are you bringing Seungcheol to my birthday tonight?"
"Yes." When you invited Seungcheol, you weren't sure if he would agree. It's been a few months since you've been faking your relationship, but you haven't attempted a social outing like this.
"Make a move on him tonight. Have yourself a little cocktail and loosen up and tell him you want to ride him into the sun." You can't even respond you just stare at her absolutely embarrassed. "Wear that skin tight lace dress I bought you. I promise you, Seungcheol won't be able to keep his hands to himself."
-
Arriving at Angel's luxury penthouse, you're dressed in the skimpiest dress you own. Standing outside the door, you keep attempting to smooth out the front of your dress. Seungcheol is standing next to you in a pair of black jeans, a white shirt that hugs his large frame, and a leather jacket. Looking down at your feet, you realize these high heels might have been a mistake.
"You look gorgeous by the way."
"Huh?" You look up at him, knitting your brows together.
"You keep messing with your dress, and I just want to let you know, you look incredible." He reaches out, taking your hand away from your stomach.
"I feel like the dress is too tight and makes my stomach stand out." You've always been a little bit self conscious about your body, and this dress isn't helping that.
"I promise you, you look sexy as hell."
Your ears burn with embarrassment. "Thank you."
The door swing opens and you find Angel standing there. "Come inside now." She grabs your free hand, pulling you and Seungcheol inside.
Her place is filled to the brim with too many people to count. Looking around, you see some familiar faces, and too people you have never seen before. She leads you off to her room where Soonyoung is sitting on her bed.
"Hi." He awkwardly waves to you and Seungcheol.
Angel releases your hand and walks over to Soonyoung. You immediately notice how he lights up instantly.
"I have the good alcohol tucked away in here. The last thing I need is people getting into my thousand dollar scotch." She walks over and grabs the expensive bottle of the dresser.
"How about we takes shots to celebrate my birthday?" She smiles.
"Sure." Seungcheol responds.
Soonyoung hops off the bed and goes over to the bar cart by her huge walk in closet. He comes back holding four crystal glass shot glasses.
Angel runs off to her closet while Soonyoung pours the dark liquor. She comes back dressed in a completely different dress. She wearing a vintage dress that looks incredible on her.
Soonyoung passes around the shots. Seungcheol raises his and says, "to the birthday girl."
Everyone takes their shots. The dark liquor burns as it slides down your throat. Your eyes stay trained on Seungcheol, watching as he's absolutely unfazed by the strong liquor.
Everyone puts there shot glasses back. Standing close to Seungcheol, he throws his arm over your shoulder, holding you close to him.
"My room is off limits to anyone who isn't in here now. If you guys need some privacy feel free to come in here." She raises her eyes brows at both of you suggestively.
Glancing up at Seungcheol you see him biting back a smile.
Reaching over, she grabs Soonyoung's hand and leads him out of her room. You're left standing their was Seungcheol.
"Should we go be social?" He asks.
"Probably."
Heading out of her room, you head off toward the kitchen. The kitchen is filled with people. Seungcheol makes his way to the fridge. He pulls out a bottle of beer and cracks it open.
"What would you like to drink?" He asks loud enough for you to hear over the booming music.
"I'll take a beer." He hands you the one he already opened and grabs another one.
It's not long before some of your friends find you, and immediately start chatting with Seungcheol. It seems everyone wants to know your "fiancée". You can't blame them, he's extremely charming and kind. You spend your night making small talk people. The whole night Seungcheol is by your side. Even when he's talking to someone else, you have his attention. His hand is always on you in one way or another. His hand on the small of your back makes every logical thought start slowly slipaway.
You excuse yourself, needing a moment to think. Walking through the crowded penthouse, you make your way to Angel's room. Heading to the ensuite bathroom you take your time using the restroom, before touching up your lip oil. You stare into the mirror, and start soothing out your dress.
A knock on the door startles you. You open door and aren't surprised to see Seungcheol standing there. His jacket is off, and your eyes instantly travel across his broad chest. This man looks mouth watering in absolutely anything he wears.
"I shouldn't have followed you, clearly you want space." He mumbles.
You shake your head. "I just needed a moment. I'm glad you followed me."
Without saying another word he steps towards you. He stands so close to you, there is barely any distance between you. Looking up at him you stand a slow breath. His large hand rest on rests on your cheek. Parting your lips slightly. He drags his thumb across your bottom lip.
"You're so pretty." He rasp. You can't think of anything to say, you just slowly blink at him. "My pretty fiancée." Leaning in his nose brushes against yours.
"Seungcheol?"
"Yes, darling?"
"Don't play games with me."
A smile tugs at his lips. "I would never do that."
The moment his lips touch you, the oxygen as been sucked out of the room. One hand holds your face, while the other rests on your side, holding you close to him. One of your hand clutches his shirt.
Your lips move together as if your need each other to breathe. He pulls back slightly and gives you a smile. He turns your body so you're pressed against the wall. Your dress rises up your thighs. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down towards you.
Kissing him is intoxicating. Any liquor you had during the party is long gone from your veins. Now you're drunk on Seungcheol. His hands rest on your hips, holding your close to him. You don't know how long you've been kissing for. His lips muffle your moans.
Pulling back, his lips are smeared with your lip oil. You both look slightly disheveled. You should be enjoying the fact that you finally kissed, but right now the only thing you can think about is what this means.
"We should go home." He says, pulling away. Your stomach sinks instantly. Your heart rate picks up as anxiety kicks in. Maybe you shouldn't have made out with your fake fiancé.
The car ride back to the house, feels different. Seungcheol hand is resting on your thigh. You catch him occasionally glancing over at you.
The moment you're inside, Seungcheol says goodnight before quickly kissing your forehead and disappearing off into his room.
After finally stripping away your tight lace dress that's left you feeling uncomfortable all night, you finally step into a hot shower.
The hot water helps strip away the tension. No matter how hard you try, you can't get the feeling of Seungcheol's lips on yours out of your mind.
NOTHING MORE THAN A GOLD DIGGER
It's been a week since your kiss you shared, and absolutely nothing has changed. There are still the lingering touches from him and longing looks from you, but nothing more has happened.
It's been clear since this morning that Seungcheol isn't having a good day. It's a Saturday and normally neither of you work on the weekends. Today is different though, Seungcheol has spent all morning locked away in his office.
You spend the morning out with Angel getting lunch and you thought maybe by the time you returned home Seungcheol would be done working.
Sitting on the couch, you're mindlessly scrolling through your phone. Seungcheol's office door opens. He closes the door and pauses, taking a deep breath. He walks out into the living room and finds you sitting on the couch.
"Are you okay?" You close your phone, and sit it down on the couch next to you.
"I'm sorry to do this, but we have to go to my parents house for dinner tonight." The frustrated look on his face lets you know everything you need to know. He moves and sits down on the couch next you. He leans back, letting out a heavy sigh.
"I don't mind going." It's not exactly a lie. You will absolutely go to stand by Seungcheol side, but you're quite scared to meet his parents. Specifically his father.
He pushes himself up, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm not saying this because you don't always look nice, but I need you to look extra nice tonight. My parents are judgy." You know what he means, you don't take offense to what he says.
"What should I wear?"
"Why don't you wear that Chanel dress I bought you, and pair of heels?" You know the exact dress he's talking about. He randomly gave it to you last week, and you told yourself you were going to save it for a special occasion. You didn't expect that special occasion to be meeting his parents.
"Okay. What time are we going?"
"Can you be ready by five?" That's two hours away, it won't take you that long to get ready.
"Yeah."
You both go your separate ways, Seungcheol heads off to his room, and you head off to your bathroom.
Turning the shower on, you let the water warm up. Stripping away your clothes you step into the warm water. Tonight calls for an everything shower. You wash your hair, scrub your body with you warm vanilla scented sugar scrub, before you take your time shaving.
After the shower you take your time, applying your fancy body oils, and lotions. Your goal is to feel as nice as possible tonight.
Heading off to the closet you find the exact dress Seungcheol gave you. The dress fits perfectly. The only problem is, you can't reach the back zipper. Picking up your heels you walk out into the living room. You glance into the kitchen to find Seungcheol standing there drinking what looks to be a glass of whiskey.
You drop your heels on the floor and walk towards. One of your hands is across your chest, holding up your dress.
"Can you help me with the zipper?"
He nods and walks up towards. Turning around you make sure your hair is out of the way. Slowly he slides the zipper up.
"There you go."
You turn back around to face him. His eyes slowly travel up and down your body, clearly checking you out.
"You look beautiful."
"Hopefully your parents like me." It shouldn't matter if they do, this whole relationship is fake, but you desperately want them to like you.
He stares at you trying to figure out what to say. He wants his parents to like you, but he knows how his father is.
"My dad is tough, but my mother is kind." He walks over and picks up the glass of whiskey. He chugs the rest of the liquid and doesn't even flinch.
"We should go." You say.
Arrive at Seungcheol's family home, you can't help but be in awe at how beautiful their home is.
Seungcheol parks his car in the driveway. The moment he's parked he hops out to open your door. He's clearly a mixture of nervous and frustrated.
Hand in hand he leads you to the front door. "No matter what, I have you back." Is the last thing he says before the door is opened.
Walking in you're immediately greeted by his mother. She's excited to see you both. She pulls Seungcheol in for a hug.
"Mother, this is my fiance." He does even get to say your name before his mother is pulling you in.
"Seungcheol said you're pretty, and he's not wrong, you're beautiful." Blush creeps across your cheeks. She releases you and leads you both towards the kitchen.
"Let's have a glass of wine."
Looking around the expensive hi-tech kitchen, you're truly reminded how different both your tax brackets are.
"Seungcheol, go get your father and tell him it's dinner time."
Seungcheol hand lingers on your lower back for a moment. He knits his brows together and opens his mouth, wanting to tell his mother no.
"I'll be okay." You mouth to him quietly.
Hesitantly, Seungcheol leaves you alone.
You glance over at Mrs. Choi, she gives you a gentle smile, one that reminds you of your own mother. She picks up a glass from the counter, and pours you a glass of white wine.
Taking the glass you stare at it for a moment before taking a sip.
"Seungcheol is a good man." His mother says.
"I know."
"My husband is a tough man, but he's tough because he's trying to protect the things he loves." This is her way of defending him. Seungcheol rarely speaks of his father, it's clear to you that they have quite a few issues.
"I would never do anything to hurt Seungcheol." You've fallen in love with her son, the last thing you want to do is hurt him.
"I can tell by the way that you both look at each other that you're in love." You stomach drops. Your feelings you have for Seungcheol don't feel like they're being reciprocated.
"He's a great man."
"I asked Seungcheol if you had any food allergies. I asked our chef to make something special for dinner tonight." She gives you another smile before taking a drink of her wine.
Seungcheol comes back alone. He can't hide the irritated look on his face. "He'll join us in a little while. Let's start dinner." He grabs your hand leading you towards the dining room.
Walking into the dining room, you're greeted by a long marble table. Four places are already set. Seungcheol shows you to your place and sits down next to you. His mother sits down across from you.
Silently, you sit there listening to Seungcheol and his mother talk. Its clear he's quite distant recently. She's a sweet lady, and it's clear she cares about her son.
The chef comes out and places down plates in front of you. The food looks absolutely delicious. Quitely you eat, listening to Mrs. Choi talk about a charity dinner she's hosting.
The moment Mr. Choi walks in the room the mood shifts. Mrs. Choi stands up to greet him. The feeling of Seungcheol large hand resting on your thigh instantly catches your attention.
"You must be my son's fiancée. The assistant." The way he's says your job title sounds degrading.
"Nice to meet you." Your voice is meek. You feel like you don't belong here.
"Don't speak to her like that." Seungcheol immediately responds.
His father barks out a laugh, sitting down at the table, across from him. A screaming silence takes over the room. The tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife. His father doesn't say anything else as another round of food is brought out.
His mother goes back to talking about her charity event. You silently sit there eating. You can feel Mr. Choi's eyes burning into you.
"So, how did you manage to seduce my son?" He gives you a pointed look.
Glancing at Seungcheol, he grinds his teeth. His hand squeezes your thigh.
"I didn't persue your son."
"That's funny." Mr. Choi barks out another laugh.
"I asked her out. She wouldn't give me the time of day for month. I persued her." Seungcheol responds.
"Seungcheol, you're the cities most eligible bachelor and you picked a gold digger." His venomous works sting. Wincing, You avert your eyes.
Shoving his plate forwards, Seungcheol stands quickly. "You will not speak to my fiancée that way. Darling, let's go home." He reaches for your hand.
"Cheol." his mother stands up quickly.
His father leans back in his chair with his eye burning into you.
"Mother, I'm sorry. I'm not going to sit here and let him speak to her like that."
"Baby, let's go home." He's never called you that before. You can see the desperation behind his eyes.
Standing, you let him lead you out of house. The moment you're outside, he lets out a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry." Is all he can say.
"It's okay." You're hurt, but that's not his fault.
The car ride home is filled with silence. It's clear Seungcheol is extremely upset. Walking into the house, he pauses and stares at you.
"I'm sorry," he repeats again.
"I'm okay."
Walking over to you, he rests his hand on your cheek. You think for a moment he might kiss you. He leans in and gently kisses your cheek before heading off to his bedroom.
-
No matter how hard you try, you can't sleep. Lying in bed staring at the ceiling, your mind wonders to Seungcheol. Pulling yourself out of bed you glance at yourself in the full length mirror. You're dressed in panties that barely cover your butt and a baggy shirt that hits mid thigh. You should find a robe or something but right now, you just need to to get out of this room. Maybe a glass of water or something will help you relax.
Your sock covered feet pad against the hard wood floor. Walking through the living room, you glance over and see Seungcheol office door is cracked open, light is flickering out into the dark living room.
No thoughts are in your head as you walk towards his office. Not bothering to knock you peak your head in. You find his laptop in front of him. He's dressed in just a pair of cotton gray lounge pants. His beautiful bare torso is on display.
The sound of the door creeking closed catches his attention. Raising his head, his eyes catch yours.
"What are you doing up?" He pushes his chair back a little.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Why?"
"I was worried about you."
He pushes his fingers through his dark hair, and lets out a sigh. "You shouldn't have to worry about me."
You take a step towards his desk. His eyes travel up and down your very exposed legs. Thinking maybe you should have found something else to wear.
"Dinner upset you." You place your hand on the expense marble top desk.
"I was upset, because he was rude to you." He lets out a sigh. "I don't ever want to see you upset, and knowing that my father was intentionally rude to you—" he blinks and looks away. "I just don't like that he treated you that way, and he thought he could say those cruel things to you."
"I don't care what he thinks about me. I just care about what you think." You walk around the desk. He rolls his chair back, giving you room to stand in front of him.
He looks up at you with sad eyes. Reaching our you rest your hand on his cheek. "I don't like seeing you upset."
"I'm not upset anymore."
Pulling back, you rest your butt against his desk. You stare at him, studying him carefully. Ever since that kiss you shared, you've desperately wanted to do it again.
Reaching out he silently mess with the hem of your baggy shirt. "I like your pajamas."
Blush flushes your cheeks. "I should have put a robe on."
He shakes his head, standing quickly. "No, you shouldn't have." He takes a step towards you, caging you in against his desk. The tension in the room is thick. Leaning in he brushes his nose against yours.
"Cheol—"
"Yes, darling?" He pulls back slightly.
"Why haven't you kissed me again since the party?" That kiss you shared has been living in your mind on repeat.
His hand rests on your cheek. Slowly he drags his thumb across your bottom lip. "I was afraid you didn't want me to kiss you again. I feel like I keep messing things up with you."
"I want you to kiss me again." You muster up every single ounce of confidence you have.
"My fiancée wants another kiss?" He raises his brow.
"Please."
He leans in slowly, leaving you desperate for what's to come. First touch of his lips is intoxicating. One hand rest on your hip, while the other holds your face. This kiss feels different, feels desperate and lust filled.
He pulls back and looks are you with lust blown eyes. Both your lips are swollen from the intense kiss.
"More." You whisper.
Without another word, he grabs your hips lifting your on to his desk. The marble is cold against the bare skin of butt and thighs. A shiver runs down your spine. Seungcheol stands between your spread legs, crashing his lips into yours. His lips are air and your oxygen deprived lungs. Wrapping your arms around his neck you hold him close. His hands run up and down your shirt cover sides.
He pulls back just a little to judge your reaction. "More." You repeat as you chase his lips.
Pushing his hand up under your baggy shirt, you feel his calloused hand run along your side. Pushing yourself towards him, you're desperate for more.
One of his hands moves to your butt, groping the flesh through your panties. Absentmindedly, a moan leaves your lips.
"You sound so pretty," he practically moans as his lips make a trail from your jaw down to the most sensitive part of your neck.
"Cheol." You moan his name like a sinful prayer.
He slips his hand under your panties. Grabbing your cheek, and pulling you towards the edge of the desk. It desperate moan leaves your lips, feeling Seungcheol hardened erection pressing against your panty covered core.
"Fuck me." You aren't quite sure where that came from, but you want him so badly it hurts.
"Baby, we shouldn't have our first time on my desk while I'm upset." He pulls back with wide eyes. He's trying his hardest to think logically.
"Okay." You pull back from him. The instant feeling of rejection is almost too hard to bare.
He leans in and presses his lips to yours for a soft kiss, the complete opposite of what you just experienced. "Hey, don't do that. I want you so fucking bad, but I don't want our first time to be like this. You deserve romance, and something sweet. This feels rushed and horny." You definitely weren't expecting him to say that.
"Horny?" You can't help but smile.
"Yes, this feels like we're a couple of horny teens."
"Okay."
"We should go to bed."
He helps you get off the desk. He doesn't move though, he stands right in front of you. Placing his hand on your cheek, he leans down to give you another kiss.
Taking your hand, he leads you out of his office. You wish he would take you to his room, but it's clear he's trying to be a gentleman.
-
Falling asleep was nearly impossible after kissing Seungcheol again. You fell asleep dreaming of him.
By the time the morning light was peaking through your curtains, your eyes flutter open.
After last night, you've grown tired of playing cat and mouse with Seungcheol. You're tired of pretending, you want to be with him fully. You're sick of this just being pretend.
Crawling out of bed, you head to the bathroom to quickly brush your teeth. You're hoping you can catch Seungcheol before he goes to the gym for his morning work out.
Your sock covered feet pad across the hardwood floor. Walking up to Seungcheol room, you see the light peaking out from below the door.
Taking a deep breath you knock on the door. You hear his foot steps and the door opens. He knits his brows and stares at you, looking confused. He's dressing in his gym clothes, you must have caught him before he was heading out.
"We need to talk." You say.
"Sure."
"Do you want me?" You're being brave. If you want this game of cat and mouse to end, this is the only way.
"Yeah, my god I want you so bad."
Nothing else is said. Throwing yourself forward you wrap your arms around his neck. Your lips crash together for a searing kiss. Grabbing your hips, he walks you back into his room, your lips never parting as he kisses you, as if he needs you to breathe.
"You're killing me with your pajamas."
Pulling away he reaches for your shirt. He rips it off you quickly, leaving you standing there in just your panties and socks.
His eyes are lust blown. Crashing his lips back into yours, he kissed his way from your lips, down your neck. Biting your bottom lip, you try and hold back a moan.
His fingers hook into your panties, pulling them down your thighs, slowly. Mindlessly he kisses the top of your mound while looking up at you through his lashes.
"Cheol—" his name is nothing more then a desperate moan.
He pulls back with his lips slightly swollen. "Let me take care of you."
"Okay."
"Get on the bed, baby." There he goes calling you baby again. If you aren't already wet, you would be now.
He places a knee on the bed. His eyes are filled with lust as he stares at you. Leaning up on your elbows you watch your fiancé remove his shirt. He tosses it across the room, towards the pile of your clothes.
Sitting on his knees between your spread legs, his large hand gently rubs your thigh. "You're stunning, and seeing you spread out like this for me is driving me crazy."
"Cheol—"
"Seeing you last night in nothing but your panties and that shirt, practically drove me insane. It took everything in me not to give in, and fuck you, just like you asked." His words leave you even more turned on.
"Seungcheol—"
"Yes, darling?" He gives you a wicked grin.
"Please touch me." You've never been one to beg, but right now you'll do anything to be with him.
He moves so he's hovering over you. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull him closer to you. He pulls back with the same grin.
"I want to taste you."
Silently, you nod, desperate for more.
He leaves a wet trail of kisses from your jaw down. He drags his tongue between the valley of your breast. He takes his time groping each of your breast. While one hand plays with one breast, the other sucks and toys with your nipple, earning a whining moan from you.
Closing your eyes you toss your head back. "Cheol—"
"Such an impatient girl." He teases.
He goes back to dragging his tongue down the valley of your breast. He spots at the top of your mound.
He moves so he's laying on his stomach with needy core in front of him. You look down at him, and find him staring at you with his lust filled eyes.
"You're already so wet." He drags his fingers through your wet folds. "Did you get wet just from making out?" He takes his finger into his mouth, tasting your slick. "You taste just as sweet as I thought you would."
He takes his time kissing the inside of your thigh couple times, helping to relax you. "Baby, I want you taste you."
He dives into your pussy, like a man starved. He takes his time sucking on your clit while he toys with your entrance.
One of his fingers slide into you with ease. His eyes never leave yours as he toys with you. Then licks fat strips across your clit. He adds another finger, helping to stretch you out. You haven't seen him fully naked, but you know that he's massive. Just based on his built, and how he looks walking around in sweatpants. You know he's packing.
Without thing you tangle your fingers in his dark hair. Pushing your hips up, you desperately try to to bring yourself closer to that edge.
"Baby, you're so needy." He laughs pulling his lips away from your core. He never stops thrusting his finger in and out of you. "I know you can come. Be a good girl and come for me."
Breathlessly, you nod. Sinking into the overly expensive cotton sheets, your orgasm hits you hard and fast. Your fingers tug in his hair for a moment before all the muscles in your body relax. Your walls flutter around his fingers, as he massages your gummy walls helping you ride out your high.
He pulls back and slips his wet fingers back into his mouth.
"Darling, how do you like it?" You definitely weren't expecting him to ask that. You don't think you've ever had a man ask you that before.
"I don't know."
He cocks his head to the side. "Baby, what do you mean you don't know?"
"I just want you, and I'll take anything you'll give me." You hold your hand out towards him.
"Grab a pillow, and put it under your hips." Without thinking you follow his instruction. He hops off the bed and goes over to the nightstand. Pulling out a box of unopened condoms, and a bottle of lube.
Your eyes watch him carefully as he strips away his clothes. It's a mouth watering sight, watching his massive erection smack against his stomach.
He grabs the box and before he can even open it, you mutter out his name.
"Yeah?"
"We can go bare. I'm on birth control and I'm clean."
He tilts his and asks. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
Picking up the bottle of lube, he clicks it open and pours some across his length. He slowly pumps it with his eyes trained on you.
Crawling back onto the bed, he picks the lube back up. "This might be a little cold." Slowly, he pour the cool liquid onto your needy core. He takes his time massaging your opening with the lube.
"I'm big, so this might hurt." By the looks of his massive cock, you feel like that's an understatement.
He moves so he's sitting on his knees between your spread legs. He takes his length in his hand, he run the rosy tip through your folds a few times. Intentionally making sure he bumps your sensitive clit.
"I'll go slow, and if you get uncomfortable we can stop." He insane if he thinks you'll stop him. You aren't sure you have ever wanted a man more then you want him. Even if sex with him is a little painful, you'll take anything he can possibly give you.
The first inch is quite uncomfortable. The way you gasped silently is enough to make his brain short circuit. He watches you carefully, making sure you aren't in too much pain.
You reach for his hand. You want to touch him desperately. He moves his body so he's closer to you as he slowly slides in inch by inch. He doesn't move for a moment, he stay still, filling you to the brim.
Leaning down his rest his nose against yours. "You feel so good." He whispers.
"You're really big," you let out the softest laugh.
"You're just really tight." He pushes himself back a little. He's resting on his elbow, practically plastered against you.
"I might be tight, but anyone would be when you have a massive cock."
He can't help but smile at your statement. You don't understand how cute he thinks you are. He reaches out, brushing your hair away from your face.
"You can move." He leans down, pressing his lips to yours for a sweet kiss.
Your first time together isn't some rough passion filled night. Seungcheol wants your first time together to be passionate, but romantic. He keeps a slowly and deep pace. With pull of his hips, he leaves just the tip inside of you. Driving his hips back in at a firm pace, he practically kisses your cervix with his length.
Everything about your fiancé is massive and the feeling of him covering you as he slowly fucks you is absolutely intoxicating.
Lifting your leg you rest your foot on his back. He sets a slow but deep pace. Your fingers are tangled in his hair, holding him close to you.
"You feel so good." You moan.
"You were made for me." He moans against your neck. "You're such a good girl for me."
You stay like this forever with him. With each thrust he touches that spot deep inside you, that has you seeing stars.
Closing your eyes you tilt your head back. All the nerves in your body feel alive. Your second orgasm is rapidly approaching. Biting your bottom lip, you try to stay quiet.
"I wanna hear you." He moans.
"Fuck—" All logical words have left your brain.
One of your hands grip the sheets below you. He picks up his pace, your grip on his cock, letting him know you're close.
"Baby just let go." His sweet sinful words push you over the edge. For a moment it feels as if every muscle in your body is tense. White hot wave washes over you like you've never quite experienced before. Suddenly you feel more relax than you ever have. Your walls flutter around his lenght like a heartbeat.
He never stops thrusting, he helps you ride out your high. He pulls back, earning a whimper from you. He pulls out of you and sits in his knees his still hard cock, is covered in your release.
"Come here, baby."
Using every ounce of strength you have, you crawl to him. While he's sitting on his knees, you straddle his thighs. Reaching between you, you line yourself up with he length. Ever so slowly you sink back down.
He lets you set the pace. Instead of bouncing up and down, you rolls your hips into his. His lips are all over your throat, definitely leaving marks in his wake.
You can tell he's getting close by the moans falling from his lips. His hands grip your hips, helping to guide you up and down his length at a quicker pace.
Your third orgasm comes out of nowhere. Throwing your head back you moan his name. Leaning forward your rest your head on his shoulder.
Your walls contracting around him, push him over the edge. He holds you flush against his thighs, as he paints your walls with his milky release.
Pulling your head back you look at him with a lazy smile.
Slowly, you pull yourself off him and lay down on the bed. He hops off and heads to the bathroom. The site of his naked butt jogging away is something you're never forget.
He comes back holding a warm wash cloth. He takes his time gently cleaning up the mess he's made of you.
After disposing of the towel he crawls into bed with you. Laying on your side you're staring at him. He's lying next to you laying on his side. Reaching out he grabs your hand.
"I love you." He says those three words you have been dying to hear.
"I love you too." Even if you were too scared to admit it, you've been in love with him for a while. "I don't want this to be fake anymore."
"It hasn't been fake for a while. In my eyes, you've been mine." He says with the sweetest smile.
"You're mine too."
He closes the distance and kisses you. Pulling back he says "We can make this real. Screw dating, I want to actually marry you."
"I would like that, but maybe we should properly date and stuff."
He lets out a little laugh. "We can do that. But I'm still calling you my fiancée."
"Alright. We're officially engaged."
If you would've known going on that date and pretending to be Angel would lead you here, you would have never tried to get out of going on that date with Seungcheol. You never expected to date him, let alone fall in love with him and end up engaged for real.
"I love you, baby." He leans in for another kiss.
"I love you too."
an: this might get a part 2 for their wedding or it might make a sequel with Angel and Soonyoung that has these two love birds wedding. If anyone would be interested in reading that pls let me know.
trope/au » non-idol au, established relationship au
genre » very very super fluffy, and ig hurt/comfort...?
word count » 1325
warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » reader experiencing period pains, not proofread
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist
i feel like it's been a while (cause it has 🥲) and here is my update during that time. the motivation to do anything has been going in and out lately. i told myself i would do a first draft to my dissertation during my uni break but i've only done the planning and maybe 1/5 of it, and uni starts soon. the break has gone so fast this time it's actually crazy. thank you for those who have waited patiently. i've been jumping around my longer fics and not finishing any of them so i decided to give myself a break by writing this short scenario. hope you like it!
Weekends are for relaxing. Weekends are for having fun with loved ones. Weekends are for all the things that you want to do during the weekdays, but responsibilities say otherwise. And weekends are for Jeong Yunho.
And that's how it's supposed to be until your period kicks you in the stomach; literally. You're never one to have serious cramps or pain. It's happened only a handful of times, and those days were filled with sleep to forget about the pain, or medication to ease the pressure on your lower body. But this time, it's a bit different. The pain comes in waves at random times, waking you up from your sleep throughout the night.
You could barely stand, and the smallest steps made you wince when you tried going to the bathroom last night. With streaks of tears down your face, you had to cancel your date with Yunho. Dejected and angry, you let your pillows be a victim of your punches and crying. But even then, your outburst didn't last long because the muscle contractions from your lower body stilled you.
Come the morning, your hair is surely messy despite not leaving the mattress much. Yunho responded to your message and even called for a while before he had to rush off somewhere. Your mum left breakfast for you on your nightstand and a couple of chocolates, but you didn't have the appetite for anything. You could only stare at your ceiling and eventually pull your blankets up to your chin, exhausted from the physical episodes that happened in the last twelve hours.
On the other hand, Yunho has always had a period tracker app for you on his phone. Not to track when your outbursts might happen the most. Not to track when your emotions might heighten the most either. None of those stuff that the internet has framed in a comedic sense. But to know when you could be hurting, and when he should pay even more attention to you. When he should be buying all kinds of snacks and skincare products. When you would need comfort the most. When you would need understanding the most.
He's quite flustered this time since your period came a few days earlier than expected, but he's come prepared. Yunho has gone shopping for a little care basket for you recently, and prepared and displayed them all prettily in a basket.
"Oh!" He exclaims before reaching his final gift. "And you too, Snoopy," setting the plush in the middle as he rearranges everything for the last time.
With all this, he drives to your house, careful to make sure the contents of the basket don't move too much. In the end, he ends up tidying them up even though the change is minimal. When Yunho steps up and knocks on your front door, your mum greets him happily with a warm hug.
Your mum gasps at the assortment of your favourite things in his hand. "Thank you for taking such good care of her."
Yunho shakes his head. "I will always take care of Y/N. Just leave it to me."
Right on time, the electric teapot is ready to serve the boiling water for the chamomile tea that your mum is about to serve. Yunho frowns at the reminder that you're in pain.
"She might be sleeping, but you're more than welcome to check," she gives a small smile. "I'll let it cool down a bit before I get to her. I'll pour you a cup too!"
Yunho extends his gratitude before making his way to your bedroom. His knuckles softly against the wooden door before opening it. Your room is dark despite the small gap between your curtains, and Yunho spots the pile of papers stacked on top of each other on your study desk. With subtle steps and the softest closing click to your door, he places his basket on the bedside table and kneels on the floor beside your bed. You're peacefully sleeping, small snores leaving your gaping lips. Yunho chuckles, patting your head and leaving a kiss on your forehead.
He turns around to your study desk and tidies the little space, ready for you to use it again when you get better. He keeps the rustling from his movements minimal and places each object on the table carefully, even if it's just a piece of paper. As the table comes together, the framed picture of you and him has Yunho's lips widening. It's the first date that he took you on, and it's in the amusement park with his puppy headband and you with a bunny headband. He has his chin resting on your shoulder, and the slightly high angle catches the way his arms are wrapped around your middle, snug and tight against him.
"Snooping around?" Yunho turns to your voice, sleep still evident in the volume.
"Hi love," your boyfriend approaches you once more, the smile only widening as his lips take yours sincerely. "How are you feeling?"
You shake your head. "It's never been this bad before."
The knit between his eyebrows and the way Yunho takes your fingers between his has your tears welling up. "I'm here," he kisses the back of your hand. "And I come with extra comfort."
He turns your attention to his gift. You gasp at your favourite character in its most huggable form. Yunho shakes his head in adoration, handing you the Snoopy gift first. Immediately, you cuddle the puppy and tuck him into your blanket next to you. Your cheeks press against the soft material, and a satisfied smile overtakes you.
"Wow," Yunho raises an eyebrow. "You literally have a giant golden retriever in human form, but you choose the beagle instead."
You continue the teasing, hiding your face into the object of his jealousy, "Snoopy is comforting."
"I'm comforting too!"
"He gives me a different kind of comfort."
Yunho scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully and tries to pry his gift away to no avail. "I can't believe I'm losing to a stuffed animal."
"Snoopy, you hear that? You won!" You stretch his paw high in celebration.
"I was going to do some skincare and watch movies with you, but I guess you don't need me-"
Yunho was already rising on his feet when you reached for his wrist and, with the little energy you had left, tugged him down. He finds his balance and space on the bed, sitting down next to you. The unexpected pull widens Yunho's eyes, reddening his cheeks as you tangle your fingers back into his hold. His gaze slowly softens, his other free hand cupping your cheek when a gentle chuckle leaves your lips. You try to sit up, but the position has you whimpering. Your boyfriend quickly leans over to you, laying you back in bed.
"Thank you…"
Yunho shakes his head, "I'm sorry that you're not feeling well."
You breathe out with a frown. Just like he did before, you pull your joined hands to your lips, pressing your lips to the back of his hand. "You're here. I'm feeling much better now."
You shift towards one end of the bed to make space for your boyfriend. Yunho gladly takes the offer, putting your new plushie back on your bedside table. When you were about to retort, he hushed you quickly with kisses all over your face; that's one way of keeping the attention on him.
Yunho lies on his side, his arm across your middle carefully. "Go get some rest. And then, we can do some skincare together."
Your stomach is still acting up, and you're still uncomfortable from the sensation. But Yunho's hold and presence make it so much easier to forget it all. A different kind of perfect comfort that you have been wanting your whole life, especially in this tough time. In the end, your weekend is still full of Jeong Yunho, and you have him to thank.
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist
join/remove from the taglist here » @eighteez-net @k-films @kflixnet @k-vanity @starlit-network @blossomnet @pirateeznet @k-records @haneul-and-clouds @svzllts @chanheescafe @ffenjoyerdazme @wooyoungqueen @stxrrywoo @redemptions @minkieater @moooonandroses
after going on a blind date with false pretenses with the ceo of your company, things take a turn when he asks you to marry him to keep himself from ending up in an arranged marriage.
⟢ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: coming soon
⟢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, smut, fake dating, angst
⟢ 𝐚𝐮(𝐬): business proposal au
⟢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12k+
⟢ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cussing, lying, drinking, lots of office gossip, Cheol has daddy issues, people think mc is a gold digger, insecurities and body issues.
⟢ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, they both are needy, lots of making out, big dick Seungcheol, oral (fem rec), fingering, hair pulling body worship, multiple positions, Seungcheol talks mc through it. nicknames: darling, baby, good girl (hers) baby, cheol (his)
⟢ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ minors do not interact.
⟢ 𝐚𝐧: This fic is for the SVTFLIX collab hosted by @100vern. It’s loosely based on the k-drama business proposal.
THE HEIR TO A FORTUNE AND A SECRETARY
Cheol Seungcheol prodigal son in the heir to the Choi Corporation. Being the only child of an extremely wealthy and successful businessman has left Seungcheol with immense pressure. His whole life since birth has been laid out for him. From the moment he graduated high school he was sent to a prestige college with the intention of immediately stepping into the family business. The day after graduation he started working for his families company and never looked back.
One thing about being the heir to the company that means his parents are obsessed with the idea of him settling down and giving them at least one grandchild. Seungcheol is so wrapped up in work, he can't even imagine dating. Let alone getting married and staring a family.
These days his weeks consist of going on dates with socialites and heiress that his mother believe would make a great wife.
Tonight is no different he finds himself in an expensive restaurant with a pretty woman sitting across from him. Except this time the woman across from him isn't an someone who comes from a rich family, it's a you. You don't come from money, nor do you have much to be honest. You work for Seungcheol's company as Jeonghan's assistant. The funny things is Seungcheol knows your name, and definitely knows you're not Angel the girl he's supposed to be on a date with.
Word Count: 5,437
Genre: Angst, fluff
AU: Non idol AU, Teacher AU
Tropes: Friends to lovers to strangers
Rating: PG, but I still ask that MINORS DNI!
Warnings: Swearing, slightly toxic relationship near the end, Jihoon is a little obsessive about being the best, no happy ending. If you think I missed something though, please let me know!
Summary: Jihoon was willing to do whatever it took to be the best, even if it cost him his marriage.
A/N: This fic is an incredibly late submission for the Angst Olympics collab. I'm so happy to get this one out there! If you like it please check out the other writers that are part of this incredible project.
Also, Jihoon's personality in this one was heavily inspired by "Are You Satisfied?" by Marina, as you can probably tell from the lyrics in the banner.
Taglist: @xomakara, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @effervescentorbs, @okiedokrie-main, @notyourjaem, @ikeukiss, @shadowkoo, @1-800-jewon, @myneurodivergentworld
Send me an ask or dm to be added or removed!
Fic is under the cut.
When you first met Jihoon, you had no idea just how important he would become as you lived your life. All you knew was that the two of you were in the same physics class, and your teacher, Mr. Jeon, had just paired you up for a project. The details of the project made very little sense to you, but Jihoon understood all of it perfectly. You were honestly amazed by how quickly he seemed to grasp everything when it came to the course material, especially considering physics was a subject that you’d always struggled in.
You were smart, sure, but history and English had always been easier for you to understand than math and science, which seemed to be Jihoon’s strengths based on the fact that he always got the highest grades in your class. You sort of felt like an asshole for admitting it to yourself, but you couldn’t help but feel relieved when Mr. Jeon told you that you would be working with him.
One of the things that you learned very quickly about Jihoon was that he always felt like he needed to be the best. Of course, you learned it the hard way, by doing one of the simpler parts of the project to a standard that he considered unacceptable. You showed him your work during one of your meetings at his house, and when he looked over the sheet of equations, he looked at you with what you could only describe as disgust and asked, “Are you kidding me?”
“What do you mean?”
“All of these are wrong.”
“No, they aren’t. I checked them three times.”
“Then you didn’t check them correctly. Look,” he responded, showing you the mistakes that you’d missed. You wanted to leave in that moment, but your pride wouldn’t let you. So, you took the paper back with a huff and fixed the mistakes that Jihoon had pointed out. Once you were fairly sure you’d fixed everything, you gave the paper back to your partner, and he gave you a smile before he said, “See?”
You rolled your eyes in response and said, “Whatever, let’s just get this over with.”
The last time the two of you got together to put finishing touches on your project, Jihoon seemed a lot more nervous than usual. So, once the two of you were settled at his dining room table, you asked, “Is everything ok?”
“Yeah, I’m ok. Just nervous about this project, you know?”
You sighed and answered, “Yeah, I know. My whole grade is riding on this.”
“I sort of figured you were struggling. That’s why I’ve tried so hard to make sure everything is done the right way. I just wanted you to do well so that you pass. You’re smart. It’s not fair for you to fail because of silly mistakes.”
You smiled at his words and said, “Thanks for watching out for me.”
After that, the two of you finished the few things that still had to be done, and your project was officially complete. Strangely enough, though, you really didn’t want to leave. If you’d finished the project a few weeks ago, you would have practically sprinted to get out of Jihoon’s dining room and never spoken to him again. Sitting at the familiar table, though, watching the way he smiled at you, you really didn’t want to leave.
You snapped out of your thoughts when Jihoon said, “Would you want to stay for a bit longer? You don’t have to, of course, I just thought-”
“That sounds great.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. What do you wanna do now?”
“We could watch a movie if you want.”
“What movie did you have in mind?”
Jihoon led you to his living room and pulled a box out from under the coffee table. You were a bit confused at first, but when you saw the countless DVDs that filled the box, you understood what was happening. He dug through the box for what felt like an eternity before he pulled one of them out and passed the case to you as he asked, “What do you think about this one?”
You read the summary on the back of the case and thought for a moment. Sure, the goofy comedy wasn’t necessarily your thing, but you didn’t care at that point. So, you smiled and said, “I think it sounds great,” passing the case back to Jihoon.
Jihoon put the box back under the coffee table, stood up from his spot, and put the DVD in the player that was hooked up to his TV. Then, he led you to the couch, and the two of you sat next to each other with smiles on your faces as the movie started to play.
While you and Jihoon watched the movie, you talked about whatever came to mind, both related to the movie and related to your lives outside of school. He told you about his lifelong interest in physics, and you told him about how badly you wanted to be a teacher when you grew up. With a smile on his face and a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite identify, he said, “I think you’d be an amazing teacher.”
“Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
You weren't entirely sure what changed after the project was finished. All you knew was that seemingly in the blink of an eye, you and Jihoon were practically inseparable. You even hosted a joint graduation party after your senior year ended, which is where Jihoon gave you the nickname “star.” You tried to ask him why he wanted to call you “star” of all things, but he refused to tell you. You decided not to press further, though. After all, it was cute.
After graduating high school, you and Jihoon both went to a nearby community college to study education, with both of you planning to become teachers after getting your degrees. It was actually during your last year of college that you realized that your feelings for Jihoon weren’t strictly platonic anymore. You were slightly embarrassed by the realization, especially considering it took so long, but you couldn’t get too mad at yourself. After all, you were pretty sure that Jihoon felt the same way about you.
You found out for sure that Jihoon reciprocated your feelings on a night that you were least expecting it. You’d gone to a party that your mutual friend Junhui was hosting, expecting a night of fun with your friends. What you found instead was a cold reminder of how alone you truly felt. The music was so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think, no one paid any attention to you unless they were asking you where to find someone else, and you couldn’t find Jihoon anywhere. After about an hour of being too overwhelmed to function, you found an empty bathroom, locked yourself in, and cried until you could hardly breathe.
You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a knock on the door and Jihoon’s voice hesitantly ask, “Is everything ok in there?”
“I’m fine,” you choked out, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t press further.
“Come on, star. What’s wrong?” the other person, who you now knew was Jihoon, asked.
“Nothing, Ji. I’m fine,” you mumbled, though you knew that he knew you were lying.
“Are you actively using the bathroom?” Jihoon asked hesitantly.
“No. Why?”
“Let me in.”
“Dude what the fuck?”
“I’m not leaving you alone to cry in a bathroom, star.”
“I’m not crying,” you choked out through your tears.
“You know as well as I do that’s bullshit. Can I come in?”
With a sigh, you unlocked the door and let Jihoon in. The small bathroom was cramped, with both of you uncomfortably close, but neither of you really cared. The moment the bathroom door was locked again, you threw your arms around your best friend’s neck and sobbed, too overwhelmed to even begin to try to explain how you were feeling. While you cried, he rubbed your back and mumbled soft reassurances, telling you that everything would be ok and that you weren’t alone as long as he had any say in the matter.
Eventually, your tears stopped, and he asked, “Do you feel better after getting it all out?”
You nodded and answered, “Yeah, I do. Thank you.”
Jihoon smiled at your answer and said, “How about we go back out there? I think there’s a line anyway.” You practically deflated at the suggestion, so he thought for a minute before he added, “Maybe we could find a sort-of secluded area outside?”
You smiled a little bit at that and said, “That sounds really nice.”
With that, Jihoon unlocked the bathroom door, took your hand, and led you outside to an unoccupied corner of Junhui’s backyard. You both sat down in the grass, laughing together when you stumbled, and you spent the rest of the night talking about anything and everything while the party around you seemed to fall away.
As you talked and laughed with Jihoon, you found yourself thinking about him once again in ways that you were certain that he didn’t think about you. Still, there was a hint of curiosity as to whether he liked anyone at all, considering you never heard him talk about anything but his classes and frustrations with his professors.
Figuring that nothing interesting would happen, you asked Jihoon, “So, do you like anyone right now?”
“Oh, well,” he began, clearly surprised by your question, “I mean there’s one person that I’m interested in. I don’t know if those feelings are reciprocated, though."
“Oh, who is it?” you asked, hoping not to seem too nosy.
A faint blush creeped up Jihoon’s cheeks, and a shy smile formed on his face as he tried to form the words to answer your question. It took a bit of time, but eventually he managed to say, “I don’t think you’d know them.”
“That’s ok. I’d still like to know if you’re comfortable sharing.”
Jihoon seemed to contemplate whether he should answer your question for an eternity before he mumbled something that you couldn’t quite hear. You asked him what he said, and he repeated, “It’s you.”
You were so surprised by his answer, you didn’t speak for what felt like several minutes. When you snapped out of your thoughts and noticed that Jihoon seemed upset, though, you smiled and said, “Hey, I’m sorry. You were probably worried about making me uncomfortable, right?” He nodded, and you said, “I like you too.”
With a shy smile on his face, Jihoon leaned closer to you and kissed your cheek before he said, “God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”
“Should I say it again, then?” you asked, a teasing grin on your face as you admired the blush on Jihoon’s cheeks. He nodded, and you added, “I like you. A lot. I have for a long time.”
With slightly more confidence than he had before, Jihoon kissed you. As you kissed him back, he pulled you closer, with every movement full of love and care, almost like he was worried about hurting you still.
When he pulled away, he smiled and said, “Do you wanna come back to my place with me tonight?”
“That sounds nice,” you answered softly.
With that, you and Jihoon both stood, and you took his hand before he walked you back to his car. When you got there, he opened the door for you and let you get in, and you thanked him. Then he quickly got into the driver’s seat and took you back to his apartment.
When you got back to Jihoon’s apartment, the two of you stumbled inside, still talking and laughing about every little thing that came to mind. After your jacket and shoes were off, he led you to his room, offering you some of his clothes to sleep in. You both got changed, and you climbed into bed with him. Once you found a comfortable position, you fell asleep pretty much instantly, content with the events of the night and happy to have someone like Jihoon in your life.
One of the things about Jihoon that became abundantly clear over the course of your relationship with him was his desire to be the best. He took pride in the fact that he was at the top of your graduating class, and his drive every time he spoke about a difficult project made you fall even harder for him. Still, you were worried about him. After all, he could get obsessive in his desire to be the best, and your concern that he’d unintentionally hurt himself by pushing too hard only grew as your relationship developed.
You tried a handful of times to talk to Jihoon about your concerns, but every time, he gave you the same explanation about how he knew his limits and always took care of himself. You knew that wasn’t true, considering all the sleepless nights you’d held him through and the number of times you had to remind him to eat because he was so engrossed in a project, but you didn’t argue. Instead, you just said, “I love you. I just want you to be happy and healthy.”
“And I’m both of those things. I appreciate the concern, star, but I’m ok.”
“Ok, I trust you.”
While the stress of your final year of college did put some strain on your relationship, you came out the other side closer than ever. You loved Jihoon, and you knew that he loved you. He always treated you with the utmost respect, and while he was the more serious one compared to you, he also knew how to make you laugh and when you needed to laugh. You were happier than you ever thought you could be, and you were certain that it would last forever.
After you both earned your degrees, you got married in a small, intimate ceremony with your closest family and friends, celebrating the relationship that you’d built together over the years. Every moment of that day was perfect. Everyone that you cared about was present, the venue was everything you’d dreamed of since childhood, and you were marrying the man of your dreams. As you looked into Jihoon’s eyes and declared that you would love him for the rest of your life, no matter what, you felt like the luckiest woman in the world.
For years, you continued to feel like you were the luckiest woman on Earth. You were married to the love of your life, you lived in an apartment that you loved, and you had the job of your dreams. After graduating college, you’d gotten a job teaching advanced English at your former high school, and you loved every minute. Sure, a lot of your students were disrespectful and annoying, and there were some parents that just refused to cooperate with you when all you wanted was to help, but you still loved the work itself, which made everything worth it.
Around the same time that you got a job as an English teacher, Jihoon got a job at the same school teaching physics. You always teased him because he taught the same class that the two of you had met in as teenagers, but it was all out of love. You knew that your husband was passionate about science, and he loved to help others. Even when the two of you were students instead of teachers, he was always tutoring your classmates, getting excited every time that he helped someone understand a difficult concept.
The problem was that his obsession with being the best didn’t fade even a little bit as he settled into life as a teacher rather than a student. Instead, it actually grew more intense, with your husband spending nearly all of his free time that wasn’t spent with you finding ways to prove that he was “better” than the other teachers. Whether he was complaining about how limiting his lesson plans were or staying up far later than he should to try to figure out the best way to explain material that his students struggled with, his passion was obvious, but so was his disregard for nearly everything that didn’t center around work.
The only exception was you. No matter how engrossed he was in his work, he always made sure to make time for you. You had weekly date nights, he constantly surprised you with small gifts that he always said made him think of you, and he never took his work-related stress out on you. Every moment with Jihoon made you feel loved.
At least, until it didn’t.
A few years into your marriage, everything changed, and it all started with something that you didn’t expect. Well, you expected the event, but not its effects on your life and marriage. On a seemingly ordinary day, during the morning announcements, your boss, Dr. Yoon, said, "And last but not least, students, don't forget to cast your votes for the district's 'Teacher of the Year' award. My office will be open for an hour after school ends to vote, and voting ends in two weeks. Thank you, and have a wonderful day."
The announcements ended, and the rest of the day went on like normal until you and Jihoon went home together after work. The moment the car doors were shut, you asked, "Who do you think is gonna win the teacher of the year award?"
"Me, obviously," Jihoon answered, radiating confidence with every word. "I mean, I've won four years in a row."
"That's true. It's fun to wonder, though."
Jihoon mumbled under his breath, but you didn't push to find out what he said. You'd had a long day, and you just wanted to go home and spend some time with your husband. When you finally got home, though, he went right to his desk and got to work preparing materials for the next day’s lesson, seeming to forget you were even there. You considered saying something, but you decided against it, too tired to worry about anything but getting some sleep.
Two weeks came and went, and the day of the "Teacher of the Year" ceremony arrived. Jihoon was more confident than you'd seen him in months, and as the two of you walked into the auditorium, you were sure that nothing could ruin his mood.
Of course, you were proven wrong when Dr. Yoon stepped onto the stage after Vice Principal Hong's introduction.
"Welcome, everyone," your boss said, "to the 'Teacher of the Year' award ceremony. Before I announce our winner, I’d like to take a moment to thank all of our faculty for their contributions to this district. Never forget that all of you have had a positive impact on our students and changed their lives for the better, even if only one person can win this award."
Everyone in the auditorium clapped, and once the applause died down, Dr. Yoon continued, “Without further ado, our Teacher of the Year is Mr. Kwon!”
After more applause, Dr. Yoon went on about Mr. Kwon’s achievements as the school’s health and P.E. teacher, and the more you listened to your boss speak about the lengths your co-worker went to help his students succeed, the more strongly you felt that he deserved to be recognized for his effort to make real change.
Jihoon, however, disagreed, and he was livid that Mr. Kwon won the award. He spent the entire car ride home after the ceremony ranting about how Mr. Kwon wasn’t a real teacher and how he didn’t deserve the “great honor” of winning the award. But as he went on, it became increasingly obvious that it wasn't about Mr. Kwon or his teaching abilities at all. It was about the fact that someone other than him won.
You knew from the moment that the ceremony was announced that Jihoon wanted to win. He’d always wanted to be the best, and his method of measuring whether he was the best had always been validation from other people. You also knew that there were other ways to measure success, and you really wanted to help your husband.
You didn't manage to get a word in about any of that on the way home. Or after you got home, for that matter. But to be fair, after the tenth time Jihoon said, “I just don't understand why it was him,” you gave up on trying to reassure him and just went to bed.
Before the ceremony, you never went a day without feeling loved. In the weeks following the ceremony, however, Jihoon seemed fine with the fact that your relationship had taken a backseat to his work. You tried to be understanding when he cancelled dates or came home late from meetings with parents, but you would have been lying if you’d said that it didn’t hurt to feel so unimportant to your husband, especially so suddenly.
It started small. You’d had a horrible day at work, and during your lunch break, you texted Jihoon with a request.
You: Can we get takeout and watch a movie tonight? I’ve been so tired and just wanna relax with you after work.
Jihoon: Of course, love. I think that sounds wonderful. Where do you wanna get the food from?
You: Maybe that Thai restaurant that just opened?
Jihoon: Sounds good! What do you want? I’ll pick it up on my way home from my last parent conference tonight.
You looked at the restaurant’s menu online and told Jihoon what you wanted. He stopped replying to your messages after that, but you decided not to worry about it, since he frequently stopped responding to texts when he was busy. Besides, you didn’t need a text to confirm that your husband loved you.
After you finished work for the day, you texted Jihoon again to thank him for picking up dinner and went home. Once you were home, you immediately changed into your favorite pajamas and started looking through the DVD collection that you now shared with Jihoon. After deciding on a cozy romance movie, you cleaned your living room and put the movie in Jihoon’s old DVD player.
You waited for Jihoon to come home for almost an hour before you finally decided to cook dinner for yourself and watch the movie without him. At first, you were disappointed, since you were looking forward to the quality time with your husband. But as you got sucked into the plot of a movie, you forgot that he was even there, just enjoying the quiet time spent with your mind somewhere else.
When Jihoon finally came home about a half hour after the movie ended, he looked guilty. Before you could even ask him where the hell he’d been, he said, “I’m sorry. I was leaving the last parent conference and noticed Mr. Boo struggling to put new decorations up, so I offered to help. I know we had plans, but I couldn’t just leave him hanging like that.”
“You didn’t think to give me a heads up?” you asked, frustrated and hurt that he basically ignored you for hours on end. He said nothing in response, so you said, “Whatever. I’m going to bed early. Good night, Jihoon.”
“Good night, star,” he mumbled as you walked away.
After the movie night incident, things with Jihoon got slightly better. He still stayed late for additional parent conferences or to help a coworker, but now he at least remembered to tell you when he was staying late. Sure, you were still frustrated by how much more time he spent away from home, but you tried to tell yourself that everything would be ok.
The only problem with that was that even when he was home, he didn’t really acknowledge you. Sure, you knew that he was busy, but you didn’t understand why it was so hard to respond to a simple question like, “What do you want to have for dinner?” or “Can we talk about the plan for dinner with your parents this weekend?”
In the end, though, despite your frustrations, you tried to give him some grace and support his attempts to get better at his job. After all, he had hurt you, but he was still your husband, and you loved him more than you’d ever thought loving another person was possible.
You chose to keep it simple, buying him a cup of coffee on your way to work. You brought it to his classroom before the day began, and he smiled and said, “Thank you so much.”
“No problem, I love you.”
He didn’t say it back, simply turning his computer on and getting ready for the day. You wanted to be hurt and disappointed that the first time he spoke to you that day was thanking you for the coffee, but you refused to let yourself get upset at work. So, you walked back to your own classroom and got ready for another day of teaching.
At the end of the day, you considered trying to talk to Jihoon about how you felt about being ignored unless you were doing something for him, but you decided against it almost immediately. After all, you still wanted to hope that things would get better and that he’d stop caring so much about proving he was good at the job you knew he excelled in.
After the coffee incident, you tried to stay hopeful. After all, you wanted to believe that all the times Jihoon had forgotten you or treated you like you were unimportant were just a brief rough patch. Besides, when you spoke to him about going to your parents’ anniversary dinner, he seemed genuinely happy to go, and a small part of you dared to hope that he would actually start to balance work and the rest of his life better.
Your hope deflated like a sad balloon, however, when you recieved the following text an hour before the school day ended:
Jihoon: I’m so sorry, star, but I can’t make it tonight. Surprise science department meeting to go over last minute cirriculum changes for next year.
You: Are you serious?
Jihoon: I know, I’m sorry.
You: Whatever, it’s fine. I’ll talk to you tonight
With that, you went about the rest of your day, trying not to think about the situation with Jihoon. Sure, you understood that last minute commitments were part of life, but that didn’t change how you felt about it. You were frustrated with the teachers that were in charge of coordinating the meetings, and you were disappointed that once again, you were taking a backseat to work.
None of the family members that attended your parents’ anniversary dinner knew that, though. As far as they could tell, you and Jihoon were the same happy couple that you’d always been. In fact, you played the part so well that you almost believed it yourself, except for the little voice in the back of your head that cried out for a husband that still treated you like he loved you.
You finally decided that you were done being the only one fighting for your marriage on your tenth anniversary. It should have been a day to celebrate the love that you and Jihoon had for each other, but instead, he sat at his laptop revising lesson plans and emailing parents. Just like always, you'd tried to be understanding, but in return, you got a complete lack of acknowledgement unless he was asking you for more coffee.
The only exception, of course, was when he asked, “Star, would you be ok with it if we moved our date night?”
“What?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even.
“I know you were looking forward to dinner and the movies, but I've gotta completely redo my lesson plans because of those stupid revisions.”
“Can't this wait until summer break or something since, you know, it's for next year?”
“I wish, but Yoon has been up my ass about getting it done by the last day of school.”
You were pretty sure that wasn't true, considering Dr. Yoon was notoriously lax about deadlines, but you were too tired to fight about it. So, you sighed and said, “Sure, I'll cancel the date.”
“Thank you. I love you,” Jihoon said. You were quiet in response, so he loudly and playfully repeated, “I love you.” Again, you were silent, so he asked, “You're not gonna say it back?”
“Jihoon, I'm tired,” you answered, all of your attempts at being calm going out the window.
“That doesn't mean you can't tell me that you love me.”
“Well, to be honest, I don't think I do anymore.”
“You've gotta be joking,” Jihoon said, his voice holding a mixture of hurt and confusion.
“I'm not. I'm sick of taking a backseat to your work.”
“My work is important to me, and you know that,” Jihoon spat.
“Yes, I do, but I also remember when I was important to you.”
“Oh come on, you have to know that you’re important to me.”
“I used to, but not anymore.”
There was a moment of silence before Jihoon said, “I just want to do well at work. Why is that a problem?”
“That’s not the problem. The problem is that you treat me like I’m nothing to you unless I’m bringing you a fucking cup of coffee or telling you that I remembered to cancel our date like you asked.”
“That’s not-”
“Don’t you dare tell me it isn’t true,” you interrupted. “You just asked me to cancel our goddamn anniversary date because of a deadline we both know is bullshit.”
“Today is our anniversary?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes, it is," you answered coldly. “Whatever, I’m leaving.”
“Are you coming back?”
You didn't answer as you grabbed your purse and walked out.
The next morning, you came home from your parents’ house feeling more scared than you wanted to admit. You knew that you had to talk to Jihoon about it, but you really didn’t want to. After all, it made the decision to walk away finally feel real, and you were afraid that if you acknowledged the pain, it would consume you.
When you finally made yourself open the door, Jihoon was sitting at the table with papers in his hands, tears streaming down his face. Before you could say anything, he said, “We have a prenup, and there are no kids to worry about, so it should be quick and painless. I’m not gonna fight you on it. I know I haven’t been a good husband.”
You briefly considered making a comment about how the painless part felt like a cruel joke. How everything about the end of your marriage was painful. How the pain was eating away at you and how you would have given anything to not feel it all. But instead, you just sighed and said, “Thank you for the last ten years. I’m sorry it had to end this way.” There was a moment of silence before you said, “Last night I made arrangements to stay with my sister until everything is settled.”
“That’s good.” There was a moment of silence before Jihoon asked, “So, this is it, then?”
“I think so,” you answered.
The divorce was in fact quick, with you and Jihoon coming to an agreement on how to split shared property in far less time than you expected. You were correct about the process being painless, but you were incredibly relieved when it was all over.
The months following your divorce came and went, and it was time for the “Teacher of the Year” award to be given again. You didn’t pay any attention to conversations about it or the speculation about who it would be, though, far too focused on managing your own life to even try, but just like you always did, you still attended the ceremony.
After an introduction that you didn’t pay attention to, Dr. Yoon said Jihoon’s name, and suddenly you were hanging onto every word. You listened as your boss praised your ex husband’s dedication to his job and how every moment of it paid off, and it was all you could do to stay in your seat and stop yourself from crying.
After the ceremony, you went right home, wondering if Jihoon was happy with himself. After all, he got exactly what he wanted, but this time, you wouldn’t be there to celebrate with him.
Thank you everyone for reading! If you liked this one, please make sure to like and reblog!
If you wanna check out my other works, my masterlist can be found here. If you wanna see what I'm working on, my upcoming works list is here. If you'd like to be tagged whenever I upload a new fic, my taglist form is here! You can also send me an ask or dm at any time to be added or removed.
Thank you again for reading, and have a wonderful day!
Today, K-Vanity Magazine would like to reserve this section to highlight one of our members. Before we continue any further, we’d like to wish the ever so talented and amazing Fran @baekhyyun a very Happy Birthday!! May your day be filled with joy and positivity.
🖤 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: Personal trainers Sansang х reader
🖤 𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: A little late-night workout never killed anyone… or is that what you’re thinking when you sign up for a private session with two unfairly hot personal trainers who can’t wait to show you exactly how deep and thorough their stretching techniques can get.
🖤 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 / 𝔄𝔲 / 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢: Shameless Smut, Gym! AU, Modern Setting!AU Non-Idol AU
🖤 ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI
🖤 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 21.5k
🖤 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Dom! San, Dom! Yeosang, sub!reader, obvious elements MxM, curvy reader, body image issues, intense sexual tension, enthusiastic consent, unprotected sex, threesome, a multitude of sex positions: full nelson, spooning, lotus, and more, camel toe, stomach bulge, lots of sperm, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, squirting, blow job, creampie, breeding kink, boobs slapping, pussy slapping, dirty talk, face fucking, pussy drunk, strength kink, overstimulation, oral, double pussy penetration, manhandling, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, praise kink,cum eating, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and more.
🖤 net: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity
🖤 𝔄|𝔑: After forever, I’ve finally managed to finish it. This is my first full-length with Yeosang too, and to be honest, I’m a bit nervous as I don’t know whether you’ll like it or not. That said, if you’re a fan of Crazy Form and Pretty Flushed and crave high-quality, top-notch fucking, then you’ve come to the right place. Everything I can say is that you’re definitely going to get wet – and I’m not talking about workouts, however intense they might be.
🖤 ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 at the end of the post.
🖤 ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 - check for more
🖤𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖉 - Your love makes all this possible
The gym hummed with that busy familiar rhythm that you’d come to know too well over the last few months - the low pulse of an unobtrusive track threading through hidden speakers like a slow, deliberate heartbeat, punctuated by the occasional sharp clink of weight plates finding their home and bursts of laughter rising like warm, effervescent bubbles through the golden, humid air. Heavy glass pendant lamps hung from the exposed concrete beams, casting soft pools of light that slid across the dark, gleaming wood floors and caught on every polished surface.
Mirrors stretched across every wall, turning the space into an endless, glittering labyrinth where every movement was reflected back at you from a dozen angles. Treadmills stood like obedient sentinels along one side while cable machines and leather-padded benches clustered in the centre, black iron and supple hide waiting in stillness, ready to be claimed.
You had been coming here for months, carving out these precious evening hours between work and the constant pressure of everything else, chasing a version of yourself that felt stronger, sharper, more yours.
Yet the results remained stubbornly modest.
Your body still carried its soft, generous curves with unapologetic fullness: the plush swell of your hips and the full, heavy weight of your ass that swayed with a subtle, tempting jiggle on every step; the generous, heavy mounds of your breasts straining against the stretched fabric of your training crop top. The stretchy leggings clung like a second skin, moulding to the thick, soft flesh of your thighs and pressing so intimately against the plump, puffy lips of your pussy that the delicate seam created a faint but unmistakable camel-toe — shameless and impossible to ignore, always leaving you hyper-aware of how vulgarly and vulnerably your body looked, no matter how many times you tugged at the fabric.
You smoothed your palms slowly down the front of your thighs, fingers dragging over the taut fabric that hugged every curve, and exhaled a quiet, frustrated sigh.
Maybe you were simply doing it wrong. The thought had circled more than once while you stood in the locker-room mirrors, your cheeks blooming with fresh heat as you watched sweat trace a glistening path down your neck and disappear between your breasts after another intense but apparently useless workout. You wanted change. You wanted to feel attractive in your own skin — truly, viscerally attractive. But right now all you felt was the quiet, persistent ache of not quite belonging here… and the deeper, more secret ache of how long it had been since anyone had touched you with real hunger.
The bright chatter of other girls drifted through the humid air of the locker room, their voices carrying over the rhythmic sounds of zips and locks clicking shut. Their laughter held that effortless post-workout glow, light and carefree, like exotic birds calling to one another in the steam-thick warmth.
“God, my bum’s finally got some real definition after all that training.” One of them said, grinning as she playfully snapped the thin strap of her thong. The sharp sound of elastic against bare skin cracked through the humid space for a brief, filthy second before the delicate string vanished completely between the plump, rounded cheeks of her ass.
Her friend gave a low, knowing laugh, running manicured fingers through her long, damp hair.
“Shouldn’t you be thanking San and Yeosang for that?” She teased, voice light but laced with something hotter. “Those two haven’t given you a moment’s mercy with these intense sessions lately. Though with trainers like them, I suppose you don’t mind getting a little… sweaty.” The way she said it made it perfectly clear she was imagining an entirely different kind of workout.
“You’re right, I don’t mind at all.” The first girl replied with a soft, satisfied giggle. “They could train me, stretch me out, do whatever the hell they wanted. Have you seen them without their shirts on? It should be illegal. All that sweat sliding down their abs, the way their pants cling so shamelessly to the thick, heavy outlines of their cocks… That alone makes it worth working my ass off in here every single day.” Her voice dripped with raw, almost reverent satisfaction.
“You’re such a lucky little bitch.” Her friend teased, eyes sparkling with pure mischief. “I still can’t get into their class — their schedule is booked solid for months. And you know I wouldn’t say no to a private session with one of them… or both at once, if you know what I mean.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively and delivered a playful, sharp slap to her friend’s bare ass. The sound cracked through the humid space far too filthy for a public locker room and the girl’s soft, startled laugh only made it worse.
You stood there, half-hidden by the row of lockers, and felt your body betray you in the most humiliating, delicious way. A traitorous little clench rippled through your core, making the seam of your leggings press more insistently against your swelling, puffy pussy lips.
Heat bloomed low in your belly and spread outward, slow and molten, while your treacherous mind supplied vivid, unwanted images: San’s intense dark eyes raking over your soft curves as he corrected your form, Yeosang’s elegant fingers lingering a little too long on your waist, both of them watching you with that quiet, knowing hunger the girls had just described so vividly.
It had been so long since anyone had touched you properly. Really touched you. And now the thought of their hands — strong, sure, demanding — “stretching you out” in ways that had nothing to do with flexibility made your thighs press together instinctively, which only made the pressure against your clit worse.
You swallowed hard, cheeks burning hotter than any workout had ever managed, and wondered, with a shameful little thrill, what it would feel like if San and Yeosang ever looked at you the way those girls clearly imagined them looking.
You finished dressing in silence, the blush still burning high on your cheeks like a brand you couldn’t rub away, and stepped back out into the main hall. Almost against your will, your gaze drifted toward the far corner where the pendant lights spilled like molten amber across the dark wood floors.
And there they were.
Yeosang stood side-on to you, offering an unobstructed view of his almost angelically handsome face, still flushed a soft rose from exertion. He dabbed slowly at the sweat on his neck with a small white towel, the motion unhurried, almost languid, before he leaned down, picked up his black sports bottle, and brought the straw to his lips.
Those plump, pink lips sealed around it in a way that looked far too lewd for public eyes, and he drank in slow, rhythmic pulls, the elegant column of his throat working visibly with each swallow. A single drop of water escaped the corner of his mouth and trailed down the graceful line of his neck, mingling with the glistening sheen of sweat already coating his skin. The sight sent a molten pulse low in your belly — warm, heavy, and impossible to ignore.
San stood next to him, tall and effortlessly magnetic, the kind of man who made the air feel denser just by existing. A soft, boyish smile curved his mouth, carving deep, sweet dimples into his cheeks, while his catlike eyes remained half-lidded and seductive. A faint strawberry flush still coloured his skin from the workout.
He leaned in closer than necessary, murmuring something low and private against Yeosang’s ear, his broad palm resting low on the small of his friend’s back — fingers splayed possessively, the tips brushing just above the firm curve of his ass. The touch was too familiar, too intimate. It spoke of tangled sheets and bodies still slick with sweat, of quiet, filthy claims made in the dark and the lingering heat that followed long after.
A deeper blush bloomed hotter across your cheeks as you quickly turned away, heart stuttering like you had been caught staring at something forbidden. The endless mirrors threw your flushed, guilty reflection back at you from every angle while hot, filthy little flashes of the two men flooded your mind — Yeosang’s plump lips wrapped so obscenely around that straw, the slow, rhythmic working of his throat, San’s broad hand resting low and possessive on his friend’s back. You shouldn’t have thought of them that way. Not at all.
You snapped yourself out of it, banishing the unwelcome heat, and hurried toward the exit. Your thighs pressed together with every rushed step, the friction only making the warmth between them worse, the seam of your leggings rubbing against your still-sensitive, slightly swollen pussy lips with every movement.
Later that evening you curled up on Sohee’s couch, a tub of half-melted frozen yoghurt balanced in your lap, finally letting the day’s frustration spill out to the one person who always made you feel safe enough to say it out loud.
“I don’t think it makes any sense.” You told her softly, your voice laced with quiet defeat as your fingers sank into the plush, milky softness of your thigh. “No matter how much I work out, my body just stays like this. All soft and jiggly and… ugh.” The words tumbled from your pretty lips with a little pout.
Sohee laughed, warm and bright, setting her spoon aside. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer, voice dropping into a teasing purr.
“Nonsense, baby. You look way too delicious to touch.” She tilted her head, studying you with open appreciation. “If you keep squeezing that soft, juicy thigh right in front of me like that, I swear I might just eat you out.” She licked a slow streak of blueberry yoghurt from the corner of her mouth, her tongue dragging deliberately along the edge of her lip with a playful, hungry little grin.
“Stop it!” You protested with a flustered laugh, swatting her arm as fresh heat bloomed across your cheeks. “It’s not funny. I’m actually serious…”
“I’m serious too, baby.” Sohee said, her voice gentling even as her eyes stayed warm with understanding. She knew exactly how sensitive you were about this. “Not every guy wants those hard, lean bodies, you know? Some of them crave exactly what you’ve got — all that pretty softness under their hands.” She shifted closer and gave your thigh a light, affectionate squeeze. “But if it’s really bothering you that much… just ask San and Yeosang for help. Even though they’re fully booked, I’ll have a word with them for you. They’re the best. And they often take the night shifts, so you won’t have to deal with the crowds or your crazy schedule. Trust me, you won’t regret it.”
Her words settled deep under your skin — sweet, tempting, and dangerously seductive. The same names from the locker room flickered once more in the back of your mind as the night stretched long and quiet around you.
You hesitated, spoon paused mid-air above the slowly melting frozen yoghurt. There was truth in what Sohee had said, you couldn’t deny that, but you still couldn’t shake the shyness and deep embarrassment twisting low in your stomach.
They were men — tall, strong, unapologetically attractive, with broad shoulders and stunningly sculpted bodies that spoke of raw power and years of disciplined training. You had caught glimpses of them during those late sessions, muscles glistening under the lights as they moved with confident, masculine grace. The mere idea of them watching you so closely — correcting your stance, guiding your form through every movement, their hands adjusting your soft body — felt far too exposing in a way that made your cheeks burn.
“I’ll think about it,” you said evasively, tongue slowly licking the melting yoghurt from the spoon in a small, absent motion. Still, her words lingered, curling low and warm in your belly long after you’d gone home and slipped beneath the sheets.
You returned to the gym for a few more sessions over the next couple of weeks, slipping back into that familiar rhythm. You put in extra time whenever your schedule allowed, focusing intently on your form and pushing through every movement with quiet determination, all while trying your best to shove Sohee’s suggestion out of your head.
But no matter how hard you tried, her words kept echoing in your mind, refusing to fade. Your gaze kept drifting across the large, brightly lit space, unconsciously searching the far corners where the machines gleamed, hoping for even a glimpse of them.
Right there, they were leading a session with effortless confidence, commanding the space. It seemed they had become even more attractive than the last time you had seen them.
Today San wore a cap pulled low over his eyes, but it did nothing to hide the sweet, flushed blush sitting high on his chiselled cheekbones. His tight T-shirt clung to his frame like a second skin, perfectly outlining every ridge and curve of his broad chest and sculpted abs, the fabric stretching deliciously each time his muscles flexed as he helped a client on the cable row. San's voice was low and steady as he explained the exercises, calm and commanding.
Beside him, Yeosang moved with that quiet, precise grace that made your breath catch. His soft chestnut hair was slightly damp at the ends from the intense sets, the silky strands clinging to his forehead and flushed cheeks as he demonstrated a weighted, deep, controlled squat. His pretty rosy lips parted just enough to look obscenely inviting — almost too tempting to kiss — while his long, fluffy lashes fluttered gently. Those beautiful doe-like eyes caught the bright fluorescent light as he earnestly explained the movement. A thin, glistening trail of sweat slowly traced down the side of his neck while his broad shoulders shimmered under the lights with a fine sheen, making him look almost too devastatingly beautiful to be real.
You watched the easy, familiar way their bodies moved around each other — shoulders brushing, a small nod loaded with intimacy and something hot and sharp twisted deep in your stomach.
A sudden wave of heat flooded hot and slick between your legs from that small, seemingly innocent interaction. Your cheeks burned a deep crimson as you bit down hard on your plump lower lip, forcing your eyes back to your own weights while your heart hammered wildly in your chest.
One evening, as the gym was already practically empty and the lights cast longer, softer shadows across the polished floors, you finished your final intense set. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your breath came in short, warm pants, and every muscle burned with exhaustion. You could barely stay on your feet. Sweat had gathered along the delicate seam of your leggings right over your crotch, making the puffy outline of your pussy even more obvious than usual — the thin fabric clinging shamelessly, leaving nothing to the imagination.
That was exactly when San appeared beside you. He held out a chilled bottle of water, the cap already twisted open, his broad hand steady.
“Hey, take it easy, sweetie.” He said, his deep, rich voice warm and caring as he tilted his head gently, a few strands of hair falling softly across his face, making him look boyishly handsome while still radiating that strong, unmistakable masculine charm. “You don’t need to push yourself so hard. It’ll never give you the results you want if you burn out.” San's eyes held yours a beat longer than necessary, genuine concern mixed with something deeper flickering in his gaze.
“Yes… I think you’re right. Thank you.” You uttered softly, tentatively accepting the bottle.
A deep, shy blush spread across your cheeks as his warm fingers brushed against yours, that brief contact sending an unexpected spark straight down between your legs. You shifted awkwardly, squeezing your thighs together more firmly as you stared at the floor, trying to hide the heat blooming low in your belly.
“If you ever need help — real help — one or both of us will be here. Just say the word.” He stepped back smoothly, giving you a soft nod as he turned to go, when Yeosang’s soft, melodic laugh drifted across the nearly empty hall.
San’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile at the sound, as if he had heard that laugh countless times before in far more private moments. That simple, familiar reaction only made the pull inside you grow stronger, hotter.
By the time you were leaving the gym that night, the decision had settled inside you: you would book a proper personal training slot with them.
Not because of the excited whispers you had overheard in the locker room, or the way their closeness had been lingering in your thoughts. But because, for the first time, someone had noticed you were trying too hard to cope with this on your own. The mirrors caught the soft sway of your hips one last time as you stepped out into the evening air, a quiet tension still humming low and warm inside you.
So here you were — still feeling a little nervous and full of doubt, yet strangely excited, your heart beating just a little faster than the situation warranted. After weeks of deep reflection, sleepless nights filled with self-doubt and embarrassment, and Sohee’s velvet-tongued encouragement, you had finally booked the trial session.
The familiar bustling rhythm of the gym wrapped around you the moment you walked in, and for a second you paused, fingers tightening around the strap of your sports bag. You kept telling yourself it was just another workout. Nothing more. But the thought of being so vulnerable in front of someone, letting them evaluate and guide your body, especially when that someone was San or Yeosang, had left a delicate flutter low in your belly.
You ran your hands lightly over the front of your crop top and black sports leggings, trying to smooth out imaginary creases and once again regretfully noting how tightly the elastic fabric hugged the plush swell of your hips. The small gesture was meant to calm you, but it only made you even more anxious about how you looked.
However, it was already too late to back out, especially when you caught sight of both of them waiting for you at the front desk. They greeted you right on time, and in person they were even more impressive than the last time you bumped into them in the gym.
It was almost unfair how devastatingly good they still looked even after several intense sessions.
San stood with his weight slightly shifted to one side, one hand resting casually on the counter. It was the easy, grounded way he held himself, like someone who was completely comfortable in his own body. His hair was soft and tousled as if he had just run his hand over it, falling in gentle waves over those sharp, feline eyes that crinkled warmly at the corners when he offered you a sweet, dimpled smile, the kind that hinted at a gentle nature beneath all that carved muscle.
Yeosang, on the other hand, carried himself with a quiet kind of elegance. Up close, he was even more breathtaking. His posture was straight without being stiff, and there was a calm precision in the way he moved. The tips of his silky reddish-brown hair brushed lightly against his faintly rosy cheeks and when the light caught his eyes, they shifted to a rich amber hue, warm and whiskey-deep, drawing you in with a quiet intensity that made something soft twist behind your ribs.
They introduced themselves anyway — even though there was no need to, since you already knew their names, voices low and professional, and offered firm yet gentle handshakes that lingered just long enough to feel reassuring rather than intimidating. In fact, everything turned out to be far less scary than you had expected, which was a genuine relief.
Just as Sohee had promised, the boys were real sweethearts — respectful, calm, and patient as they explained the simple movement screening they had planned. There was no pressure, no lingering stares full of silent judgment. Only two trainers who genuinely seemed to want you to feel comfortable in your own body.
They led you to a more secluded corner of the gym, toward the open mats near the treadmills designed for individual sessions. High mirrors ran along the wall, reflecting every angle of your plush curves framed between their sculpted bodies.
San asked you a few general questions to assess your fitness level while Yeosang suggested starting with something basic and gradually increasing the load. It sounded ideal to you. After a short warm-up led by San, Yeosang stepped forward and demonstrated a simple bodyweight squat with quiet, clear instructions. His movements were precise and effortless as he dropped low and rose again.
“Keep your chest up, weight through your heels.” Yeosang said gently. “And pay attention to your breathing — otherwise you’ll tire yourself out too quickly.” His calm, competent tone eased the tension in your shoulders a little more.
San stood a respectful distance away, notepad in hand, watching attentively as you mirrored the movement and jotting quick notes on the points you still needed to work on.
When you finished the set and straightened up, breathing a little harder, the light burn in your thighs grounded you for a moment. San gave you a small, encouraging nod before stepping over to Yeosang to discuss the next steps with him. You offered him a grateful smile as you wiped the light sheen of sweat from your brow and your gaze drifted to the mirror almost on its own, and a soft blush warmed your cheeks as you caught the moment between them.
They stood close, their postures relaxed in a way that spoke of long familiarity. San leaned just a fraction closer than necessary as he whispered something low into Yeosang’s ear, his broad hand resting briefly on his friend’s muscular shoulder, his thumb pressing slightly into the supple, heated skin in a familiar, wordless exchange while they discussed the next exercise.
The touch looked warm and familiar, almost intimate in its casual ease — nothing overt, nothing that screamed anything more than close colleagues or friends. Yet it carried the lingering warmth of something deeper, like two bodies that had long since learned each other’s rhythms in the quiet hours after the gym lights dimmed.
“You shouldn’t be noticing that,” the thought bloomed in your mind. Shame and curiosity tangled together until you couldn’t quite tell them apart, and your cheeks flushed with heat as you quickly looked away.
After that, the training session carried on as if nothing had happened. Yeosang stepped closer to adjust the angle of your shoulders, his touch light and almost tender against your upper arm. Those gorgeous amber eyes met yours for a brief, steady second that made your pulse skip. San went back to monitoring you, picking up the notepad once more. His cute dimples flashed as he bit down gently on his plump lower lip, concentrating while he jotted something down.
The boys seemed to truly listen to every request you made, keeping a close eye on you and gently guiding you through each stage. Whenever you needed help they corrected your form with patience, explaining everything again without a hint of frustration. San’s voice was smooth as melted honey whenever he praised you, and there was something soft about the way Yeosang’s expression warmed when you got the movement right on the first try — like he was genuinely pleased in a way that went beyond just doing his job.
Nevertheless, the small, private gestures between them continued to catch your attention — a shared glance that lingered a fraction too long, San’s fingers brushing Yeosang’s wrist as he passed the water bottle, and the tender way Yeosang reached up to brush a few damp strands of hair away from San’s eyes. It hinted at a bond that felt warmer than simple friendship, yet somehow it only made the session feel safer, like you were being looked after by two people who already understood each other on a level most never reached.
By the time the trial wrapped, the gym’s golden light had begun to shift into softer evening hues. You finished your last set, straightened up, and wiped the sweat from your skin with a towel as the three of you naturally gathered near the mats.
The conversation came easily as you talked quietly about the session — what had felt good, what you might want to work on next, and how the hour had flown by. San summed things up, praising you once again for your efforts, and Yeosang offered you a four-week membership if you wanted to continue training under their guidance.
There was no pressure at all. In fact, at one point they both mentioned that you were a quick learner and, with the right approach, you’d eventually be able to manage without their help. You thanked them quietly, feeling surprisingly comfortable in their presence despite the stubborn, deep blush that still refused to fade from your cheeks.
All your worries had turned out to be unfounded. San and Yeosang were exactly as Sohee had described: respectful, attentive, the kind of trainers who made you want to come back not out of obligation, but because they made you feel seen and safe in a way no other man ever had. It wasn’t the kind of attention that left you feeling small or inadequate. It was the kind that made you feel wanted, cared for, and completely at ease in your own body.
You paused at the door for the goodbye, offering them a soft, grateful smile as you confirmed you’d be taking the four-week subscription. That was when you felt it — their gazes lingering on you a heartbeat longer than professional courtesy allowed, warm and intent beneath the golden spill of the pendant lights.
They were men, after all. It was impossible for them not to notice how pleasant and appetizing your soft, milky body looked in the tight black leggings that hugged the plush swell of your hips and the gentle curve of your ass, the cropped top clinging just enough to the rise and fall of your breasts with each quiet breath.
San’s tongue darted out to wet his lips in a slow, unconscious swipe. His cat-like eyes traced the soft movement of your chest while the rosy flush on his cheeks deepened into something darker, sweeter. At the same moment, Yeosang’s hand came up to squeeze his shoulder with that same knowing pressure, his amber gaze following the sway of your hips as you turned to leave.
The gesture was small, almost protective, yet it carried the lingering warmth of two bodies that understood each other far beyond simple friendship — something hotter, more seductive, like a quiet current running between them. A silent exchange that made your own cheeks heat as you stepped out into the cool evening air.
You told yourself it was nothing. Just the natural appreciation of two trainers who had spent the hour studying your form. Nothing more. Yet the image lingered in the back of your mind all the way home — San’s dimpled smile replaced by something hungrier for a split second, Yeosang’s fingers pressing just a fraction too possessively into San’s muscle, both of them watching you walk away with that quiet, suppressed spark of interest.
The nascent tension hummed low and sweet beneath everything, waiting for the next session, the next correction, the next quiet moment when their eyes might linger on you again.
By the time two weeks had slipped by in a haze of warm golden pendant lights and the steady, addictive rhythm of steel meeting leather, you were absolutely thrilled — the kind of quiet, bubbling excitement that made your perception of your own soft curves feel lighter somehow, even as your body still carried that plush, yielding sweetness you had once despaired over.
The trial session had blossomed into a full four-week package. What used to be solitary, gruelling evening workouts had shifted seamlessly into nighttime sessions in friendly company — a rhythm that suited your busy schedule perfectly.
The gym at night felt like an entirely different world: practically empty save for a handful of solitary souls scattered across the treadmills and cable machines, the low bass of the music softer now, the heavy glass lamps casting a more subdued, warm glow. No crowds. No prying eyes. Just the faint whiff of sweat mixed with something musky and masculine, and the lingering smoky-sweet scent of the aroma diffuser in the air — and the two men who had somehow become the centre of your evenings without ever stepping over a single professional line.
San and Yeosang had settled into your routine with the quiet ease of people who had always belonged there, their presence so light and comfortable that it felt as though you had known them for years rather than mere weeks.
They were sweet without ever tipping into saccharine — pleasant in that effortless way, thoughtful in the small, unspoken details. Yeosang always remembered the exact ache in your lower back that you had mentioned the week before, quietly adjusting the cable machine to accommodate it without needing to be reminded. San, meanwhile, brought you chilled water at precisely the right moments and handed you fresh towels, constantly checking in with gentle questions about how you were feeling so you would never push yourself too far.
They remained impeccably professional even when the occasional light tease slipped through their careful composure. San’s deep, sweet dimples would flash whenever he caught you grimacing through a particularly stubborn set, his magnificent cat-like eyes sparkling with undisguised mischief as he coaxed you in that warm, honeyed voice that wrapped around you like velvet: “Come on, princess… one more for me. You’ve got this.” The nickname always landed so casually, slipping past your defences with effortless charm, yet it never failed to send a warm, unexpected flutter low in your stomach.
Yeosang was quieter, his amber eyes holding a skilfully controlled intensity that softened whenever he watched you push through a difficult set. In the right light they turned the deep, burnished colour of expensive aged whiskey, lending his already striking face an even more captivating quality. He always asked about your day in that smooth, deep voice — silk and smoke wrapped around every word — and the striking contrast between his angelic features and that sensual, almost indecent timbre never failed to send a shiver down your spine. He listened with genuine attention, offering small nods and gentle follow-up questions that pulled something tender and first-love soft behind your ribs.
Without realising it, you had begun to absorb small pieces of them into your own life, so that you found yourself sharing San’s quiet passion for late-night drives along the river and understanding Yeosang’s dry humour far more deeply whenever it slipped out in those perfectly timed one-liners.
The three of you had even started creating your own inside jokes — light, sparkling things that belonged only to the three of you, and they slowly turned the heavy weight of training into something that felt less like work and more like a shared ritual. The nighttime emptiness of the gym only made it easier to sink into their guidance. It no longer felt like a chore. Now you found yourself glancing at the clock throughout the day, already looking forward to these quiet evenings with your two trainers.
You had also begun to notice the small, delicious ways your body was responding to the steady rhythm of training. The plush give of your hips and ass had grown more resilient, now filling out the tight black leggings in a way that felt seductive rather than simply soft. It was a subtle shift, but one that gave you a little more confidence with every session. The faint outline of camel-toe had not disappeared, yet you no longer perceived it with the same sharp self-consciousness — especially after Sohee had casually mentioned that some men found it very arousing. Your friend had even tried to show you a few porn videos on the subject, and you had barely managed to talk her out of it, blushing furiously while insisting that you believed her.
Your breasts no longer felt so heavy and cumbersome either. They had grown more elastic and toned, and more than once you had caught yourself thinking that you liked the way they sat pleasantly within the neckline of your sports bra. And even though you still blushed deeply and looked away when boys’ eyes moved over you in quiet assessment, the warmth that rose to your cheeks now felt different — comfortable, almost pleasant. It was the kind of attention that made you feel seen rather than exposed.
The bond between San and Yeosang continued to reveal itself in small, wordless ways that only made the sessions feel intriguing. Sometimes San would rest a hand on Yeosang’s shoulder as they discussed your form, his thumb brushing once in a quiet, familiar gesture of agreement. Other times Yeosang would lean in close to murmur something against San’s ear while they stood behind you, their heads angled together for a brief moment. Once, when San passed him a resistance band, Yeosang’s fingers closed lightly over his wrist and lingered there just long enough to feel intentional.
These touches were never overt, never anything more than two people who knew each other deeply, yet they carried a quiet warmth that made something flutter low in your belly.
“They’re just… close,” you told yourself, the thought drifting through your mind like the first gentle stir of something you weren’t quite ready to name.
By the time the bond between San and Yeosang had already begun to feel like a quiet, steady presence in the background of every session, the weeks spent together had only made the air around the three of you feel warmer. The gym at night had become its own little world, and the two of them had settled into your routine with the same ease as if they had always been part of it.
Discussions had slowly shifted from pure instruction to something warmer and more personal. San would tease you lightly whenever you gravitated toward the same machine first, his voice rich and enveloping as he grinned and said, “Creature of habit, huh?” Yeosang, on the other hand, often shared quick, ridiculous stories about clients from the day shift that made all three of you laugh until the mirrors echoed with the sound. They were comfortable together. Pleasant. Sweet in a way that made the long hours after dark feel like the best part of your day instead of the hardest.
Yet beneath the easy rhythm, something else had begun to take shape. Though the gym stayed nearly empty around you, the air between the three of you had grown thicker with a quiet tension — the kind that hummed beneath every shared laugh and every lingering glance caught in the mirrors. Their touches stayed light and instructional, warm but never lingering too long on the soft curves of your body. Still, the atmosphere around you felt heavier lately, charged with something unspoken. It was as if a slow, hypnotic pull had settled between the three of you — something beautifully inevitable that had yet to spark into flame.
But what you had no idea about was that each of them carried their own private storm.
Bold, heated thoughts that thickened their blood and made their cocks twitch traitorously beneath the thin fabric of their black tanks whenever your soft, voluptuous body moved between them.
San’s dimpled smile would flash innocently enough during a set, but later, alone in the locker room after you’d left, his mind would drift to pinning you against the cool mirrors, hands sinking into the plush give of your ass while he buried himself deep. Yeosang’s amber eyes stayed gentle and focused on your form, yet in the shower afterward, water streaming down his sculpted chest, he imagined those same eyes locked on yours as he fed you his cock inch by slow inch, stretching your gentle sweetness wide until you dripped around him.
And somewhere in the quiet overlap of their thoughts, the fantasies always merged — sharing you between them, long nights of hot, deep fucking where you were caught in the middle of their bodies, ruined and filled and claimed until thick, milky cum leaked down your trembling thighs.
Those thoughts slipped in and out of their conversations in the pleasant silence of the locker room as they changed, in the steam of the showers where their shoulders brushed with far too much familiarity, and late at night in the dark of their bedroom — hands wrapped around their aching cocks while they whispered filthy promises to each other about the pretty little star who had no idea how badly they wanted to breed her.
This slow burn could have continued for a long time beneath perfect professionalism, if it hadn’t begun to physically irritate them — a constant, low throb of frustration that made their touches a fraction more deliberate, their gazes a fraction heavier when they thought you weren’t looking.
The heavy doors of the gym yielded beneath your hurried hands with ease, swinging open to admit you into the warm, golden-lit space just as the last remnants of the evening chill clung to your skin.
Your cheeks were already flushed a deep, dewy rose from the frantic dash through the city streets, and your breath came in soft, quick little gasps that made the cropped top feel far too tight against the rapid rise and fall of your chest. One trembling hand pressed instinctively to the upper swell of your breasts as though to calm the wild rhythm beneath, while the other smoothed futilely down the front of your tight black leggings, trying to compose yourself into something more presentable.
The fabric had grown slightly damp during your rush, and now it clung to you like a second skin — molding itself to the generous, plush curves of your ass, stretching taut across the rounded flesh with every step. The seam nestled insistently between your thighs, pressing right against the plump, sensitive lips of your cunt in a way that sent tiny, unwelcome sparks of awareness through your body no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.
“I’m so, so sorry.” You managed, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. A few delicate strands of your soft, beautiful hair had slipped free of the ponytail, framing your face and brushing against your heated cheeks despite your repeated attempts to tuck them back with unsteady fingers.
The flush had spread lower, painting a warm, inviting glow across the graceful line of your neck and spilling down onto the smooth skin of your chest — whether from exertion or from the sudden, acute self-consciousness of standing before them like this, you couldn’t tell.
San’s gaze moved over you slowly, taking in every detail of your flustered state with a small, knowing smile that curved his lips in a way that made your stomach tighten.
“Everything’s fine, princess.” He said, the low, velvet timbre of his voice wrapping around the words like a caress. He waved off your concern with an easy, graceful flick of his hand, the gesture somehow both reassuring and hot in its casual confidence.
Yeosang’s dark, enchanting eyes softened with something far more playful and far more dangerous as he watched you try to steady yourself.
“And anyway,” He added, the teasing lilt in his voice sending a fresh wave of heat rolling straight through your veins. “Tonight is all for you. No one else booked the late-night slot. The place is ours.”
What followed was the familiar rhythm of your sessions, yet tonight the air itself felt thicker, wrapped in a charged undercurrent that had been steadily building over the past four weeks and now hummed just beneath every movement.
Low, warm laughter wove through the golden glow of the late-night lighting, mingling with the low, throbbing bass that pulsed from the speakers and seemed to vibrate directly into your bones. The endless mirrors multiplied every soft, milky curve of your body, framing you between the two tall, sculpted forms of your trainers as you stepped onto the mats near the treadmills.
It wasn’t anything overt. Not yet. But the subtle shift in the atmosphere wrapped itself around you like warm silk.
When San moved in close to correct your stance during the first stretch, his broad, warm palm settled at the small of your back, the heat of it seeping through the thin fabric of your top and lingering far longer than any professional correction required.
His fingers spread slightly, pressing with just enough intent that you felt the sheer size of his hand against your waist, the quiet strength in it, and your body responded before your mind could catch up — a subtle, involuntary arch into the touch, a soft catch in your breath, the way your thighs pressed together almost instinctively as a slow, liquid warmth began to gather and bloom between them.
Yeosang’s fingers brushed the delicate inside of your wrist a moment later when he passed you the water bottle, the contact light yet unmistakably deliberate, his thumb grazing the fluttering pulse point there in a way that sent a sharp little thrill racing up your arm.
The cool condensation on the bottle did nothing to ease the sudden flare of heat that settled deep and heavy in your core, and long after he withdrew his hand your skin continued to tingle with the ghost of his touch. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from letting out the soft, needy sound that wanted to escape.
Their eyes met over your shoulder in one of those loaded, knowing exchanges that always left you feeling stripped bare, as if they could see straight through every layer of your composure to the growing, desperate want you tried so hard to hide. Heat pooled low and insistent in your belly, your nipples tightening into sensitive peaks against the fabric of your cropped top, and you fought the urge to cross your arms over your chest.
You told yourself it was nothing. This was just ordinary training — the final session before your package ended, the last time you would stand between them like this. It meant nothing that San’s touch seemed to brand itself into your overheated skin or that Yeosang’s gaze felt like a physical stroke tracing the lines of your body in the mirrors.
“This is just training,” the thought looped in your mind even as your body betrayed you with every shallow breath, every subtle clench of your inner walls around nothing, every fresh rush of slick warmth that made the seam of your leggings feel even more intrusive, more knowing against the silky, sensitive folds of your cunt.
It had been so long since anyone had touched you the way you craved, since anyone had looked at you with that dark, hungry edge that made you feel small and desired and a little out of control all at once. “It’s all in your head. They’re still just your trainers.”
But San and Yeosang knew better.
They had been counting down the days to this final session, and tonight the professional boundaries that had held them back were about to mean very little.
The irritation that had been building for weeks had sharpened into something far more insistent for San and Yeosang — a constant, heavy throb that made their cocks twitch and strain against the thin fabric of their black sweatpants with every innocent sway of your hips, every soft blush that painted your sweet cheeks when they teased you lightly about your form.
You were so cute in your shy, responsive way, and they could no longer decide what they craved more: to pull you into their arms and finally feel all that plush juiciness and softness yielding against their bodies, or to ruin you completely, to leave you trembling and overflowing with their cum for hours.
Tonight, with the gym almost deserted and the heavy doors locked against the outside world, that hunger felt much stronger, almost unbearable. The air itself seemed thick with it — luxurious, forbidden, dripping with the promise of everything they had been holding back for weeks.
This was the last session of your block. Their final night pretending they didn’t want to destroy you in the most exquisite ways. And as the golden lights spilled over your plush body like liquid champagne, highlighting every soft curve and every dewy flush, the tension finally, slowly, began to crack open.
The session had slipped into that measured rhythm you had always secretly longed for, the near-empty gym wrapped in nothing but the low golden lights and the faint, echoing sound of your own breathing. Yet tonight you could no longer ignore how much thicker the tension had grown, how much heavier it pressed against your skin like fire coiled just beneath the surface of every glance and every brush of contact.
San and Yeosang moved around you with the same effortless professional grace they always had, but their touches had grown bolder, more deliberate — impossible to dismiss no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself otherwise.
San’s strong hands settled on your body again, this time guiding your hips into alignment with a slow, noticeable pressure that made your breath catch sharply in your throat. His fingers dug just a little deeper into the plump, yielding flesh, holding you there for a beat longer than necessary. Yeosang’s light, teasing fingers traced the line of your shoulder and down the outside of your arm, the touch warm and lingering, sending a shiver racing straight through you and straight down to your core.
Their voices had slipped lower, richer, a few explicit little comments threading through the usual instructions like the slow, sensual stroke of velvet over bare skin.
“Such a good girl for me tonight, princess.” San murmured close to your ear as he adjusted your stance from behind, his hot breath gliding over your flushed, sensitive skin in a way that made the fine hairs at the nape of your neck stand up. “Look at how perfectly you do it… following my every instruction so sweetly. Every inch of you responding exactly the way I want.”
“Breathe through it, sweetheart.” Yeosang said, his amber eyes darkening as he stepped in front of you, one hand lightly cupping your elbow to guide the movement. “Let us see how beautifully your body opens up when you stop fighting what it wants.”
Their words sank straight between your thighs like liquid heat, hot and filthy beneath the polished surface of their polite care. Your cheeks burned hotter. Your pussy clenched again, harder this time, the seam of your leggings pressing more insistently against your swollen, throbbing clit with every small shift of weight.
You could feel yourself growing slicker, the delicate folds becoming puffy and sensitive, the fabric starting to cling in a way that made you acutely aware of how wet you were getting — and terrified they might notice the subtle dampness if they looked too closely.
And still they moved around you. San’s hand slid a fraction lower, his fingers digging a little harder into the plump flesh of your hip, the pressure possessive in a way that made your knees feel unsteady. Yeosang’s fingers brushed the inside of your wrist again as he passed you the bottle once more, the contact sending another sharp little thrill up your arm.
Every touch carried the weight of weeks of restraint finally beginning to fray at the edges, and you could feel it in the way their eyes lingered on your body, in the way their breathing had grown just a touch heavier, in the dark, hungry edge that had crept into their voices.
Your body was betraying you more with every passing second — thighs pressing together in a futile attempt to ease the growing ache, hips wanting to rock subtly into the pressure of San’s hand, breath coming quicker, a soft, involuntary whimper catching in your throat that you barely managed to swallow.
It had been so long since anyone had touched you like this, since anyone had spoken to you in that low, velvet tone that made your cunt flutter and drip. The denial you had been clinging to was cracking, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could pretend this was still just training.
Something in the air told you that tonight, in this final session, everything was about to change.
“You’ve got so much more flexible over the last while. Look at the way your hips open up like that…” When San spoke again, his voice had dropped even lower, rich as dark chocolate laced with something far darker and hungrier.
“And so responsive tonight… makes it hard to keep things professional.” Yeosang’s amber gaze had grown heavier, more languid, soft but unmistakably edged with hunger.
You tried to laugh it off, cheeks burning hot enough to rival the golden lights, but your body betrayed you with every tiny shift. The leggings clung like a second skin to the plush swell of your hips and the gentle curve of your ass, offering almost no protection from the heat of San’s touch. The cropped top rose and fell over the soft press of your breasts with every quickened breath, and Yeosang’s gaze lingered on the delicate line of your neckline far longer than was appropriate, tracing the shadow between your breasts with open appreciation.
“This is still just training,” you told yourself, even as shame twisted hot and sweet in your belly and your needy little pussy fluttered traitorously beneath the fabric. “They’re being nice, that’s all. Stop imagining their hands everywhere else.” But the air hummed with it now, that unspoken want thickening between the three of you.
It happened during the new wide-stance sumo squat.
Legs spread wide, toes turned out, you lowered yourself slowly until your muscles burned and your hips opened obscenely wide. The stretch pulled your leggings mercilessly tight across your crotch, the thin black fabric molding perfectly to the plump, swollen mound of your pussy until the delicate outline of your camel-toe became shamelessly prominent. The seam dug right between the soft, peachy halves of your labia, pressing insistently against your swollen clit and the slick, sensitive folds beneath. Your soft folds were visibly outlined against the material, a faint darker wet spot blooming where your body had grown shamefully slick and needy from nothing more than their voices and their nearness. Every tiny adjustment, every subtle shift of weight sent the seam rubbing over your throbbing clit, making fresh slickness gather and the spot spread just a little more, the fabric growing visibly damper between your spread thighs.
San’s gaze dropped before he could stop it, locking onto that obscene little display. He swallowed hard, the rosy flush on his cheeks flaring hotter as his thick cock twitched visibly beneath his pants. In that moment he was already imagining leaning down, mouth watering at the thought of pressing his lips to that plump, warm mound, tongue dragging slow and filthy over the soaked fabric until you were grinding helplessly against his face, whimpering his name, your thighs trembling around his head while he licked you through the ruined material.
In reality he moved gently, almost awkwardly, sliding his hands to your hips to help guide you upright, his touch burning straight through the thin layer of your clothes and into your skin. The pressure of his palms made your pussy press more firmly against the seam for one dizzying second, and a soft, involuntary sound caught in your throat.
“Hey… maybe we should skip holding this one too long.” He said, coughing awkwardly to clear his throat. His voice came out low and rough around the edges, dimples flashing in a smile that didn’t quite hide the hunger. “Your leggings are… a little too tight right there between your thighs. Don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” The words were clumsy on the surface, professional in shape but dripping with everything he wasn’t saying. His cat-like eyes flicked once more to the way your pussy was so clearly outlined before he forced them away.
Yeosang caught the moment and gave San a knowing look — slow, filthy, and full of understanding. The corner of his beautiful, perfectly sculpted mouth curved as he made a deliberate, unmistakable gesture with his hand, fist closing and pumping once in the air in silent, teasing mimicry, eyebrows raised in quiet challenge. San rolled his eyes, cheeks burning darker, but he couldn’t help leaning in close to Yeosang’s ear while you caught your breath, his voice dropping to a husky whisper meant only for the two of them.
“As if you don’t want to eat that pussy yourself.” He breathed, the words velvet and smoke with raw need. “I bet it’s sweet and warm under your tongue… already dripping just for us. I know you’ve imagined how good it would be to warm that tiny, plump thing up in your mouth until she squirms and whines, begging for you to finally shove your tongue inside her hole. Or am I wrong, Sangie?”
“This is so fucking mean…” Yeosang hissed through his teeth, his voice stripped of every trace of its former playfulness. His fingers dug into the small of San’s back with possessive force, a tight little squeeze that spoke of countless nights spent tangled together, both of them imagining exactly this — you caught between them, soft and ruined and begging.
You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their body language told you everything. The flush had already crawled all the way down your chest, and your cunt clenched hard at the charged air even though the words weren’t meant for your ears. Your pussy was already dripping anyway, soaking the seam of your leggings like a desperate little slut while they stood there pretending they weren’t imagining ruining you.
Your body moved through the next set on autopilot — deep, controlled lunges — yet every breath felt electric, every shift of your plush, juicy curves drawing their eyes like magnets.
San’s broad palm slid lower this time when he corrected your stance, fingers splaying possessively across the curve of your hip, his thumb brushing the waistband of your leggings in a slow, deliberate stroke that sent heat licking straight to your cunt. Yeosang stepped in from the front, his long fingers grazing the sensitive underside of your arm as he adjusted your elbow, his amber eyes locking onto yours for a heartbeat too long, whiskey-warm and dark with something that made your thighs clench involuntarily.
You could no longer ignore their masculine attractiveness — not when sweat glistened along the strong column of San’s neck, trickling down in a slow, glistening path that disappeared beneath the black tank stretched tight over his heaving chest. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the movement hypnotic, the rosy flush on his cheeks deepening with every controlled exhale. Yeosang’s shoulders rolled with each demonstration, the smooth, heated skin of his arms flexing, veins standing out like silk cords beneath the warm glow; his thighs tensed visibly when he dropped into a squat beside you, the powerful muscles shifting under the fabric of his sweatpants, and you felt your own pulse throb between your legs at the sight.
"They’re so close, so warm, so fucking beautiful," the thought twisted inside you, shame and desperate lust coiling tighter until your pussy ached, the soaked seam of your leggings rubbing obscenely against your swollen clit with every tiny movement.
The room felt stuffier now, the low bass of the music pulsing like a second heartbeat through the floor and straight into your core, the mirrors reflecting your flushed face and their carved frames in endless, obscene luxury.
San’s gaze dropped again to the prominent camel-toe still outlined so shamelessly against your crotch, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he muttered under his breath,
“You’re making this session real hard for us tonight.” The words slipped out low and honeyed, laced with filthy innuendo.
Yeosang let out a low, velvety chuckle beside him, stepping close enough that his chest brushed San’s shoulder.
“Careful, baby.” He purred, voice smooth as smoke and sin. “Or you’ll have to explain why your cock’s trying to rip through those sweatpants while you stare at her pretty little pussy like it’s dinner.”
San shot him a heated look, dimples flashing in a smirk that promised trouble, but his hand lingered on your lower back a second longer, thumb pressing into the soft dip just above your ass in a touch that felt anything but professional. Yeosang’s fingers found San’s wrist in return, squeezing with a quiet warning.
The two of them exchanged a glance so loaded it made your breath hitch — teasing each other, yes, but sharing the exact same raw thirst, the same burning need to ruin you right here.
You felt it physically now — the heat rolling off their bodies in waves, the faint smoky-sweet perfume mixed with clean sweat wrapping around you like velvet poison. San’s chest rose and fell heavily as he moved behind you for the next rep, his breath ghosting warm against the nape of your neck when he murmured:
“Bend a little deeper for me… yeah, just like that."
Yeosang’s eyes darkened to molten amber as he watched from the front, lips parting on a slow exhale, the subtle shift of his thighs drawing your gaze to the thick outline straining against his own pants.
The tension between the three of you was palpable now, almost physical — a living and breathing thing, every mirror catching the way your soft body trembled between their heat, your cunt dripping shamelessly while they fought to keep the last threads of restraint intact. The golden pendant lights turned the empty gym into a private, obscene cathedral of mirrors and shadow where the three of you stood panting in the center of it all.
San’s hand slid lower first — completely unprofessional, no longer pretending to correct your form, his calloused fingers dragging slow and deliberate down the curve of your lower back until they cupped the plush swell of your ass, squeezing the soft, milky flesh like he’d been starving for it for weeks.
Your breath caught, a soft, needy whimper slipping out instead, and that single sound shattered whatever was left of their restraint.
Yeosang moved in from the front, his amber eyes molten as he stepped close enough that his chest brushed the soft swell of your breasts, one long-fingered hand sliding up your waist beneath the hem of your cropped top.
“That’s it, beautiful,” He whispered, voice thick and velvet-rough. “Let's show you a couple of more effective exercises." His touch grew bolder when you shivered instead of pulling back, fingertips tracing the sensitive underside of your breast.
"You don’t want us to stop, do you?” San’s palm kneaded your ass harder, pulling you back against the thick, heavy outline of his cock straining against his sweatpants.
“No…I don’t want to…” Your own hands betrayed you next — hesitant at first, trembling as one palm pressed flat against Yeosang’s sweat-slick stomach, feeling the hard ridges of muscle tense beneath your touch, then sliding lower to brush the firm, rounded curve of his ass. The other found San’s bicep, fingers digging into the warm, flexed muscle as if you needed to anchor yourself before you drowned. "I really, really want this...'
Both men groaned low and filthy at the contact, their bodies pressing tighter, cocks throbbing visibly now, and the way they looked at each other over your shoulder — San’s dimpled smirk turning dark, Yeosang’s tongue dragging slowly over his lower lip — told you they’d been sharing this exact hunger for far too long.
They guided you into the next position without asking, hands everywhere at once. Yeosang gently but firmly pushed you back until your back was to San’s chest, your legs spread wide in a deep, standing lunge that had nothing to do with training anymore. San’s thick cock nestled hot and heavy right between the cheeks of your ass, the hard length rubbing shamelessly against the soaked seam of your leggings as he rolled his hips once, slow and deliberate.
Himself he stepped in front, his own erection pressing against your lower belly, the heat of it burning through the thin fabric. In the endless mirrors surrounding you, the reflection was obscene — your lavish, soft body caught between their carved frames like a perfect offering, legs trembling, hips rolling instinctively back against San’s cock while Yeosang’s hands gripped your waist.
It looked exactly like a mock-up of sex: you between them, ass grinding back on one thick cock while the other waited to ruin you from the front.
And you didn’t mind at all. Your cunt clenched hard around nothing, dripping so shamelessly that the camel-toe outline of your pussy was now dark and obvious, the fabric clinging wetly to your swollen folds.
“Fuck… feel that, baby? That’s what you do to us.”San’s breath ghosted hot against your ear as he rocked forward again, letting you feel every inch of his heavy cock drag along the cleft of your ass.
Then a hot, calloused palm slid boldly between your legs from behind — San’s, thick fingers cupping your entire pussy through the leggings, pressing the soaked material right against your aching clit and rubbing slow, firm circles that made your knees buckle.
“So fucking wet already.” He growled, voice whiskey-rough and dripping sin. “Your pretty cunt is dripping through these leggings like it’s begging to be ruined.”
Yeosang’s eyes flashed dark with shared hunger as he watched San’s hand working on you. His own palm slid up your stomach and yanked your cropped top up in one smooth, decisive motion. Your tits spilled out shamelessly — plump, juicy, nipples already tight and pebbled under the warm air, bouncing softly with every shaky breath. Yeosang groaned at the sight, leaning in to drag his tongue along the soft swell of one breast while San’s fingers kept rubbing your pussy harder, the wet, obscene sound of fabric dragging over your soaked folds echoing through the empty gym.
This was so filthy, yet your cunt was clenching and dripping anyway, pussy throbbing against San’s palm while Yeosang’s mouth hovered so close to your nipple you could feel his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive peak.
Their bodies caged you perfectly, cocks grinding against you from both sides, hands and mouths claiming every soft inch as the mirrors reflected the three of you.
The boys weren’t pretending anymore — not even a little — and neither were you.
Your hands slid into Yeosang’s soft, silky hair of their own accord, fingers threading through the damp strands as his mouth and tongue worked your breasts with passionate, wicked skill — hot, wet suction pulling one plump nipple deep between his lips while his tongue flicked and swirled like he was starving for the taste of you. You arched into him with a broken whimper, desperate lust twisting so tightly in your belly.
“Fuck, look at her.” San groaned, cupping the breast Yeosang was devouring, squeezing the soft, milky flesh with grateful hunger and pushing more of you into his partner’s greedy mouth. “Such pretty, juicy tits… offering them to us like the good little slut you are.”
At the same time one of Yeosang’s hands slid boldly between your legs, joining San’s calloused palm in a filthy duet — two sets of fingers passionately massaging your soaked pussy through the drenched fabric of your leggings, rubbing firm, circling strokes right over your swollen clit and dripping folds until the material was completely soaked, your wetness smearing hot and slick across their skin.
“Gonna stretch this tight little cunt so fucking good, princess.” San’s breath ghosted hot and filthy against the shell of your ear as he pressed harder, two thick fingers dragging up and down your seam.
That lewd promise hit your needy cunt like a spark, making your empty hole clench hard around nothing, dripping even more for them. “Gonna open you up on our cocks until you feel every inch splitting your hole wide… show you what a real stretch feels like when two men ruin you together. You’re gonna take us both, baby — gonna cream and squirt and beg while we breed this pretty pussy full.”
“Gonna leave that pretty hole swollen and gaping, leaking our thick cum like the perfect little fuck doll you are.” Yeosang’s low chuckle brushed your other ear as he pressed closer to you, his voice velvety and filthy, full of the most depraved promises.
"I'll feed you so fucking well, princess." San slid his thumb between your parted lips, running it slowly over your tongue as he added, dark and possessive.
Yeosang’s other hand came down on your free breast with a sharp, delicious slap — once, twice — making the plush flesh jiggle and flush hot under his palm, the sting blooming into liquid heat that shot straight to your clit. He sucked on your tit again before releasing your nipple with an obscene, wet squelch, strands of saliva stretching from his swollen lips to your glistening peak before snapping.
The sight seemed to drive him wild; he spat deliberately onto the flushed mound, watching the thick glob of spit slide down your skin, and San’s palm immediately smeared it in slow, possessive circles, marking you like you already belonged to them.
Their tongues turned vicious after that, filth pouring from their mouths in a constant stream of honeyed depravity while your hand finally wrapped around the thick, heavy contour of Yeosang’s cock straining against his pants.
‘So thick and so heavy’ You squeezed, stroking the massive length through the fabric, feeling it throb and twitch under your palm, and both men moaned in unison — San’s low and sweet right against your ear, Yeosang’s a deep, broken rumble against your breast.
“That’s it, doll.” Yeosang panted, voice silk and smoke. “Feel how hard you make me? How bad do I need to bury this cock in that sweet little cunt?”
“Fuck… she’s dripping so much for us already.” San moaned again, softer this time, almost reverent, as he felt a thick, warm gush of your slick leak straight from your hole and seep through the leggings onto their joined fingers. “Such a needy, messy little star… this pussy is crying for us, baby. Can’t wait to tear these fucking leggings off and watch it cream all over our cocks.” He groaned, rubbing the fresh wetness deeper into the fabric, pressing it right against your clit until your thighs shook.
Your body trembled between them, tits out and glistening with spit, their hands owning your soaked cunt, your own fingers shamelessly groping the delicious hardness of Yeosang’s throbbing cock while San ground his heavy erection harder against the plump swell of your buttocks. The empty gym had become nothing but a decadent stage for the three of you now, tension finally shattered into raw, dripping need.
The boys no longer held back — their caresses turned savage, hands working you with raw, hungry intensity. San’s thick fingers rubbed your pussy harder, aggressive and rough, grinding the drenched fabric right against your swollen clit in brutal circles while Yeosang matched him perfectly from the front, two sets of calloused palms massaging and pressing and owning your cunt like they owned every slick inch of it.
“Be a good girl for us, princess. You want these cocks? You want us to stuff that pretty mouth and fill this tight little cunt until you’re leaking our cum for days? Then you’re gonna squirt for us right now. Soak these fingers like the needy little slut you are. Earn it.” Yeosang pulled back just enough to fix you with a dark, fox-like stare — amber eyes glittering with the most depraved promises, lips wet and swollen as he growled low.
“Yes, yes, I’ll be a good girl for you.” You nodded desperately, hips jerking forward on their own, grinding shamelessly against their hands as fresh slick gushed out of you.
San’s free hand kneaded your breast roughly, pinching and rolling your nipple until it throbbed, while Yeosang grabbed one of your soft thighs in a firm grip and hiked it high to his waist, spreading you wider so both of them could rub your pussy even harder, fingers pressing and circling with filthy intent.
You couldn’t wait any longer. Your hand shot up, fingers tangling in Yeosang’s silky hair, and you yanked the beautiful vixen down into a dirty, wet, open-mouthed kiss — tongues sliding and licking and fucking each other’s mouths in a messy, obscene tangle, saliva dripping down your chin as you moaned into him like a whore in heat.
When he finally pulled away, gasping, San’s hand left your breast only to grab the back of Yeosang’s head and drag him into an equally hot, filthy kiss right in front of you — tongues battling wet and loud, mouths devouring each other while their bodies caged you tighter.
The sight was absolutely obscene, so much hotter than any porn you’d ever seen — two gorgeous men making out like they were starving for each other while their hands kept destroying your cunt through your leggings. Your hole clenched hard around nothing, aching and empty and dripping like a desperate little slut.
Your hands grew bold, sliding greedily over Yeosang’s body — tracing the slick, heated muscles of his shoulders and chest, nails scratching lightly over his nipples until they pebbled under your touch. Then you went lower, slipping your trembling fingers into the waistband of his pants and wrapping around his thick, heavy cock and balls.
He was burning hot, velvet-smooth skin stretched tight over pulsing hardness, heavy balls drawn up tight and already slick with pre-cum. You squeezed and stroked him shamelessly, thumb rubbing over the swollen head while he moaned into San’s mouth.
When they finally broke the kiss, strings of saliva connecting their lips, San turned that dirty, dimpled grin on you, eyes dark and glittering.
“Mmm… I can taste you on his tongue already, princess,” he purred. “But next time I want to lick your sweet slime straight off his balls while he’s buried balls-deep in that pretty cunt.”
The words hit you like lightning. Your orgasm crashed over you like an avalanche — sudden, shattering, unstoppable. Your hips shook violently, thighs trembling as your cunt clenched and unclenched in powerful spasms, a hot, gushing stream of your arousal squirting hard through the ruined fabric of your leggings, soaking their fingers and dripping down your thighs in messy, obscene rivulets.
"Oh God!" You cried out, broken and needy, body jerking between them as wave after wave ripped through you.
Both boys moaned loud and filthy, pressing their hard cocks harder against you — San grinding his thick length against your ass, Yeosang’s cock throbbing in your fist — while praise and filth poured from their mouths in a constant, velvet stream.
“Fuck, that’s our good girl — squirting so pretty for us,” San groaned, rubbing your pulsing cunt through every gush.
“Look at her creaming and soaking everything… such a messy little star.” Yeosang panted, eyes locked on the way your pussy kept fluttering and leaking under their hands. “Gonna make you do that again on our cocks, baby. Gonna ruin you until you can’t even walk.”
They didn’t stop rubbing you for a single second, milking every last drop of your orgasm. The afterglow of your first shattering orgasm still pulsed through every inch of your body like small electrical charges, leaving you trembling and loose and glowing between them. Your cunt throbbed hot and heavy, slick still leaking in slow, obscene rivulets down your inner thighs and soaking the already ruined leggings even deeper.
San and Yeosang didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath — they simply covered you in hot, open-mouthed kisses, devouring every inch of skin they could reach like starving men who had finally been allowed to taste their favorite meal.
“Fuck, princess… you squirted so beautifully for us.” San’s plush lips dragged slow and filthy along the column of your throat, sucking a dark mark just beneath your jaw while he groaned low and sweet against your skin.
“Look at you, all flushed and dripping — such a perfect little star.” Yeosang’s mouth found the swell of your breast, tongue swirling around your pebbled nipple before he sucked it deep, moaning gratefully as his hand kneaded the soft, plush flesh. “So soft… so fucking delicious.” He breathed between kisses, lips trailing wet heat across your collarbone and down the valley between your tits.
Their hands roamed everywhere — possessive yet reverent — stroking the gentle curve of your waist, squeezing the plush give of your ass, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts like they couldn’t stop touching you.
You felt desired. Wanted. Worshipped. Every filthy word and every hot press of their mouths made heat bloom low in your belly, your pussy clenching around nothing as fresh slick dripped out of you.
Yeosang was the one who finally lifted you, sliding his strong arms under your thighs and hoisting you up effortlessly so your legs wrapped around his waist. Your already ruined leggings rubbed obscenely against his abs as he carried you through the empty gym, San’s broad palm staying glued to your ass the entire way, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.
“We’re gonna show you what a real workout feels like now, baby,” Yeosang purred against your ear, voice smooth as silk and smoke, amber eyes dark with promise.
“No more gentle little corrections. Tonight this pretty body is ours to ruin properly.” San chuckled low behind you, nipping at your shoulder. “We’ve been dying to fuck you like this for weeks.”
The door to their private locker room swung open and Yeosang carried you inside without bothering to turn on the main lights, letting only the dim golden wall lamps cast their low, luxurious glow across the mirrored space. Long leather benches gleamed faintly beneath the warm light, while faint steam still curled lazily from the showers in the corner, and endless reflections multiplied your flushed, half-naked form from every angle. The air hung thick and charged, heavy with the scent of sweat and amber, warm skin and smoky-sweet perfume, threaded through with the faint metallic tang of steel.
He settled you onto all fours on the wide leather bench with careful, deliberate hands, your palms pressing flat into the cool, supple surface while your knees sank into the padded leather. The position naturally arched your back, pushing your ass higher and presenting your soaked, throbbing core to the two dark, hungry gazes.
Without hesitation, Yeo dropped to his knees behind you, his strong hands gripping the soft, supple flesh of your inner thighs and spreading them wider, opening you further for his mouth.
He leaned in and pressed his hot, wet mouth directly against the drenched crotch of your leggings. Yeosang's warm tongue moved in slow, deliberate, filthy stripes, dragging over the thin, clinging fabric again and again with unhurried hunger, eagerly lapping up every trace of your earlier release. The material grew even more transparent under the heat and wetness of his mouth, molding obscenely to the plump, swollen shape of your folds.
Obscene, wet sounds filled the quiet space as he sucked and licked through the cloth like he was determined to drink you straight through it, the low vibration of his moans traveling straight through to your throbbing clit and making you tremble.
“God… You taste even sweeter than I’d imagined.” Yeosang groaned loudly against you, the words muffled and rough against the warm plushness of your snatch, sending fresh sparks of pleasure shooting through your core.
At the same time, San stepped in front of you, shoving his pants down just far enough to free his heavy cock. The fat, flushed head tapped against your parted lips once, twice, smearing viscous, glistening pre-cum across them in thick streaks before he pushed forward, sliding into the moist, welcoming warmth of your mouth with a deep, satisfied groan.
"That's what you want,baby, isn't it? You want to take my cock in your starving mouth and suck it until I come down your throat while Sangie licks that pretty cunt through leggings?” He purrs in a sultry and hoarse voice “Good girl. Take me nice and deep — just like that. Let me feel that tongue working.” San pulls your face closer to his velvety, throbbing length, practically burying you in his cock and testicles.
You whimper at his words as you try to swallow him whole, pushing his thick girth deeper and deeper into the narrow tunnel of your throat as you go. As you look up at him with your tear-filled eyes, his sharp cat eyes meet yours, he gives you a slow, predatory grin—a beautiful, cocky look that makes you squirm in your spot. San's fingers threaded gently into your hair, not forcing but guiding with steady pressure as you hollowed your cheeks and moaned around his thick length.
""Do you like my cock, my little princess, do you?"
All you can do is let out a pitiful sob in response. The overwhelming dual sensation of how they work on you, making your arms shake and your thighs quiver. You pushed back slightly against Yeosang’s mouth without thinking, your body chasing more friction even as you sucked San deeper.
After long, indulgent minutes of this slow, torturous attention — San’s cock sliding in and out of your mouth in deep, measured strokes while Yeosang devoured you from behind through the ruined leggings — they switched positions with the same unhurried grace.
Sultry brunette moved behind you, dropping to his knees and burying his face between your spread thighs with even more aggressive hunger. His tongue pressed hard and insistent against your clit through the fabric, licking broad, firm stripes that made your arms shake harder and your hips twitch back toward his mouth in helpless little movements. Yeo took his place in front, one hand cradling your jaw with surprising tenderness as he fed you with his massive girth.
You gag on it, the slippery, hot walls of your throat tightening around his cock, pressing against the sensitive, throbbing veins that stretch seductively along its thick, silky length. The sensation causes Yeosang to let out a loud moan, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes in pleasure.
While you were choking on Yeosang's dick, San hooked his fingers into the thin seam of your leggings and pulled with force, the fabric gave way with a sharp, satisfying tear.
“Finally.” Yeosang groaned loudly, throwing his head back, as you wrapping your lips completely around it, sucking in your cheeks. 'It took you so fucking long, Sannie.'
San didn’t answer, instead, his palm came down in a sharp, wet slap directly against your now-bare, glistening cunt. The sound cracked obscenely through the room, your soft, plump folds jiggling from the impact, the sting blooming into hot, throbbing pleasure that made your whole body jolt forward.
A helpless, broken whimper escaped your throat, your eyes squeezed shut as your curvy, plush hips arched back instinctively toward the heat of San’s hand. Your body moving on its own, chasing more even if the sensation was burning.
San slapped you again, harder this time, watching with dark, hungry eyes as your folds flushed a deepe pink and grew visibly wetter under the warm golden light. A thick strand of your slick clung to his fingers for a moment when he pulled his hand back.
Without a word, Yeosang leaned forward from his position in front and spat directly onto your swollen, exposed clit — thick, warm saliva landing right on the sensitive bundle of nerves. San immediately smeared it in with his fingers, rubbing slow circles over your dripping entrance and clit like he was marking you, claiming every inch as theirs.
"Perfect, finest fuckhole." He exhales, his feline eyes darkening and becoming heavy, completely clouded with lust. His fingers parted your labia to reveal even more of your flesh. “Fuck, look at you, so pink and wet and ready for us… this pretty pussy is already crying for our cocks, like it knows exactly who it belongs to now. Such a good, messy girl for us.”
Your thighs trembled under their hands, slick continuing to ooze from your needy core as the cool air kissed your exposed skin and their combined attention made your whole body burn with desperate, undeniable want. The mirrors caught every detail — your flushed face, the way your hips kept twitching back for more, the glistening mess they had made of you — and there was no hiding how thoroughly they already owned every reaction.
“Our princess deserved it, didn’t she? But I think there are a couple more exercises that we haven’t tried yet.” Yeosang’s voice came low and velvet-smooth as he spoke.
With effortless strength Yeosang lifted you again, this time completely off the bench. His strong arms hooked beneath your knees, spreading your legs impossibly wide so they dangled helplessly in the air, your lush body suspended and utterly at their mercy. Your back pressed flush against the solid, burning heat of his chest as he held you open like something precious and filthy all at once, the torn edges of your ruined leggings framing your exposed cunt in the most obscene display.
San dropped to his knees in front of you without hesitation, dark eyes ravenous as he buried his face between your spread thighs like a cat who had finally reached the cream. His tongue plunged straight into your dripping hole with long, greedy strokes, licking deep and thorough, devouring every drop of your slick while Yeosang kept you held wide open and perfectly positioned for him.
The position was pure, unapologetic filth — your body hanging suspended in the air, legs spread helplessly wide and dangling as San’s hot tongue fucked into your cunt with relentless, worshipful hunger. Yeosang’s mouth moved along the side of your neck at the same time, kissing and biting, whispering the most depraved promises directly against your ear while his strong arms never wavered.
“That’s our good girl.” Yeosang murmured, voice low and velvet-rough right against your skin. “You’re doing so fucking well for us already, princess. Look how beautifully you’re dripping down his chin… such a messy, perfect, little thing for us to ruin.”
Your hands fisted tight in San’s dark hair as another orgasm began to build, slow and inevitable, coiling low in your belly like thick molten gold. The mirrored walls reflected every obscene detail back at you — your plush body held open and trembling in the air, San’s face buried between your thighs, his tongue working deep inside you, Yeosang’s powerful arms keeping you exactly where they wanted you, their combined heat and hunger wrapping around you like the most addictive kind of poison.
The climax rolled through you like thick and white-hot wave, slow and crushing in its intensity. Your thighs shook violently in Yeosang’s iron grip while your cunt clenched and fluttered around San’s tongue. A hot, gushing squirt flooded out of you in messy, uncontrollable pulses, soaking his face and dripping down his chin in shiny rivulets that caught the dim golden light like champagne. You felt no shame — only pure, addictive desire and the overwhelming thrill of being held suspended and devoured like the most precious thing they had ever tasted.
"Tastes good, doesn't it?" Yeosang asks, licking his pretty lips as if he's trying to taste you, and San just moaned loudly in response, lapping up your juices as if it were his last meal on earth.
He purrs at your sweetness, like a contented giant cat, as he drank every drop with open hungry, his tongue still working you through the aftershocks until your vision sparkled at the edges with tears and your whole body trembled uncontrollably in Sangie’s arms.
“I can’t… I can’t take it, it’s so much...” You whimpered, voice broken and high, the words tumbling out between gasps as your fingers tightened almost painfully in San’s hair. “Please... it’s too good, I’m... fuck...”
Only then did they lower you. Yeosang’s arms eased you down onto the cool leather bench with surprising gentleness, though their eyes still burned with the same raw, insatiable hunger that promised they were far from finished with you.
They didn’t give you time to recover. San stood first, kicking his pants the rest of the way off so his thick length slapped heavily against his perfectly sculpted abs with a loud, wet sound, splashing heavy drops of pre-cum across the chiselled ridges of muscle. Yeosang followed with unhurried grace, stripping until his cock was revealed in all its glory — so beautifully thick, juicy and veined, glistening from the copious streams of pre-cum leaking steadily from the swollen, reddened head and flowing down the length to dirty his full, heavy balls.
Both of them now gloriously naked, carved muscle gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat under the low light.
From this angle you swallowed heavily, feeling saliva pool thickly in your mouth while warm, viscous slick continued to flow from your little, plump pussy, thoroughly moistening your silky folds and making them glisten.
They began to tease you with their cocks like they had all the time in the world — dragging the heavy heads slowly along your swollen folds, tapping gently against your oversensitive clit, smearing their pre-cum over your slick skin in lazy, deliberate strokes that made your hips twitch and your breath catch with every new touch.
San rubbed the fat, leaking head of his cock up and down your ruined, dripping slit in slow, deliberate strokes, smearing your own slick and his pre-cum over your swollen labia until everything glistened. Yeosang mirrored him from the other side, sliding his own thick length along your pussy in lazy, filthy drags that made your hips jerk forward on instinct, your plump cunt fluttering helplessly between the two hot, heavy cocks.
Yeosang slapped his dick against your clit once, twice — wet, obscene smacks that sent little shocks of pleasure racing through you, then spat onto your exposed pussy, watching the thick glob slide down your folds before San rubbed it in with the broad head of his cock, smearing it everywhere.
“Feel that, princess?” San purred, eyes locked on the way your pussy glistened under their combined attention. “Two cocks teasing this pretty little cunt… we’re gonna stretch you so fucking full tonight.”
“You’re so light, baby. We should feed you better, right, San?” Yeosang lifted you again without the slightest effort, this time turning you so your back pressed against his chest, your legs hooked over his strong forearms in a perfect standing carry that left you suspended in the air between them. Your ripped leggings still framed your ass and thighs like a trophy while he held you wide open, a beautiful, voluptuous body completely helpless and exposed for whatever they wanted.
“I’ve heard that a generous, warm load of cum can keep you full for the day… or a couple of hours.” A wicked smile curved his plump lips as he stepped in close, lined up, and sank into you in one long, devastating thrust — his thick cock stretching your tight, plush cunt open around his girth until you felt every veiny inch buried to the hilt.
“So good… oh God, San… so thick… please, more…” The moan that tore from your throat was broken and needy as San started fucking you deep and steady, hips snapping forward while Yeosang held you suspended like you weighed nothing.
Every powerful thrust made your tits bounce, your pussy cream visibly around his cock, the wet slap of skin echoing through the mirrored locker room. Yeosang’s mouth found your neck again, biting and sucking marks into your skin while one of his hands slid down to stroke San’s cock every time it pulled out of you, fingers teasing his heavy balls and the base of his shaft like he couldn’t help but touch him.
They kissed each other right over your shoulder — hot, open-mouthed, tongues sliding messily while San kept pounding into your cunt and Yeosang held you open for every thrust. The sight in the mirrors was pure luxury and filth: your soft body impaled and trembling in the air between two carved, sweating men who fucked and touched each other with shameless familiarity.
You felt desired. Craved. Like the center of their entire filthy universe.
San’s thrusts grew harder, deeper, his cock dragging perfectly against that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes. Yeosang’s fingers found your clit again, rubbing tight, fast circles while he whispered the most depraved things against your ear.
“That’s our good girl… taking his cock so beautifully while I hold you open like a little fucktoy. You’re gonna squirt all over him again, aren’t you? Soak his balls while I watch.”
The orgasm crashed over you without warning — sudden, shattering, your cunt clamping down hard around San’s thick cock as you squirted hard, hot streams gushing out around him and dripping down his thighs in messy rivulets. Both men groaned in unison, San’s hips stuttering as he fucked you through it, Yeosang’s fingers never stopping their relentless circles.
“Fuck yes, princess, cream all over my cock.” San growled, voice rough with pleasure. “Such a messy, perfect little slut for us.”
They didn’t stop. They simply adjusted their grip and kept you suspended between them, trading places with smooth, practiced ease — Yeosang sliding into your still-spasming cunt while San took over holding you open, their bodies moving together like they had done this a thousand times before.
And you knew, deep in your fluttering core, that the night was far from over.
Yeosang’s thick, veiny cock stretched you open so perfectly it stole the breath from your lungs, every slow, deliberate thrust dragging along your sensitive walls and making fresh slick drip down his shaft in thick, warm strands. San held you effortlessly in his strong arms, your back pressed to his broad chest, your legs hooked wide over his forearms, your exposed pussy an obscene invitation.
The position left you completely helpless and open, your body suspended between them, tits bouncing gently with every deep stroke Yeosang gave you.
San couldn’t handle the sight. His dark eyes stayed locked on the place where Yeosang’s massive cock disappeared into your tight, plump cunt, watching the way your soft hole stretched thin and shiny around the thick shaft, the delicate pink edges clinging to every veiny inch like they were trying to pull him deeper.
“Fuck…” San breathed, voice rough and ragged, the hunger in it almost painful. “You’re beautifully taking him, princess… that pretty little pussy stretching so wide and perfect around his thick cock. It’s too fucking tempting.”
He wanted to feel both of you. His fingers slid down first, tracing the slick, stretched rim of your cunt where Yeosang’s cock was buried to the hilt. You felt every calloused fingertip exploring the place where your bodies connected — the soft, thin edges of your hole stretched obscenely around Yeosang’s girth, the hot, wet glide of skin on skin.
A broken whine slipped from your throat at the overwhelming sensitivity, your cunt fluttering hard around Yeosang’s cock as San’s fingers circled the stretched opening. From this touch Yeosang groaned low, hips rolling deep and slow.
“Shhh, baby… take it like a big girl.” He whispered sensually against your ear, voice silk and smoke. “You can handle us both. We know you can.”
San slowly pushed one thick finger inside you alongside Yeosang’s cock. The stretch was immediate and intense — a burning, delicious pressure that made you whine louder, body trembling in San’s arms as your pussy struggled to accommodate the extra intrusion. San’s finger curled gently, stroking the underside of Yeosang’s shaft, feeling both of you at the same time. Your head fell back against San’s shoulder, soft, needy sounds spilling from your lips while Yeosang kept fucking you slow and deep, his cock dragging against San’s finger with every thrust.
“Fuck, she’s so tight.” San growled, eyes fixed on the obscene sight. He spat thickly onto your already stretched pussy, watching the warm glob slide down and coat the place where you were joined.
Yeosang shifted his grip without breaking rhythm, one strong arm sliding beneath your thigh to help support your weight while San adjusted his stance, freeing one hand so he could position himself. He held you steady, his cock still buried deep inside you, murmuring quiet encouragement against your ear as San lined up the fat, leaking head of his own cock right beside Yeosang’s and started pushing.
The stretch was painful for one breathless second — a sharp, burning fullness that made your eyes water, but the pleasure that followed was blinding.
You felt impossibly full, stretched wider than you had ever been, both thick cocks sliding into your cunt together, rubbing against each other inside you, the veiny ridges dragging along your walls in perfect, devastating friction. Your plump labia, lewdly parted around them, the sight so obscene in the mirrors that another rush of slick gushed out around their joined cocks, coating them both in your mess.
They started fucking you properly in a way you never even thought possible with deep double-penetrating your tight little cunt in slow, synchronized thrusts. San and Yeosang moved together like they shared one mind, hips rolling in perfect rhythm, cocks sliding deep and dragging back out only to push in again even deeper and harder, stretching you open over and over.
The wet, filthy sounds of your soaked pussy taking two massive, sinewy cocks at once filled the locker room — loud, obscene squelches mixed with your broken moans and boys’ low, hungry groans. Yeosang’s hands gripped your thighs tighter, San’s arms locked around you, keeping you suspended and helpless while they ruined you.
You started shaking hard, thighs trembling violently, your cunt clenching and fluttering around their cocks as another orgasm built like a tidal wave ready to crash. They felt it immediately. With a shared, filthy groan they both pulled out of you at the same moment with a disgustingly loud slurping sound, leaving your hole gaping and empty, clenching desperately around nothing as thick strings of your slick dripped down the inner side of your thighs.
“Please… please give me more…” Your body trembled between them, still suspended in San’s arms, the sudden emptiness making you whine needily, hips twitching in search of them.
They lowered you gently onto the wide leather bench, trading heated glances over your flushed, trembling form, their cocks glistening with your wetness and still rock-hard.
“Now, now, princess, don’t pout. We just want to change positions.” San murmured, voice dark and promising as he ran a hand down your spine. ‘Believe me, angel, we’re a long way from being done with you.’
He dropped onto the wide leather bench, pulling you down with him so your back pressed flush against his heated, sweat-slick chest. His strong arms hooked under your knees, yanking your legs up and back in a full nelson hold that folded you open like a pretty little present. Yeosang stood in front of you, amber eyes gleaming with dark hunger as he watched San line up and slam into you in one brutal, possessive thrust.
He fucked you like he had been holding back for years. His thrusts were fast, aggressive, slamming into your tight, plush cunt with all his strength, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the dim locker room like thunder. Every powerful stroke drove his thick cock so deep you felt it in your belly, a barely noticeable bulge would appear every time San thrust his impressive cock into you as deeply as it would go.
His heavy balls slapping heavily against your plump, juicy bum, making the soft flesh redden and wiggle. The loud, slick sounds that grew messier each time. Your swollen pussy was stretched indecently around him, puffy labia spread wide and lewdly, the obscene sight reflected back at you from every mirror, and Yeosang couldn’t resist.
He dropped to his knees between your spread thighs and wrapped his long fingers around your swollen, peachy halves, squeezing the soft, sensitive flesh together and rubbing them up and down the sides of San’s pistoning cock while San stayed buried deep inside you. The added pressure made San moan loudly, hips stuttering for a second as he felt Yeosang’s fingers stroking him through your cunt.
“Fuck, Yeosang.” San gasped, voice wrecked and wheezing with pleasure. “Take that slutty little cunt into your mouth… taste us together. I want to feel your tongue on my cock while I’m balls-deep in her.”
Yeosang’s wicked smile flashed before he leaned down and wrapped his hot, wet mouth around your pussy, lips and tongue sucking roughly and greedily around the place where San’s thick cock disappeared inside you.
He sucked hard, tongue flicking wildly over your clit and the stretched rim of your tender hole, tasting both of you at once while his hand cupped San’s heavy balls, massaging and caressing them with slow, filthy rolls of his fingers.
For what felt like an eternity they kept you suspended between them, San’s powerful hips snapping forward in a relentless rhythm that drove his thick cock deep into the clutching, silky heat of your cunt again and again while Yeosang’s mouth worked with greedy, devoted hunger at the exact place where you were stretched around his partner.
The mirrored locker room filled with the obscene symphony of it — the rhythmic, wet squelch of San’s length spearing through your soaked folds, the filthy, eager sounds of Yeosang sucking and lapping at your swollen entrance and the heavy weight of San’s balls, the low broken groans rumbling from San’s chest, and the soft, desperate whimpers spilling from your own throat only to echo back at you from every reflective surface.
Your soft, milky body jolted helplessly in San’s iron hold, full breasts bouncing with every brutal thrust, nipples tight and aching from the constant friction, while your puffy, glistening pussy was forced wide around San’s cock and simultaneously worshipped by Yeosang’s relentless tongue, the dual assault leaving you trembling and gasping.
The pleasure had been coiling low in your belly for what felt like hours, tightening with every deep stroke and every clever flick of Yeosang’s tongue until it became something you could no longer outrun. It had been so long since anyone had touched you like this — truly touched you, unraveled you — and the knowledge that these two men had spent weeks circling you during training sessions, watching you, teasing you with lingering hands and loaded glances, only made the current moment feel more overwhelming. When the orgasm finally crashed over you it did so with shattering force.
A broken, high-pitched cry tore from your throat as your cunt clamped down viciously around San’s driving cock, your entire body seizing in his arms. A hot, copious rush of squirt erupted from you in powerful, rhythmic pulses, flooding Yeosang’s pretty face in a messy, glistening wave, splashing across San’s pistoning length and down his thighs, splattering onto the leather bench in obscene, spreading puddles. Your thighs shook violently in San’s unyielding grip, toes curling hard, back arching as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through you.
Your pretty, fluttering pussy continued to gush and spasm around San’s thickness even as Yeosang moaned low in satisfaction and kept licking and sucking through every convulsion, drinking you down like a man who had been starving for the taste of you, his elegant features shiny and dripping with your release.
San’s hips stuttered, a deep filthy groan vibrating through his chest as he fucked you steadily through the violent crest, his grip on your soft body tightening possessively, but they gave you no time to drift in the aftershocks.
He pulled back just enough to lick his lips with slow, visible satisfaction, his face gleaming with the evidence of your pleasure, and wrapped his fingers around the thick base of San’s cock. With deliberate, teasing slowness he drew his heavy length out of your still-clenching, gaping cunt, both men watching with dark hunger as your abused hole fluttered and leaked around the sudden emptiness, a thin strand of slick stretching between your puffy folds and the head of San’s cock before it broke.
Then Yeosang leaned in and took San’s shaft into his mouth in one smooth motion, sinking down until the head nudged the back of his throat, a low satisfied moan vibrating around the thick length as he tasted the mingled flavors of you and his partner. He pulled off with a wet, obscene pop, lips swollen and glistening, and lifted his gaze to both of you — that wicked, dark smile curving his mouth, full of filthy promise.
“My turn now, princess.” Yeo breathed, the words low and velvet against the shell of your ear.
With that same measured control he’d used on you for weeks, he lifted your sweat-damp body and settled you onto the wide leather bench. He didn’t just fold you — he arranged you. One strong arm slipped beneath the backs of your knees while the other supported the curve of your spine, guiding you until your upper back and shoulders rested firmly against the padded surface. Then, with deliberate slowness, he drew your soft thighs up and back, folding them deep toward your chest until your knees hovered beside your shoulders and your calves trembled in the air. The movement tilted your pelvis sharply upward in a deep anterior tilt, lifting your ass completely off the bench and presenting your cunt like an offering.
In this position your body was bent in a tight, obscene curve, the angle opened you completely: your puffy, swollen lips parted naturally, your slick, needy entrance exposed and fluttering, the tender pink inner folds glistening under the warm golden lamps. Even the tight, untouched hole of your anus was visible, framed by the torn edges of your ruined leggings. You were utterly spread, utterly vulnerable, and the deep fold of your body made every inch of you accessible for whatever Yeosang wanted to take.
San had watched every second with hungry, half-lidded eyes, before knelt beside your head. One large hand cradled the back of your skull with surprising tenderness while the other guided the wet, flushed head of his cock to your parted lips, smearing them with the mess of his own precum and your earlier saliva.
“Open that pretty mouth for me, sweetheart.” San murmured, voice thick with want. “There you go… good girl.”
You obeyed instantly, lips stretching around the thick, velvety head as he fed himself into the wet heat of your mouth at the exact same unhurried pace Yeosang used to sink into your cunt. The dual stretch hit you at once — the heavy girth sliding over your tongue and nudging the back of your throat while Yeosang’s cock pressed deep into your soaked, clutching walls, the fat head nudging that tender spot inside you that made your toes curl in the air.
They moved in perfect sync. Every time Yeo withdrew, San eased back; every time Yeosang rolled his hips forward and buried himself to the hilt, San pushed deeper into your throat. The mirrored walls threw the image back at you from every angle: your body folded and pinned, tits bouncing heavily with each thrust, San’s thick length disappearing between your stretched lips, and the visible, shifting bulge in your soft lower belly every time Yeosang balls-deep.
Your hands moved without thought. One gripped the edge of the leather bench hard enough that your knuckles whitened; the other slid up San’s powerful thigh, fingers digging into the firm muscle as if anchoring yourself while he used your mouth. A broken, muffled moan vibrated around his cock when Yeosang’s next thrust punched a little higher, deeper, the pressure so perfect it made your eyes water and roll back.
“Fuck, look at her.” Yeosang groaned, voice still somehow calm even as his hips worked that deep, punishing rhythm. “Taking me so deep in this pretty little position… I can see myself moving inside you, princess. Your cunt is creaming all over my cock, such a messy girl.”
“You’re trembling all over, little star. Poor thing’s been so empty for so long and now she’s got both holes stuffed full. You love it, don’t you? Love being used like this.” San’s thumb stroked your cheek as he rocked into your throat, his own breathing rougher now.
You tried to answer — a garbled, desperate sound around San’s cock, and the vibration made him hiss. Your free hand slid down your own body, trembling fingers brushing the place where Yeosang’s thick length disappeared inside you, feeling the stretch, the heat, the way your folds clung to him on every withdrawal. Your thighs quivered in his hold. Your inner walls fluttered and squeezed rhythmically, the wet, creamy sounds growing louder and filthier with every thrust. Saliva spilled from the corners of your mouth, running down your chin and throat as San kept that same relentless, matching pace.
The mirrored reflection showed everything: the way your body trembled and jolted between them, the shine of sweat on your skin, the way your pretty, swollen cunt looked stretched and used, glistening with your own slick every time Yeosang pulled back. The coil in your belly wound tighter, hotter, your next orgasm building with terrifying speed under the dual assault.
You were so full. So completely, ruinously full. And the knowledge that these two men — the same trainers who had kept their distance for weeks — were now fucking you in perfect tandem while you lay folded and dripping between them only made the pleasure burn hotter, sharper, impossible to hold back.
They felt it the moment your walls began to flutter in warning. Yeosang’s hips stuttered once, then stilled deep inside you. San pulled his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting your parted lips to the glistening head. Both men looked down at you with dark, possessive hunger, their chests heaving, cocks throbbing and shiny with your mess.
“Not yet, princess. You’re going to cum only when both of us are buried deep inside this pretty little cunt at the same time. We’re going to fill you until you’re overflowing, stuff this greedy hole so full of our thick cum that you’ll be leaking us for days.” San’s voice came out low and rough with restraint, the words dripping with dark promise as he cradled your flushed face. For a moment leaned down and pressed a filthy, open-mouthed kiss to your swollen clit as Yeo slowly withdrew, leaving your pussy gaping and fluttering desperately around nothing.
The sudden emptiness made you ache, your sensitive walls clenching on air, a fresh trickle of slick sliding down toward your ass. The night was still young, and they clearly had so much more planned for your body.
Your cunt was stretched and aching, every inch of your form literally begging for a moment’s mercy — thighs trembling, chest heaving, the ripped leggings still clinging to your plush hips.
Yet the craving burned hotter than the soreness. You needed their cum. You needed their attention. You needed to be filled and claimed and used until your mind went blank. Stupidly, breathlessly, you nodded, lips parted on a desperate little whimper.
“Yes… give me your cum.” You whispered, voice trembling with need as the words spilled from your swollen lips. “Fill me up. Fill this cunt with both of your cocks. Please.”
They gave you exactly that — and so much more.
San spread a thick, soft yoga mat onto the floor and then with careful, unyielding hands they lifted you down from the bench. They arranged you between them on your side, turning the three of you into a heated, tangled press of muscle and sweat. You faced Yeosang, your soft, sensitive breasts pillowed against the firm planes of his chest while San curved behind you, his broad, powerful frame molding perfectly to your back. One of San’s strong hands slid down to hook behind your upper thigh, lifting and draping your leg high over Yeosang’s hip, opening you wide and stable while your lower leg stayed nestled between theirs.
This position left your pretty, swollen pussy exposed and accessible for them from both sides, whilst you were trapped between the scorching heat of their bodies.
At first they only tortured you with the heads of their cocks.
San rubbed the fat, leaking tip of his dick up and down your soft, sticky slit from behind, dipping just an inch inside your fluttering hole before pulling back with a wet, obscene pop that made your hips twitch. Yeosang did the same from the front, sliding his own swollen head in and out in slow, shallow dips, both of them coating themselves in your slick. Hot breath brushed your ear and throat as they whispered the most depraved filth against your skin.
“Feel how greedy this little cunt is, princess?” San's voice was like liquid honey, sticking to your skin, his free hand splaying possessively over your belly. “Your slutty, insatiable hole clenching and fluttering, so fucking thirst to swallow us whole. So empty and desperate for us.”
“Please… put them in. I need to feel both of you… stretching me at the same time.” You whimpered, one hand gripping Yeosang’s shoulder, the other reaching back to clutch at San’s thick thigh, nails digging in.
"As you wish, baby."
It happened in one smooth motion. San’s thick cock slid deep from behind at the same moment Yeosang’s heavy length sank into you from the front until both were buried to the hilt inside your stretched, aching pussy. Their heavy balls pressed tightly together beneath you. The obscene fullness stole the breath from your lungs — that deep, burning stretch that was almost too much and yet exactly what your body had been craving. Your soft, plump walls were forced to accommodate two cocks at once, every veiny ridge rubbing against the other and against your most sensitive spots with even the smallest shift of their hips.
A broken moan tore from your throat as your eyes fluttered and rolled back, your pussy clenching hard around them both in helpless, rhythmic spasms.
Slow at first, then deeper and harder, they moved in synchronized rolls that made their cocks drag and grind inside you in perfect, filthy rhythm. The wet, obscene squelch of your soaked pussy filled the locker room like the most luxurious, depraved symphony. Your soft, milky body trembled between them — San’s broad chest pressed flush to your back, Yeosang’s sculpted front flush against your tits, every breath shared, every thrust shared.
At first they kept the rhythm slow and deep, stretching you so wide you could feel every ridge and vein rubbing along your slippery, sensitive walls. Then San changed the technique — he held still, buried to the hilt, letting Yeosang fuck you with shallow, punishing snaps of his hips that made their balls slap together wetly beneath you. The friction was insane. Yeosang’s cock dragged along San’s while San’s thickness kept you pinned open, and you whimpered, overwhelmed, your hips rolling back instinctively, trying to take them even deeper.
“Feel that, princess?” San breathed hot against your ear, voice wrecked and thick with satisfaction, one hand sliding up to cup your breast and pinch your nipple. “Two cocks owning this greedy little cunt at the same time… you’re taking us so fucking well. Look at how your pretty pussy is creaming for us.”
Then they changed. Yeosang stilled deep inside you while San started thrusting — harder, faster, the angle slightly different so his cock rubbed right against that sensitive spot on your front wall while Yeosang’s thickness pressed relentlessly against the back.
You lost yourself in the overwhelming sensations of indescribable painful ecstasy that shook you with every thrust of San's and Sangie's thick cocks into your leaking pussy, like electric shocks. Everything that was happening was so far removed from reality that you had no feeling at all, and you couldn't bring yourself to do anything other than moan and babbling their names incoherently while the boys kept stuffing you to the brim.
The dual pressure made your eyes roll back again, a high, broken sound escaping you as your swollen pussy creamed visibly around both shafts, slick dripping down their balls in shiny rivulets. Your hand tightened on Yeosang’s shoulder, the other sliding back to grip San’s ass, pulling him harder into you with every thrust.
“San… Yeo… oh god…fuck...don’t stop…” You gasped, voice shaking. “It’s so… I want it so badly. Please,, fill me up; I want to feel your sperm flowing out of my hole.” You slightly moving your butty in an attempt to set yourself down deeper on on theirs warm, hard lengths.
They experimenting with angles, with depth, with rhythm — one cock gliding in deep while the other withdrew almost to the tip, then both driving in together until the stretch made your breath catch. Then long, sinuous grinding circles that made the obscene bulge in your lower belly shift and press outward with every deep roll of their hips.
San’s hand slid down to spread your swollen, glistening labia wider, giving them both an even clearer view of how your pretty hole stretched so obscenely around their joined, veiny lengths. Yeosang’s elegant fingers joined his, rubbing your swollen clit in tight, relentless circles while they kept fucking you in that side-lying press.
You were so deeply immersed in pleasure that you didn’t notice how at some point San leaned over your shoulder to kiss Yeosang, tongues sliding hot and messy while their hips never stopped rolling in that perfect, filthy dance. The sight of them kissing above you while both were buried to the hilt inside you sent another rush of slick flooding out around their shafts, your walls fluttering helplessly.
You felt so full. So desired. So perfectly, deliciously used. Your sensitive cunt was trembling, your delicate labia reddened and coated with your sticky, juices that was gushing out of you with every movement of the two passionate boys as they continued to drag their cocks along your sensitive walls, making you feel overexcited.
They didn’t let you catch your breath. And now, you were finally able to fully understand what the girls in the locker room meant when they talked about the boys not giving you a second's rest.
With effortless, combined strength they lifted your trembling body from the yoga mat like you weighed nothing, turning you into their personal fucktoy once again. Yeosang sat first on the edge of the wide bench and pulled you down onto his lap in a deep, eye-contact lotus.
Your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist as his massive, slippery cock slid back into your stretched, creamy cunt in one smooth glide. The angle was so deep you felt the head nudge right up against your cervix, the visible bulge reappearing in your soft belly as he settled you fully onto him. San moved in behind you, his broad chest pressed flush to your back, powerful arms locking around your ribs as he pushed his own heavy length in alongside Yeosang’s until both were buried to the hilt inside you.
Your legs stayed locked tight around Yeosang’s waist while San’s arms caged you between them. They began to move in slow, grinding circles, their cocks dragging and pressing against each other, the wet, filthy sounds of your soaked cunt and wet, slapping testicles filled the locker room.
“It’s so deep… I can feel you both…” Your hands slid up to cradle Yeosang’s face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones as you moaned brokenly against his mouth.
“Take every inch, princess. You're such a great dick sleeve, the most amazing pussy I've ever fucked." San’s purring, impossibly pornographic voice vibrates on your heated skin like an electrical voltage, sending signals of arousal straight to your lustful, needy cunt.
They shifted you effortlessly into the next position without ever pulling out. Yeosang lay back on the bench and pulled you on top of him in reverse cowgirl, your back to his chest, his cock still buried deep inside you. Your legs spread wide as San stepped between your spread thighs and pushed back inside your already-stuffed pussy, turning the position into a perfect, filthy sandwich.
Your soft, plush ass jiggled lewdly with every thrust as they fucked you together, San’s hips snapping forward while Yeosang thrust up from below, their cocks alternating and grinding in perfect, filthy sync.
They moved you through position after advanced position without ever letting you feel empty — from that sandwich straight into a suspended one where both men stood close together and lifted you between them. Then they shifted into a standing criss-cross, angling their hips so their thick shafts crossed inside you, grinding in opposite directions, the friction so intense your head fell back against San’s shoulder with a broken sob.
Every technique was slower, deeper, sharper, more devastating than the last — long, grinding thrusts that let you feel every single inch of them rubbing together inside your cunt, short sharp snaps that made your clit throb against their shafts, deep circling grinds that pressed right against your cervix and made the bulge in your belly shift obscenely with every move. Your body shook harder with every new position, your cunt creaming and fluttering wildly around their, fresh slick dripping down their balls, but they refused to let you cum yet.
The tension finally snapped like a silk thread pulled too tight.
Their thrusts turned chaotic, uncoordinated, desperate — hips stuttering, cocks grinding and rubbing against each other inside your overstuffed cunt with raw, animal need. San’s powerful slams grew erratic behind you, Yeosang’s deep rolls from the front losing their perfect rhythm as both men chased their release with broken, filthy groans. You felt them getting closer, their shafts swelling even harder inside you, balls drawn up tight and slapping wetly together with every frantic thrust. Your own body was trembling uncontrollably, pussy spasming and gushing around them, every nerve alight as you teetered right on the edge they still wouldn’t let you cross.
And then you came. It hit you like a blinding white storm, so powerful that for one endless, suspended second your soul seemed to leave your body entirely. This time it's different; black dots begin to dance in front of your eyes, and your consciousness shuts down as you fall into the extreme, insane pleasure that has engulfed every cell in your body.
Your vision whited out, every muscle locking tight as your cunt convulsed violently around both cocks at once. You sob loudly as you squirted like a fountain. Hypersensitive and overwhelmed, your body writhing between them as the hot, powerful streams exploding out of you in rhythmic, uncontrollable pulses, soaking their joined shafts, their heavy balls, their thighs, and the yoga mat beneath you in messy, obscene floods.
Your pussy bucked and spasmed wildly, squeezing and milking their cocks with greedy, rhythmic contractions that tried to drag them even deeper inside you while fresh cream and squirt gushed out around them in thick, glossy rivulets.
One of your hands fisted in San’s hair, the other clutching desperately at Yeosang’s arm as your body shook uncontrollably between them.
“San...Yeosang...Oh my God…this is too much! I can’t… I can’t!” The words dissolved into another broken cry as another powerful gush forced its way out.
“Fuck, princessm, yes, just like that.” San murmured sultrily, pressing his plump, sensual lips against your neck, his hips jerking involuntarily. “Squirt for us. Look at this greedy little cunt gushing all over both our cocks like the perfect, desperate girl you are.”
“She’s milking us so fucking hard.” Yeosang moaned, amber eyes rolling back as your velvety walls fluttered and clenched around them in rhythmic spasms.
They couldn’t hold back any longer.
Sangie came first, teeth sinking into the soft curve of your shoulder with a guttural, broken groan as thick, hot ropes of his cum flooded deep into your spasming cunt. He kept thrusting through it, pumping load after load inside you, the warmth spreading and mixing with your own mess until it started leaking out around his cock in creamy white rivers. San followed right behind him, one hand roughly squeezing your breast, fingers digging into the plush, trembling flesh as he buried his face in your neck and moaned loud and shattered against your ear.
A seemingly endless stream of his thick, milky cum poured into you in heavy, pulsing jets, filling you so full you could feel the pressure building in your lower belly, the warmth overflowing until it forced even more of their combined release out.
Both cocks stayed buried deep inside your convulsing pussy as they emptied themselves completely, flooding your ruined little hole until you were stuffed to the absolute brim with their combined cum. The wet, filthy sounds of it leaking out around their twitching lengths filled the mirrored locker room, the golden light catching every glossy, pearly drop that escaped your overstretched hole.
Their bodies stayed pressed tight against yours, chests heaving, cocks still twitching and jerking inside you as the last weak spurts pushed even more warmth into your already overflowing cunt. San pressed soft, reverent kisses along your neck where Sangie had bitten you, while Yeosang’s hand gently stroked your stomach, right over the place where you could still feel the subtle bulge of their softening cocks and the heavy load they had just pumped into you.
The night was far from over… but for this one perfect, blinding moment, they simply held you between them — suspended in the afterglow, dripping with their cum, and completely, irrevocably theirs.
You continued lying there like that for long, luxurious minutes, suspended in the haze of pure, dazzling pleasure between their two warm, heaving bodies.
Their arms wrapped around you like possessive bands of steel and velvet, holding you exactly where you belonged — full, claimed, dripping. The only sounds were the slow, ragged rhythm of three sets of breathing and the occasional wet, filthy little squelch as your pussy fluttered and clenched weakly around their cocks, still trying to keep every thick drop of their milky load inside you.
Yeosang slipped out first with a slow, deliberate drag that made your sensitive walls squeezed weakly in a feeble attempt at protest, let out a broken, pitiful moan slipping from your lips. San followed a heartbeat later. The moment both cocks left your ruined hole, a warm, heavy stream of their combined cum poured out of you in one thick, creamy mass — pale and pearly, mixed with your own slick. It soaked the yoga mat beneath you instantly, joining the already massive puddle of your squirt and turning the dark fabric even wetter.
Everything blurred in the most delicious haze. You felt their fingers sliding between your spread legs, scooping up the thick mixture of cum and squirt that leaked from your pussy. Those same fingers found your lips, pushing inside your mouth, letting you taste the salty-sweet mess they had made of you. You sucked obediently, dazed and floating, your weak body sandwiched between two insatiable, lustful men, while they continued to feed you their sperm.
Yeo scooped a thick, pearly glob of cum from your cunt and brought it to his own lips first. He tasted it with a low, full of bliss hum, then leaned in and kissed you deep and filthy, letting the warm, creamy mess dribble slowly from his tongue onto yours. At the same time San’s large hand wrapped gently but firmly around your throat, thumb stroking the delicate column as he felt every swallow.
“That’s it, princess.” San whispered hot against your ear. “Such a good girl, swallow every drop we fucked into this little pretty cunt. Our precious girl, perfect little cumslut.” His thumb pressed lightly against your throat, feeling the movement as you obediently swallowed what Yeosang fed you, and soft moan escaped from his mouth.
Yeosang pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips:
“Taste how well we filled you, baby. All of it belongs to you now.” His free hand stroked tenderly down your trembling stomach while San’s fingers traced slow circles over your collarbone and the swell of your breast.
Wet, filthy slurping sounds echoed off in a small space as San slid down and buried his handsome face between your thighs. He licking long, greedy stripes up your delicate, sticky-glazed labia, before his tongue plunged right into your dripping hole, lapping down the creamy overflow like it was the finest thing he had ever tasted.
Yeosang joined him a moment later, their tongues meeting messily over your swollen folds, kissing and sucking and sharing the taste of you and each other in loud, obscene sounds that made fresh heat coil tight in your belly despite the overwhelming sensitivity. One of San’s hands slid up to grip the back of Yeo’s neck, holding him there as they licked and kissed over your pussy together, while Yeo’s fingers stroked slow, soothing circles on your inner thigh.
When you finally came back to yourself and could move, your body was still shaking and highly sensitive, and your thoughts were in complete disarray. You couldn’t even argue when Yeosang pulling you into his arms, and and sat down on the bench again, gathered you against his sweaty, firm chest. His hands gently spreading your legs wide over his thighs so your fucked, reddened pussy was completely exposed once more.
The sight was pure filthy — your soft, plump pussy swollen and glistening, covered in a thick, sticky glaze of their milky cum that still slowly leaked from your stretched hole in lazy, pearly drips. A copious puddle had formed beneath you on the mat, the entire rug soaked and dark with the evidence of how thoroughly they had ruined you.
San leaned down between your spread thighs, pressing soft, reverent kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, working his way higher with deliberate slowness. You whimpered weakly, one trembling hand trying to push at his shoulder.
“Too sensitive…” You breathed, voice hoarse and broken, your thighs twitching involuntarily under his mouth.
Hot brunette only chuckled, low and dark, the sound vibrating against your skin as he looked up at you with that wicked smile, his lips already shiny with mix of their sperm.
“Baby.” He murmured, voice rich and filthy with promise. “Break is over. It’s time for the second set of exercises.”
Yeosang’s arms tightened around you, holding you open even wider for San’s hot, wanton mouth, one hand stroking possessively over your breast while the other rested lightly on your throat again — not squeezing, just resting there, a constant reminder of how completely they owned you.
Sangie kissed the side of your neck, soft and warm, then whispered hot against your ear:
“And this time, princess… we’re not stopping until you can’t walk. Until this greedy little cunt is so full and so used you’ll still feel us tomorrow with every step you take. You’re going to take everything we give you, aren’t you?”
San’s tongue dragged slowly up your trembling, oversensitive folds as Yeosang spoke, and your whole body jerked with a broken moan, caught helplessly between them.
You let your head fall back against Yeosang’s shoulder with a shaky, broken sound as San’s tongue dragged in one slow, deliberate stripe over your plump, slightly parted labia.
In the thick haze of overstimulation and reluctant new arousal, suddenly, that late-night conversation with Sohee a couple months ago popped into your mind. She had tried so hard to convince you that not all men like perfect, toned bodies, and some of them could crave softness, that they would want something warm and yielding to sink their hands and mouths into without hesitation.
But you had been the one who believed the opposite. You had convinced yourself that someone like Yeosang and San could never truly lust after a body like yours. Yet here they were: San groaning low against the plush, giving flesh of your inner thighs while his fingers sank in with unmistakable reverence, and Yeosang’s hand stroking possessively over the soft curve of your belly as if he never wanted to stop touching you.
The realization settled deep in your bones at the same moment pleasure did. They wanted this. They wanted you, exactly like this. And from the dirty promise in Yeosang’s earlier words and the way San was already losing himself between your legs, it was clear the night had only just begun — and they intended to spend every remaining hour proving just how wrong you had been.
A sun-drenched afternoon by the pool leaves Seungcheol’s drenched white t-shirt burned into your mind. But when the villa finally goes quiet, the playful tension shifts into something far more intense, loud, and impossible for the rest of the group to ignore.
PAIRINGS | Choi Seungcheol x F. Reader
GENRE | smut, pwp
RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked
CONTENT/WARNINGS | non-idols au, swearing, kissing, caressing, unprotective sex (wrap it up folks), oral sex, penetrative sex, hair grabbing, body worship, dirty talk, creampies,
AUTHOR’S NOTE | Because I've been feral for Cheol lately.
Seventeen Masterlist | Main Masterlist
The midday heat at the villa is intense, but nobody seems to care. Seungcheol’s friends—all twelve of them—has turned the backyard pool into an absolute battleground of splashes, chaotic chicken fights, and echoing laughter. You're sitting on the edge of a lounge chair, nursing a cold drink and just taking it all in, when Seungcheol finally hauls himself out of the water.
He's wearing a simple, thin white t-shirt that he foolishly left on when he got pushed into the deep end earlier. Now, the fabric's completely drenched, turning entirely translucent and clinging relentlessly to every line of his chest and abs. As he walks towards you, running a hand through his dripping hair, the wet fabric stretches tight across his broad shoulders.
He stops right in front of your chair, blocking the sun, a breathless, boyish grin plastered on his face.
"Having fun just watching?" he teases, his voice a little raspy from yelling over the music. He leans down, pressing a deliberately cold, wet kiss to your cheek, leaving a damp patch on your skin.
You swallow hard, your eyes involuntarily darting down to the way the wet cotton traces the definition of his torso, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Your heart does a sudden, violent flip.
"Yeah," you manage, your voice a little tighter than usual as you look back up into his dark eyes. "A lot of fun."
He chuckles, entirely oblivious—or maybe entirely aware—of the effect he's having, before being dragged back into the chaos by Seokmin and Mingyu. But for the rest of the afternoon, no matter how loud the guys got, your eyes keep tracking that damp white shirt.
Hours later, the villa finally went quiet. The guys crashed in their respective rooms, exhausted from a day in the sun and a heavy dinner.
You're sitting on the edge of the bed in the room you and Seungcheol share, the cool air conditioning humming softly in the background. The door clicks open, and Seungcheol walks in, freshly showered and wearing nothing but a loose pair of gray sweatpants. His hair is damp again, but this time it smells of the villa’s sharp, clean soap.
He lets out a long sigh of relief, stretching his arms over his head before looking at you. "Man, I love them, but they are exhausting. I'm so glad we finally have some quiet—" he stops mid-sentence, noticing the way your gaze was fixed on him. "What?"
"Nothing," you say quickly, but your eyes betray you, tracing the lines of his chest and stomach, the memory of the wet t-shirt still burning into your mind.
He moves closer, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. The air in the room suddenly feels thicker. "No, it's not nothing," he says, his voice lower now. "You've been looking at me like that since this afternoon. Ever since the pool."
Heat floods your cheeks. You open your mouth to deny it, to say something, anything, but he's already closing the distance between you. He kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees.
"Tell me," he murmurs, his thumbs stroking slow circles on your skin. "What were you thinking about?"
You swallow, your breath hitching. "The... the wet t-shirt," you admit, the words barely a whisper.
His smile widens, a flicker of pride and amusement in his eyes. "Just the shirt?" he pushes, leaning in until his lips are just a breath away from yours. "Or what was under it?"
You let out a shaky breath. "Both."
"Good," he whispers against your mouth before finally kissing you. It isn't soft. It's deep and hungry, a kiss that's been waiting all day to happen. His hands slide from your knees up your thighs, pulling you to the very edge of the bed.
When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless. He looks at you, his eyes dark with a question he doesn't need to ask. You answer by reaching for the hem of your own shirt and pulling it over your head in one smooth motion. His gaze drops, and the last of the playful energy in the room evaporates, replaced by something much more intense.
"Much better," he breathes, leaning in to press a trail of kisses down your neck, his hands exploring the newly exposed skin of your waist and back.
"Cheol, the guys—" you start, your head tipping back to give him better access.
"Don't care," he mumbles against your collarbone, his hands moving around to your stomach, tracing the edge of your shorts. "Let them hear. They should know what happens when my girlfriend comes on a trip with me."
You can't help the small laugh that escapes, but it's quickly cut off by a gasp as he lifts you effortlessly, moving you further back on the bed and hovering over you.
He looks down at you, his expression a mixture of adoration and raw desire. "Now, where were we?" he asks, but he doesn't wait for an answer before leaning down to kiss you again, slow and deep, while his hands work to remove the last barriers between your skin and his.
His thumbs hooks into the waistband of your shorts, dragging them down your legs with a deliberate slowness that made your breath catch. The fabric whispers against your skin before being discarded onto the floor. The cool air of the room is a stark contrast to the warmth of his body, and you shivered, though not from the cold.
Seungcheol’s eyes followed the path of his hands as they travels back up your legs, skimming over your knees, your thighs, settling on your hips. He watches you, cataloging every tiny reaction—the way your stomach tightens, the soft sigh that escapes your lips.
His touch is reverent, almost worshipful, as he leans down to press a kiss just below your navel. Then another, lower still, on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You tangle your fingers in the damp hair at the nape of his neck, a silent encouragement.
He responds by parting your legs gently, settling between them, as he looks up at you. "I'm okay with you screaming for me, baby," he murmurs, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin. "But if you really need to muffle your screams, we can use your pretty panties." he says before he hooks a finger into your panties, pulling them down your legs. "Love eating you out," he confesses, his voice vibrating against you. He then dives in, eating you out like a starved man.
"Cheol," you gasp, your back arching off the bed as he set a devastating rhythm.
He's relentless, using his tongue, his lips, every part of himself to push you higher. He eats you out with the same focused intensity he applies to everything else, as if making you fall apart is the most important thing in the world. One of his hands slide up your body, finding yours, and your fingers lace together, a grounding anchor in the sea of sensation he's creating.
The sounds you're making are uninhibited now, soft cries and gasps filling the quiet room. You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach, a delicious, dizzying spiral. "Cheol, I—"
"I know, baby," he mumbles against you, not stopping. "Let go. I've got you."
His words are the final push you need. The tension snaps, and pleasure crashes over you in a blinding wave. You cry out his name, your body shaking as he works you through it, drawing out every last bit of sensation until you're limp and breathless on the bed.
He kisses his way back up your body, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts before finally reaching your lips. The kiss is slow and deep, tasting of you and him.
When he pulls back, he's smiling, a soft, triumphant look in his eyes. He's still wearing those damn gray sweatpants, and you're suddenly overwhelmed with the need to get rid of them.
"You're still wearing too many clothes," you whisper, your hands sliding down his back to the waistband of his sweatpants. He lets out a soft hum of approval as you tug them down, freeing him.
Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of him, hard and ready for you. You wrap your hand around him, stroking him slowly, watching as his head tips back and a low groan rumbles in his chest.
"Fuck," he breathes, his hips bucking slightly into your touch. "Keep doing that and this'll be over before it starts."
You smile, a slow, satisfied smirk. "We can't have that, can we?"
With a strength that never fails to surprise you, he flips you over, pulling your hips up until you're on your hands and knees. He runs a hand over the curve of your ass, a low, appreciative sound in his throat.
"Seungcheol," you breathe, pushing back against him.
"I'm right here, baby," he murmurs, positioning himself at your entrance. He pushes in slowly, a shared gasp filling the room as he stretches and fills you completely. He pauses for a moment, giving you time to adjust, before starting to move.
The pace he set is deep and deliberate, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes your toes curl. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his harsh breaths.
"God, you feel so good," he grits out, one hand gripping the headboard for leverage, the other splayed across your back. "So fucking good."
You can't form words, can only push back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. The bed's rocking beneath you, the headboard hitting the wall with a soft thud, thud, thud that's a perfect counterpoint to the rhythm he's setting.
You bury your face in the pillows to muffle your cries, his hand skimming up your spine. "I know you feel good baby, but don't forget to breathe," he says, leaning down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades. "I want to hear you."
You turn your head to the side, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Harder, Cheol," you manage to get out. "Please."
Your plea seems to flip a switch in him. The careful control he's been exercising shatters, replaced by a raw, primal need. With a guttural groan, he tightens his grip on your hips and drive into you, the force of it stealing the air from your lungs.
The pace is punishing, a relentless rhythm that has the headboard slamming against the wall with a new, desperate urgency. The sound is loud, unmistakable, and a tiny, hazy part of your brain hopes the villa walls are thicker than they seem. But the rest of you, the part being utterly consumed by Seungcheol, doesn't care at all.
"That what you wanted, baby?" he rasps, his voice straining with the effort. His hands move from your hips, one wrapping around to find your clit, the other tangling in your hair, gently pulling your head back. "You wanted me to fuck you so hard the whole house hears?"
"Yes," you choke out, the word almost unintelligible. "Yes, Cheol, don't stop."
He growls in response, a low, possessive sound from deep in his chest. He doesn't stop. The pressure on your clit is perfect, circling in time with his brutal thrusts, and you can feel yourself hurtling towards the edge again. Your knuckles are white where you're gripping the sheets, your entire body wound tight with anticipation.
"I want you to come for me," he commands, his breath hot against your ear. "Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel you."
His words are your undoing. The world splinters, your vision going white as your orgasm rip through you. You scream into the pillow, your body convulsing with the force of it, your inner walls clamping down around him.
He follows you over the edge seconds later. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you and come with a hoarse shout of your name. His body shudders against yours, and for a long moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged sound of your breathing as you both come down from the high.
He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms and spooning you from behind. He's still inside you, a warm, heavy weight that's surprisingly comforting. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your shoulder.
"You okay?" he murmurs, his voice rough and spent.
You hum contentedly, wiggling back against him. "More than okay," you whisper, turning your head to look at him. His face is flushed, his hair a mess, and he has the most ridiculously satisfied smile on his face.
"Good," he says, kissing you softly. "Because I'm not done with you yet."
And the moment the words leave his mouth, you both hear a banging on the door.
"For the love of God, will you two please shut up!" came Joshua's muffled, but very annoyed, shout from the hallway. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"
Seungcheol just laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that you feel in your own chest. He pulls the covers over both of you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Next time, we get a private villa," he whispers. "No friends."
You cuddle closer to him, a lazy smile on your face. "Next time," you agree, already looking forward to it.
pairing: professor!seungcheol x student!reader
rating: 18+
warnings: slightly suggestive, age gap (cheol is older by 9 years), very vague sex flashbacks
wc: 988
synopsis: you find the hot man you spent your summer with in an unexpected place.
Nothing could've prepared you for the who was on the other end of the black Chelsea boots that are padding onto the small stage of the lecture hall. Thankfully you see him before he sees you and you try to shrink yourself. It's unfortunately too late for you to switch seats so you slump down into your seat.
A string of text messages to your best friend is sent faster than the speed of light.
All you get in response are a bunch of question marks, but before you can respond back, a throat is clearing. Your downfall was looking up, because as soon as you do brown chocolate orbs are staring right at you. There's a tinge of questioning in his eyes and then recognition. The tips of his ears go red.
Averting your gaze, you go back to your phone and respond back to your best friend.
You're unable to stifle the giggle that comes from reading her text. The unmistakeable sound of heads whipping your way rings loud and you can feel the immediate heat at the tips of your ears.
"Something funny, Miss??"
His brow is raised and he repeats himself, asking for your name. You have to fight the scoff that is coming up. Two can play this game.
"YN." You say your name as sweetly as you can. No one else is the wiser but having spent the entire summer with the man, you immediately zeroed in on the way his shoulders stiffened at the sound of your voice.
"And no, Professor Choi. I had a tickle in my throat, that's all." You notice him freeze in place when you refer to him so formally. The moment doesn't last for long, but it happened long enough for you to notice. You can't help but smirk at the knowledge that you still have somewhat of an effect on him.
When you no longer feel his focus is on you, you're left to spiral into what to do from here. Dropping the class is unfortunately not an option as you need it to progress in your major. You could do what you're doing now and pretend the summer between you two never happened.
The only issue is every time he looks at you, he looks at you like he's seen you naked.
Which he has.
It seems like you're only left with one option: confront him and talk out where to go from here. And so you wait; barely paying attention to the lecture, counting down the minutes until this lecture is scheduled to be over, and trying to avoid the heat of his gaze as much as possible.
The last task feels nearly impossible when it feels like he is talking to no one else but you in this lecture hall. You make the fatal mistake of looking up from your laptop. The brown of his eyes are no longer the warm pools of chocolate that basked in the Hawaiian sun with you. No, this was a dark velvet brown, filled with the same hunger of the nights where lust devoured the two of you.
Recollections of your summer escapades flash through your brain as the lecture goes on. The room begins to feel stifling as the clock ticks on. It is a miracle that your brain hasn't turned to mush by the time he's telling your class what chapters they needed to read for the next lecture. Slowly, everyone begins to file out of the hall and you languidly shuffle around. There's one over-eager student that has his attention, but eventually they leave too.
"And then there were two," you say smugly the second the door clicks behind the last student.
"It appears that way," he says eyes roaming up and down your figure. He's leaning back against the stage, arms crossed over in a way that makes his biceps look even bigger than they already are. You finally get a good luck at him. Black slacks and fitted white tee. It's a sin that a man nine years your senior looks this delectable in such a simple outfit. The tan from Hawaii has faded, but his skin still looks radiant. His hair is black now, still short, but you'd never think that he was rocking platinum blond all summer.
Step by step, you close the distance between the two of you. Until suddenly you're standing right in front of him, slightly peering down. There's a race to who breaks the silence first and you beat him by a millisecond.
"Seungcheol. I didn't think you meant this soon." You refer to his last words to you in Hawaii.
He lets out an exasperated sigh and takes your left hand in his wrist. Pushing off the stage, he stands up and stands tall.
"I swear I didn't know."
You give him a look that relieves him of having to explain himself. How could he have known? Even though the two of you spent an entire summer together, the particular details were never shared since the two of you were pretty confident you'd never see each other again.
Hunger is laced in his voice, almost like he was a lion who'd been starved. His hands fall to the back of your thighs as he pulls you in.
"I think… I need a reminder of how Hawaii went."
You place a hand on his chest and softly laugh.
"Can't talk here, we sh-"
He flips you around and plants you in front of him. His breath is hot against the back of your neck and yet your body wracks with shivers.
"Who said anything about talking?"
author's note: i want to revisit this pair in the future, so if anyone screams at me loud enough, i'll write about the summer they spent together. big shoutout to @livmarauder for putting some eyes on this bc i was hating on this and almost didn't post. written in response to this request.
You and Mingyu are childhood friends and two self‑aware comic characters that are forced into clichéd romcom roles you both hate. On the page, he’s the perfect jock and you’re the villainess; off the page, you’re a nerd–queen duo secretly in love. Fed up with scripted drama and unwanted love triangles, you rebel, glitching the comic as the Writer fights to force you back into place. What follows isn’t a romcom but a battle for agency, freedom, and the right to choose each other.
PAIRINGS | Kim Mingyu x F. Reader
GENRE | romantic comedy, smut, angst, drama, childhood friends to lovers, meta, breaking the fourth wall(?)
CONTENT/WARNINGS | non-idols au, swearing, comedy, self-aware characters, verbal jabs, reader is a bully but she can't help it because that's how her character is written, punching and grabbing narration boxes, forced scripted “scenes” (comic scenes), miscommunication, yearning, kissing, caressing, unprotective sex (wrap it up folks), shower sex, oral sex, hair grabbing
AUTHOR’S NOTE | She's finally doneeeeee! This fic is for the SVTFLIX collab hosted by @100vern. It's loosely inspired by the k-drama Extra-Ordinary You and I had soooo much fun writing this 💚. Thank you @livmarauder for reading a portion of this and hyping me up as I write this and thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for reading the whole thing when I thought I was going crazy that my ending was rushed. Maybe we'll have a part 2???
Seventeen Masterlist | Main Masterlist
PANEL 1 — WIDE SHOT: CAMPUS QUAD, GOLDEN HOUR.
Students stroll across the lawn in perfect symmetry. Cherry blossoms drift in slow motion. A sparkly pink narration box hovers above the scene like a smug cloud.
NARRATION: Springtime at Carat University, where love blooms, hearts flutter, and destiny awaits...
PANEL 2 — CLOSE ON YOU
You’re standing dead center, holding a coffee. You stare directly at the narration box with the expression of someone who's been dealing with this for far too long.
“Don’t you dare,” you warn it.
The narration box flickers.
NARRATION: ...and the villainess plots her next—
“NOPE,” you snap, grabbing the box mid‑air like it’s a misbehaving balloon. “We talked about this. No villain monologues before 9 a.m.” You fold the narration box until it is the approximate dimensions of a post-it note and shove it into your pocket.
The rest of the campus, meanwhile, bustles around you like nothing happened. Like it never happens. Like there isn't a floating narration box following you from birth and plotting your eventual fall from grace. You really should start looking into those therapy services offered by the mental health office. You know they can't help you with "being narrated since birth," but it's probably the next best thing, right?
Anyway, it's spring and, frankly, you're very tired.
You, Y/N, are the notorious campus queen: the stunning daughter of an affluent political family and the presumed villainous antagonistic force in Kim Mingyu's, your childhood friend, star-crossed love story. For three volumes and counting, you, Mingyu and Lee Ara have fallen into a rhythmic dance of misunderstandings, relationship dramas, and flashy battles all leading to one, inevitable conclusion: Mingyu and Ara will fall in love and live happily ever after.
Or that's how it's supposed to work.
Except none of that happens in the shadows, the white spaces that the Writer's pen never quite fills in. Those are the places where characters come to life in ways even the omnipotent Writer can't see coming. Like when Mingyu saved you from a car last spring. Or that night you snuck into the school pool together and splashed around instead of studying. When it was just the two of you, when no one could see, no one was writing. When everything seemed perfectly scripted without a script.
In those moments, when the narration box couldn't reach you, nothing else seemed quite as important as his smile.
Until the next scene began, that was.
You don't remember when you and Mingyu became aware of the fact that none of this was real. You always thought that you were losing your memory, wondering how you ended up at home when you were just in class seconds ago, how so much time seemed to pass without your realizing it. It didn't click until you were aimlessly roaming the school halls one afternoon and noticed the air fluttering unnaturally around you, things moving floating out of place in the corner of your vision and an unsettling feeling of something. A presence? A monster? A force beyond your knowing and naming trying to reach out to you.
When you talked to people, they'd be confused or dismissive, thinking you're joking. And when you'd ask them again some time later, they wouldn't know what you meant and keep repeating the same responses over and over, no matter how many times you would try and ask, hoping it'd finally ilicit a different response.
Finally, you tried talking to Mingyu about what was happening to you, only to find Mingyu was feeling exactly the same way. That things were happening without his express conscious will, and he felt the presence of something vaguely sinister outside of his direct sphere.
That's when you both realized the absurd, nonsensical reality that you're living in a webtoon, in a narrative world crafted by someone who felt very little need or concern for either of your agency. That something, a presence beyond human knowledge and imagination, was dictating and guiding you along towards an end goal: an inevitable romance between Kim Mingyu, the male lead, and Lee Ara, the female lead, and you're left to be the evil side character who had to be defeated for Mingyu and Ara to obtain their Happy Ever After.
Which sucks ass because you really like Mingyu. Maybe even a little too much. And you know, deep down, that the feeling is mutual. The Writer might make you do whatever she wants to further the plot, like flirt with Mingyu against your will during scripted love tropes. But whenever the writer isn't actively intervening, you get to be just you and Mingyu, and not the fictional, plot-dictated versions of you two that are forced together by the writer. You wonder sometimes, if it wasn't for this damned world, if you'd be happily dating each other.
You feel the narration box wriggling in your pocket, desperate to escape and comment. To announce loudly, obviously that you'll do whatever you can to disrupt Kim Mingyu and Lee Ara from meeting, but ultimately end up helping the course of fate along because the Writer makes it so. Because the narrative demands a twist at the very last second, and Kim Mingyu can't end up with you.
With a sigh, you take the now much smaller narration box out and unfold it, letting its words be absorbed back into reality:
NARRATION: ...and the villainess plots her next loser plan to keep our golden boy and pure maiden away from each other.
"I fucking hate you," you mutter under your breath.
Just then, a slim figure rounds the corner: Lee Ara in all of her oblivious perfection, wearing a fluffy dress that no college student would survive in, looking very much like she is running towards you.
PANEL 3 — BUST SHOT: YOU, GLOWERING.
Your lips curl up into your default, scheming smile. You really wish it didn't feel so natural.
PANEL 4 — EXTREME CLOSE UP ON LEE ARA.
Her hair blows dramatically out of the way as she stares determinedly ahead like this isn't a typical, daily interaction for the two of you. You can't tell if it's supposed to look brave or goofy, but it sure isn't intimidating.
"Ara, you look absolutely stunning today," you feel your eye twitch as the words leave your mouth, words you didn't choose, didn't want to say, words that materialized on your tongue like someone else is operating your vocal cords.
Which, technically, someone was.
Ara blinks up at you with those impossibly wide doe eyes. "Oh! Um, thank you? That's... really nice of you to say."
No, it fucking isn't, you thought viciously, even as your face arranges itself into what you know is a calculated, mean-girl smirk.
"I just wanted to say," your mouth continues without your permission, and you feel the familiar horror of a scripted scene taking over, "that dress is so brave. Not everyone could pull off that... particular shade of yellow."
There it is. The backhanded compliment. Right on schedule.
Ara's face falls slightly, and you want to scream. You helped her pick out that dress last week during your actual, off-page friendship that the Writer conveniently ignores. You told her the sunshine yellow made her look like bottled happiness.
"Oh," Ara says softly. "I... thank you?"
"If you like looking like you're blocking traffic, then feel free to keep wearing it," you snort and then the scene releases you like a puppet with cut strings, and you immediately grab Ara's arm. "Wait, that came out wrong—"
PANEL 5 — ARA TURNS.
She's already walking away, and you know why. The Writer has got what they wanted: another moment of you being terrible to the heroine. Another panel of the villainess doing villainess things.
You stand there in the middle of the quad, students flowing around you like water around a stone, and contemplate the very real possibility of screaming until your throat bleeds.
"Rough scene?"
You don't have to turn around to know who it is. You recognize that voice anywhere. It's the voice that makes your stomach do complicated acrobatic routines, the one that belongs to your best friend since childhood, the one that's supposed to fall in love with Ara and definitely not with you.
"Mingyu," you say, turning to face him. "I just told Ara her dress makes her look like a jaundiced traffic cone. How do you think it went?"
Mingyu winces, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. He's wearing his usual off-scene outfit: an oversized hoodie that's seen better days, glasses slightly askew, hair unstyled and falling into his eyes. He looks nothing like the chiseled, perfectly-coiffed golden boy who appeared in the actual comic panels.
"Ouch," he says. "Did you at least get to apologize before the scene ended?"
"Tried. She walked away. The Writer probably needed her to be sad for the next panel where you comfort her and she realizes she has feelings for you for the millionth time," you make a gagging noise. "I hate this. I hate all of this."
"I know," Mingyu falls into step beside you as you start walking toward your next class. "I had a scene this morning where I had to flex at the gym for fifteen minutes while Ara watched from the doorway. Fifteen minutes, Y/N. Do you know how long fifteen minutes of flexing is?"
Despite everything, you snort. "Did you at least get a good pump?"
"I got a cramp in my left bicep and the overwhelming desire to go home and read my economics textbook," he pauses. "Which I did, by the way. Chapter twelve is fascinating. Did you know that—"
"Mingyu, I love you, but if you start explaining supply and demand curves right now, I will push you into that trash can."
The words hung in the air for a moment. I love you. You said it all the time, had said it for years, best friends who'd grown up together and know each other's every secret.
But lately, the words felt heavier.
Mingyu's ears turned red, they always did when you said it, even casually, and he clears his throat. "Right. No economics. Got it."
You reach your classroom and stop, turning to face him fully. He's tall, he'd always been tall, but he hunches slightly, like he's trying to take up less space. It's such a contrast to his on-page persona, where he stands with the confidence of someone who'd never doubted himself a day in his life.
"Same time tonight?" you ask. "My place? We can finish studying for that chem mid."
His face splits into a grin, a wide, boyish one that makes his glasses slide down to the tip of his nose. "Definitely," he agrees. "Maybe without the interruption this time."
PANEL 6 — ARA WALKING TOWARDS MINGYU
"And here I go," you mutter, "back to fading into the background so these two can have their meet-cute."
"I'm really sorry," Mingyu says again, "and I know that doesn't mean anything. I hope I can—"
NARRATION: ...Kim Mingyu notices his true love standing alone in the corner, a beautiful flower ready to bloom into...
"You changed into your jock gear," you note, sounding unimpressed, as Mingyu looks down and realizes that yes, he's wearing the clothes his character usually wears to work out instead of the sweater he wore before.
"Fuck," he sighs, "Here I go, I guess."
"You want me to text you after?" you ask him.
He nods, giving you a strained smile, and says, "Please."
PANEL 7 — SLOW ZOOM-IN ON ARA'S FLAWLESS SKIN AS SHE LOOKS UP AND ATTENDS MINGYU'S DAZZLING SMILE, HEARTS POPPING AROUND HER AS WE DRAMATICALLY FOCUS IN ON MINGYU.
"Ara! Just the girl I wanted to see."
You let out a long sigh, before turning away from the pair. Your story might be stuck in this linear route, but you really don't have to stick around and watch the love of your life play his part in this tale.
PANEL 8 — Y/N WALKS AWAY, SHOULDERS HUNCHED, BACKGROUND BLURRING INTO SOFT PASTELS AS THE ROMANTIC SCENE CONTINUES BEHIND HER
Each step away feels like wading through honey. You can hear Ara's delighted laugh behind you, that genuine, sweet sound that makes you hate yourself for being scripted to hurt her. You can hear Mingyu's voice doing that thing: that confident, flirty thing that isn't him at all.
The real Mingyu stutters when he's nervous. The real Mingyu talks about economic theory at 2AM and falls asleep with his glasses on.
But the Writer doesn't care about the real Mingyu.
PANEL 9 — CLOSE-UP ON Y/N'S FACE, EXPRESSION CAREFULLY NEUTRAL, BUT EYES BETRAYING PAIN
NARRATION: Meanwhile, the villainess retreats to lick her wounds, knowing she can never compete with—
"Oh, fuck off," you snap, reaching up to grab the narration box again. It's vibrating indignantly, trying to narrate your heartbreak into something convenient for the plot.
You squeeze it harder.
"You don't get to narrate this. This part is mine."
You track down Jeon Wonwoo, the webtoon's dark, brooding second male lead, in the library—specifically, on one of the beanbag chairs near the back. Wonwoo's sprawled out like an overly pretentious Renaissance statue, head titled to the sky, eyes closed, reading glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose, a heavy, glossy book perched precariously on his chest.
"What happened this time?" He mumbles. "Faded into the back like usual before the scene started?"
Wonwoo became self-aware just like you and Mingyu; about five episodes ago. And also like you and Mingyu, he didn't come into his new reality prepared. He hadn't realized it at first. He was too busy brooding and contemplating life's meaning, so it wasn't until he was speaking to Mingyu about his memory blackouts. That was when Mingyu called you over, and the three of you had had the worst meeting you could've imagined.
Wonwoo wasn't particularly enthused to find out he was a love interest. He wasn't really interested in the romantic side of things in general. Not when he was made out to be the mysterious, dark bad boy who sulks in corners, glares at people, and spends too much money on poetry books that aren't actually worth their cost.
"Fuck me," you drop yourself into the bean bag beside him, throwing your backpack across the table and letting out the loudest, most exasperated sigh of frustration known to mankind.
"You can let Mingyu do that once he's back in the shadows," Wonwoo chuckles softly as he flips a page of the book.
"And then what will happen when we have sex and a scene between him and Ara happens?" You glare at him. "He vanishes from my bed, to confess to a woman he doesn't even like? You want that to happen? I sure as hell don't."
"Then don't have sex." Wonwoo doesn't look up from his book.
"...That's your answer?"
"Don't have sex and become canon."
"I..." you let out an incredulous laugh, reaching for the nearest object near you to throw. You grab a discarded highlighter and throw it at his forehead, causing him to shut his book and finally glance over at you. "If only it were that easy, asshole."
"Can I go back to my book, or have you finally broken?" Wonwoo looks bored out of his mind as he speaks.
"We're talking about my and Mingyu's relationship. Mingyu and mine's. I hate being the villain. I'm the most popular fucking girl on campus. I'm nice to everyone, and I somehow still get treated like an evil piece of shit when a scene starts." You kick your leg up for dramatic effect, which causes a few students around you to shift uncomfortably. "This is bullshit!"
Wonwoo picks up the highlighter you threw at him and examines it like it's a particularly uninteresting specimen. "You done?"
"No, I'm not—"
"Good. Because you're making a scene, and the last thing either of us needs is to trigger another scripted moment." He tosses the highlighter back to you. "Go study with your boyfriend. At least off-page you can pretend you have free will."
You catch the highlighter reflexively, your anger deflating into something closer to exhaustion. He's right, of course. He's always right in the most infuriating way possible.
"He's not my boyfriend," you mutter, but it sounds hollow even to your own ears.
"Semantics." Wonwoo reopens his book. "Now get out of here before the Writer decides we're having a moment and I have to brood attractively at you."
Your apartment is blessedly, perfectly normal.
No cherry blossoms. No golden hour lighting. No background music swelling as you open the door. Just your slightly messy living room with Mingyu already sprawled on your couch, his laptop open, surrounded by a frankly alarming number of economics textbooks.
He's wearing his glasses, the ones that never appear on-page because apparently the Writer thinks they make him look "too nerdy" for a male lead. His hair is unstyled, falling into his eyes. He's wearing a hoodie that's two sizes too big and sweatpants with a hole in the knee.
This is the real Kim Mingyu.
"You're late," he says without looking up from his screen, but there's no accusation in his voice. Just familiarity.
"Wonwoo was being useless." You drop your bag by the door and collapse onto the couch next to him, close enough that your thigh presses against his. "How was the rest of your day? Did the Writer make you do anything else humiliating?"
"Define humiliating." Mingyu finally glances at you, and his expression softens. "I had to carry Ara's books to her next class. My hands were full, so I couldn't even text you to complain about it in real-time."
"Tragic."
"It really was." He shifts his laptop to the coffee table and turns to face you properly. "She kept talking about how strong I must be. I'm not even that strong. I'm just tall. There's a difference."
You can't help but smile. "You're a little strong."
"I have the upper body strength of a particularly determined pool noodle." He pushes his glasses up his nose, a nervous habit he's had since you were kids. "How was your scene with her? The dress thing?"
Your smile fades. "I told her she looked like a sad banana."
"You didn't—"
"I did. Well, the Writer did. Through my mouth." You lean your head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. "We picked out that dress together last weekend. She was so excited about it. And then I had to stand there and watch my own mouth form words about how it washed her out."
Mingyu is quiet for a moment. Then his hand finds yours, fingers interlacing with a practiced ease that comes from years of this, this thing between you that has no name because the Writer won't allow it one.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly.
"Not your fault."
"Still sorry."
This is what you love about him. Not the on-page version with the perfect smile and the athletic build and the confident swagger. This Mingyu, who apologizes for things he can't control and stutters when he's nervous and gets genuinely excited about fiscal policy.
This Mingyu, who has held your hand through every forced scene and every narrative violation and every moment where you've both felt like puppets with cut strings.
"Did you finish the problem sets?" you ask, because if you keep thinking about how much you love him, you might do something stupid. Like kiss him. And if you kiss him off-page, there's no telling what the Writer might do to punish you for it.
"Most of them." He reaches for his laptop again, but doesn't let go of your hand. "I got stuck on number seven. The one about market equilibrium."
"Let me see."
You spend the next two hours like this, working through economics problems, your head eventually finding its way to his shoulder, his thumb tracing absent patterns on your knuckles. He explains supply curves with the kind of enthusiasm most people reserve for their favorite movies. You argue about elasticity and make him laugh so hard he snorts.
No narration box appears to comment on the "comfortable silence" or the "unspoken tension." No background music swells. No cherry blossoms drift past your window.
It's just you and Mingyu, existing in the spaces between the story.
"I wish it could always be like this," you murmur at some point, when the sky outside has gone dark and you've both abandoned any pretense of studying.
Mingyu's arm is around your shoulders now. You're not sure when that happened, but it feels right. Natural. Like this is how you're supposed to fit together.
"Me too," he says, pressing a light, half-awake kiss against the crown of your head. "Just like this."
You lean into his warmth, your eyelids fluttering closed as you memorize the weight and shape of his arm against you, his head resting against yours, the steadiness of his breathing as he begins to drift off. You memorize it all.
You memorize every last detail.
Because when you open your eyes, you're alone again.
PANEL 1 — MEDIUM CLOSE-UP ON KIM MINGYU, RUNNING ON A TREADMILL AND CONSIDERING THE THOUGHTS IN HIS GORGEOUS HANDSOME BRAIN
"Damn," Mingyu mutters as he treads, "I can't even sleep peacefully on the couch with the woman I'm hopelessly in love with."
PANEL 2 — WONWOO, EXHAUSTED AND DEBATING LEAVING MINGYU TRAINING TO WALLOW IN HIS MELANCHOLY MUSINGS BY HIMSELF
"I fucking hate my life." Wonwoo groans out his displeasure. He wonders how much trouble he'd get in if he "accidentally" hit the speed button and watches Mingyu flail off the treadmill.
NARRATION: Back on campus, the handsome male lead dwells on the true love he so sorely misses.
Mingyu grabs the narration box and flings it into the nearest corner of the gym, where it blinks weakly and powers itself off to spare itself any further humiliation.
"You done?" Wonwoo asks, the picture of composure and zen.
"No, I'm still fucking pissed off!" Mingyu hops off the treadmill and heads straight for the boxing station, grabbing some tape and bandages and wrapping up his fists in record time.
"Do you wanna tell me why you're pissed off this time, or are we just gonna keep going back and forth like this forever?"
"Y/N and I were just working on the homework, and it was... perfect. It felt perfect. Right. It was good—real good. But then, before I could realize what had happened, the Writer snatched me and now here we are."
Wonwoo nods along like the therapist that his character and personality have inexplicably deemed him, and sighs deeply.
"Happens to me all the time." Wonwoo goes about packing up his belongings for his trip back home. "One moment I'm helping one of the female side characters with a jammed door lock and the next moment I'm staring at Ara for four pages straight wondering if I want her to be my first or last kiss. Every. Damn. Time."
"You poor thing," Mingyu mumbles condescendingly as he furiously punches the boxing bag.
Wonwoo steps away as he watched the narration box slowly creep over to join the two men. "A scene is starting soon, just warning you now."
PANEL 3 — MINGYU CONTINUES TO HIT THE BOXING BAG, UNTIL HE HEARS A SUDDEN CRACK.
NARRATION: He swings and it hits. His fists continue, his speed increasing as he repeats a simple question in his head: why is Y/N messing with Ara?
PANEL 4 — MINGYU STILL BEATING THE HELL OUT OF THE BOXING BAG.
NARRATION: Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. His anger is spilling out like a broken kettle, and its burning, stinging him.
"STOP!" Mingyu shouts to no one in particular, punching the narration box instead of the bag.
"And this is why I wanted to stay home," Wonwoo murmurs out loud. "I hate these things."
"Why can't someone else be the main character?" Mingyu whines. "It doesn't have to be me."
"Because you're the one with huge muscles, you're tall, and you've got the best abs in the entire school?" Wonwoo offers bluntly.
Mingyu doesn't answer and turns his attention to the boxing bag again, throwing several more powerful punches until suddenly, the narration box begins to hover, drawing both men's attention as a new caption begins to write itself:
NARRATION: As his heart screams and his fists bleed, the only image that flashes through Mingyu's mind is Ara.
Mingyu screeches, throwing the gloves at the boxing bag this time. "LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU EVIL BOX. STOP SHOVING ME BACK INTO THE CAST OF THIS DUMBASS STORY."
PANEL 5 — KIM MINGYU IS PISSED
NARRATION: An irrational urge seeps into him. An urge to reach his hand into his own heart, find Ara, and...
Wonwoo narrows his eyes suspiciously at the box and waves a finger in Mingyu's direction, directing his attention. "Stop."
"It's not going to work!" He screams at the narration box. "LEAVE MY HEART ALONE YOU STUPID BOX!"
But the narration continues to hover, circling Mingyu like the ring leader of a very messed up circus. Mingyu swings for it with his bare hands, punching at the thin air before it moves out of the way, now standing closer to him than it was a moment ago, the writing appearing faster. The text is bold and demanding now.
NARRATION: The urge is too powerful. He sees Ara's face, and all he can think about is her.
"NO!" Mingyu screams, tears of pure, unfiltered rage welling in the corners of his eyes as he punches the wall beside him, putting a hole through it. "I DON'T LOVE ARA. I DON'T."
The wall patches itself instantly, the hole vanishing as if it were never there. But the crack in Mingyu's composure remains, spiderwebbing across the surface of the Writer's perfect narrative.
"It's trying to rewrite you," Wonwoo says, suddenly serious. "Pushing you into the corner where you have no choice but to think about her. It's rewriting your thoughts, Mingyu."
The narration box pulses with an almost smug satisfaction. The new words appear, glowing with an unsettling light.
NARRATION: His heart belongs to Ara. It has always been Ara. It will always be Ara.
"It's not true," Mingyu whispers, his anger deflating into a desperate plea. He's looking at Wonwoo now, really looking at him. His knuckles are bleeding from the punch. "It's not true, is it?"
Wonwoo sets down his bag and crosses the distance between them. For once, he doesn't look bored or annoyed. He looks like a soldier assessing battlefield damage.
"You know the answer to that," Wonwoo says quietly, so quietly that the narration box might not catch it. "The question is, how much of you is still left for you?" He glances at the hovering box. "The Writer is getting more aggressive. This is new. This is... invasive."
They've fought scenes before. They've tried to walk the other way, to mumble their lines until the scene reset, to trip over conveniently placed props. They've tried everything, but it's always been external. Pushing against the boundaries of their world, not the boundaries of their minds.
This feels different. This feels like a violation.
"I can't..." Mingyu staggers back, leaning against the now-perfect wall. "I feel it. Trying to get in. Like... like static in my head. A thought that's not my thought."
Wonwoo's face is grim. He's read every book in this godforsaken library, including the ones on psychology he never wanted to read. He knows what gaslighting looks like. He knows what brainwashing feels like. And this has all the hallmarks of both.
"It wants you to break," Wonwoo states, his voice flat. "It wants you to give in and accept the role. If it can't control your actions, it'll try to control your mind."
PANEL 6 — Y/N WALKING INTO THE GYM DRESSED IN TOO TIGHT WORKOUT CLOTHES TO TURN ANY MAN'S HEAD.
"What kind of scene is this?" You mutter to yourself as you pass the two men and head towards the cycling machine in the other room.
NARRATION: As Y/N crosses the room, a flash of anger illuminates the depths of Mingyu's soul.
"Huh?" You stop short, one leg forward as the narration begins to morph again.
NARRATION: As she crosses the room, Mingyu can't take it anymore. Just the sight of her makes Mingyu burn with hatred.
"Well, fuck you too, buddy," you murmur at the box now trying to smack you in the face. You don't even need to stick around to know where this scene is headed, and you aren't going to stick around when Ara bounces through the doors in her pink sports attire to try and talk Mingyu down from his fury.
"Ugh," you groan as you walk into the cycling room and find that this is already the set up for a scene. "Oh, this is just perfect."
"Y/N!" Someone calls you, and it's Seungcheol, a supporting character in this shitfest who's written to have a crush on you. His smile is easy, and so is he, because in this dumb universe, Seungcheol is so much less important than the main character and you're allowed to trample all over his heart, though he somehow continues to pine for you.
"Oh, hey there," you offer a grin and head over to the spin bike next to him, joining him and his row of friends from the track team. The nameless ones. All of them here to serve a single purpose—and yet none of them are aware enough to break out of it.
You know when a scene starts because suddenly, you're having a casual conversation. Everything about your posture is suddenly just slightly more interesting—your lips redder, your cheeks rounder, the cut of your collarbones subtly highlighted by the shine from the lights above you. Everything is suddenly for show, but this time, so are you. You're not speaking the lines you want.
PANEL 7 — YOU INSIDE THE CYCLE ROOM, ON YOUR BIKE AND TALKING TO SEUNGCHEOL.
NARRATION: Y/N tries desperately to seduce a certain boy. She teases him in her sickly sweet tone.
"Cheol!" You greet, laughing at one of his jokes. You know what's coming next, and you know that you aren't saying this and yet the words escape anyway, as if they belong to someone else. You hate it. You hate this.
NARRATION: Seungcheol teases her right back, not knowing that Mingyu is watching their every move.
"Maybe you could give me some more advanced lessons," you bat your eyelashes and flash Seungcheol that sweet smile. You hope you don't throw up.
NARRATION: So distracted, she didn't notice Ara right behind her.
You glance down as you begin to cycle, glancing behind you for a split second. There are too many characters in here, and there's no guarantee that the story won't make an extra scene out of your path crossing with any of them, and your luck really does run out, because right there, in pink workout gear to match Mingyu's blue, is Ara, pretending not to watch you and Seungcheol.
PANEL 8 — Y/N FINALLY NOTICING ARA.
"So much for privacy." You scowl, your voice pitched higher to catch the attention of the one-woman audience that's suddenly in this scene. You know it's just a scene, you don't mean what you're saying and you definitely did not mean to flirt with Seungcheol. You get angry thinking about how fake this entire world is. "What?" You turn to look at Ara, tilting your head and smirking. "You've never seen a man and a woman flirting before?"
"I-" Ara starts, but suddenly looks downright uncomfortable. "It's not like that, Y/N."
You sigh and turn forward, meeting the screen again and shaking your head at how utterly useless it is to try and even change things. No one's in this scene to notice what you say, so why does the story even care? The story is stupid, and pointless, and written entirely around Ara and you don't care who's on board. "Why should you care who I flirt with anyway? You got Mingyu wrapped around your pretty little fingers, don't you?"
"I would never," Ara tries again. "He's-"
"He's what? Something else I can never have?" You're a villain through and through, apparently, and the Writer wants this kind of drama. "It's cute how you think I'll stay away, just because of a little warning." You smirk and wait a beat, just to watch the discomfort bloom across Ara's face. "We both know you don't have the stomach to threaten me back."
PANEL 9 — MINGYU STEPS IN
You can see the look in Mingyu's eyes. He doesn't care about what the narration is doing, apparently, and in the midst of this disaster of a story, you suddenly realize it.
"Mingyu," Ara almost sighs. "I- please don't-"
"You." He points to you, and for a brief second, you can see how Mingyu clenches his fist, trying to fight against the word that's already forming on his lips. "Watch it."
"Mm, and if I don't?" You shrug, innocently pouting and getting off the bike. You ran your fingers down his chest, making sure to keep eye contact. "What are you going to do to me, Kim Mingyu?" You lick your lips and don't stop touching him, running your fingers down his torso and the planes of his muscles, one hand over his arm and the other curled up to grip at his chest. "Don't you think you and I have more fun ways to play, or have you forgotten about the night we-"
Mingyu holds on to your wrist tightly, holding your touch away from him. "Shut your mouth."
You look up at him and bite your lip, shrugging again. "Or what?"
"Please stop, Mingyu!" Ara tugs at the side of his t-shirt, begging Mingyu, who barely notices.
He was there, during that one weekend, when the story took a vacation and let your real selves drive. Neither of you were ready to stop. Neither of you were ready to be written and puppeteered as the main characters. There's so much Mingyu wants to say right now. Instead, the Writer uses his mouth to spit vitriol and spite.
"Stay the fuck out of my life, and off my girl," Mingyu hisses. "Do whatever the fuck you want, but stay the hell away from her."
"Oh wow." You roll your eyes and pull away from him, wiping his hand down your skirt. "Protective, aren't we?" You cross your arms and lean into his personal space. "Wouldn't want me to show her how much better I could fuck you, huh?"
Ara gasps, backing away and covering her mouth with her hands. "Why would you say such a thing!" She screeches at you, and you shrug it off.
"That's not happening." Mingyu narrows his eyes at you, fists curling into themselves.
PANEL 10 — INTENSION OF RAGE HANGING AROUND MINGYU.
"Now that just sounds like a challenge, handsome," you tap the tip of his nose and flash him that perfect smirk, the kind designed to bring even the biggest, baddest, male characters to their knees. You turn away, and head to leave the gym. "Your girlfriend can keep playing house, but you and me?" You blow him a kiss as you walk to the changing rooms. "I'm always down to play rough."
And as you walk away, you can hear the familiar sound of fists punching a bag, Mingyu screaming, and a heartbreaking "I hate her!" that makes the Writer grin in delight.
When the door to the changing rooms close, you sink to the ground, pulling your knees up to your chest and fighting back the tears in the corner of your eyes. You hate this. You don't want to be a villain. You just want to love him and be loved, and the Writer just refuses to let that happen.
For the next thirty minutes, the Writer leaves you alone, and you're curled up against the bench as you cry. The last thing you really needed was Mingyu to actually hate you.
And you hate the thought of being anyone's villain. Especially his.
Mingyu finds you curled up in your bed. Not just a lump under a mound of pillows. In your bed, buried underneath the blankets and nursing a tub of ice cream.
"You okay?" he asks gently.
"Not really," you mutter and take another spoonful of ice cream, avoiding eye contact. You're being grumpy and pathetic, but you don't really care.
Mingyu grabs the tub of ice cream and places it on your nightstand, not caring if it'll melt, as he gathers you into his arms, letting you wrap your own around his torso.
"I don't like doing it," Mingyu whispers. "It was-" He takes a deep breath and holds you a little tighter. "God, saying those things to you, I hate that the Writer made me do it. Even the visual of... of-" He doesn't need to finish his sentence.
"Me and Seungcheol," you mumble, and let him lift your chin.
Mingyu nods. "But Y/N-" He searches your face and taps your forehead. "I didn't mean a single bit of it. None of it. Never. Okay? I would never ever treat you like that, okay?"
Your eyes tear up, and you nod, biting your lip and trying to get rid of the sting of the Writer's manipulations.
"And I hate myself for hurting you like that," he admits softly. "Even if I didn't mean it, I still said it, and that hurts. But... but at least we're self-aware?" He gives you an awkward grin.
You manage a laugh through the tears. It was a crap day, and maybe Mingyu wasn't helping, but your favorite thing about your best friend has always been that you feel understood when you're with him.
"This is hard," Mingyu groans, flopping backward on your bed. He hugs you close to him, so you don't flail around. "Can't we just," he moves one hand, gesturing wildly "I dunno, rewrite this stupid thing so we're happy?"
"If only that was a possibility," you giggle.
"Wait," Mingyu props himself up on an elbow. His eyes sparkle. "Wait. Y/N, what if we do exactly that."
"What," you roll your eyes and give Mingyu a blank look, not trusting his tone.
"Seriously! Let's rewrite this ourselves," Mingyu exclaims. "You and I, Wonwoo too, are self-aware. Why don't we work together to change things? It could work, don't you think?"
"What would we change, Gyu?" You ask him, a tiny glint of hope lighting up behind your irises.
"Well, to start," Mingyu grimaces. "Maybe, uh, have the Writer stop trying to make you kiss the entire university population, yikes."
You grimace and lift your hands up to the sky as if you're going to fight the Writer's pen with your bare hands. "That's a damn start. My god, we need a human resources department for this shit."
"It's more like human rewrite department and I'll file a complaint," Mingyu deadpans and the two of you share a quick look before bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, needing this moment of levity after the exhausting scenes you're usually roped into.
"Wait, wait," you can't believe how many brilliant ideas come to you once you give yourself an afternoon to wallow. "Wonwoo!" You glance around as you grab Mingyu's phone from the floor, quickly dialing Wonwoo's number and grinning mischievously when it picks up. "We're forming a union. Bring beer. See you later." And then you hang up.
Mingyu is beside himself in a fit of laughter. "Oh man, won't the writer be pissed when they find out three of their characters are rebelling against the plot line."
"I hate this stupid plotline," you groan. "I'm the most popular girl in school but what does the narrative care about?! Me kissing a different character every week. I swear, we're literally nothing more than tropes used just to create more drama for the narrative, and it's annoying and pointless and I've had enough!" You let out a long, loud sigh and Mingyu grins.
"Damn, you're hot when you're angry," Mingyu mutters and when you give him a look, he looks away with flushed cheeks.
"Gross." Wonwoo let's himself into your apartment and holds up the beers. "Union time, but please. Can you not flirt with each other. I've dealt with enough forced bullshit today."
"What happened?" You look over the couch and see a distressed looking Wonwoo, your confusion and Mingyu's morphing into that same glare the two of you shared mere hours ago. "Did you just get some scene thrown into your storyline as well?"
Wonwoo winces and rubs the back of his neck. "I was forced out of the comfort of my own apartment to walk around the campus with Ara, the words spewing from my own tongue saying how she's everything I want and more, and how her personality is so cute, I can't get her off my mind, bla bla bla..."
The two of you just sit there, horror written on your face as the thought of a love sick Wonwoo has your brain nearly short circuiting.
"Dude, what the hell," Mingyu gags and shudders. "Was this scene like-" he pauses, horrified with the thought that passes through his mind. "Don't tell me. I don't want to imagine it."
"Neither did I, believe me, Mingyu. Please don't say anything else. I had to go through five showers with nearly boiling hot water to rid the thoughts of even holding her hand." Wonwoo winces as the memory makes his skin crawl. "Okay. So." Wonwoo nods. "Union time!"
As the sun dips low beyond the horizon and night overtakes the room, the three of you drink and dream and plan for the world that's promised. It's been far too long, since you've allowed yourself to dream. But with Mingyu and Wonwoo? It might actually work.
"Holy shit, guys." You stare up at the building looming overhead and then at the sign next to the door, squinting and reading out loud. "'Humanity Rewrite Agency. The world's solution to author control.'"
"I was kidding about it," Mingyu starts as he looks between his co-conspirators. "But there's really a HR building in the shadows? Do you think the Writer knows about this place?"
"Dude, if it's in the shadows then they won't be able to see it," Wonwoo shakes his head, almost wanting to laugh at the three of you standing outside of the building. It was a spur of the moment decision to go into the HR building, and though the three of you were pretty serious about the whole union thing, it all seems a bit far-fetched.
"Alright, let's go," You shrug and make your way up to the sliding doors, pushing in and finding the empty reception desk. "Um. Excuse us?"
A person pops out from beneath the desk, glasses askew and jacket slightly messed up. "Y-yes, how can I help you today?"
"We're thinking about forming a union? And thought a place like this might help, given it's hidden in the shadows." Wonwoo comments casually, leaning on the counter.
The receptionist's mouth opens, surprised. "A union?" Their eyes drift from Mingyu, to Wonwoo, and settle on your gaze. Their eyes soften, lips parting a moment later as a few memories spark in their mind. "Oh. Oh, dear. You three really are self-aware, huh." The receptionist, who's name tag reads Joshua, snaps out of his thoughts and offers a kind smile. "You're not the only self-aware characters working through an issue. Follow me." Joshua spins around the desk, flicking off the switch to the light above and disappearing into the hallway behind him, beckoning the three of you to follow. "You must know about Danoh and Haru, right? What happens to them in Secrets? What happens after?"
"Secrets?" Your brow furrows as your try to connect the dots, knowing very little about the book in question.
"I see you three really haven't done your due diligence then." Joshua laughs a moment later, voice light and cheerful. "Secrets is a comic about the typical high school romance. But in their case, our spunky Danoh was a supporting extra with a heart disease and Haru was a faceless extra." Joshua stops at his office door and gestures to the chairs across from him.
"Is there a reason why they're important?" Mingyu asks, clearly perplexed with the idea of side characters rebelling in their own way.
"Oh yes. I'll let Seungkwan tell you. He's like your mediator or something, I dunno. But he can help you find some answers at the very least."
You trail behind, your mouth moving faster than your brain as you pepper Joshua with questions. Wonwoo and Mingyu shake their heads but listen just as intently to Joshua's ramblings. You know there's a whole world here, out there in the shadows, and now that you've tasted self-awareness you're hungry for every detail you can find.
"In here," Joshua calls over his shoulder. "Everyone. These are our newest clients."
"New clients?!" A male's voice practically squeals, followed by a swift punch to the arm.
"More self-aware folk who don't know enough?" A second male's voice pipes up, amusement glinting in his eyes as a slow smile pulls across his lips. "Well, we can fix that. Hi, everyone! Welcome to Human Rewrite Agency, located conveniently in the shadows, where we'll do anything within our power to help."
"It's great to be here," you nod, stepping forward. "I'm Y/N." You tilt your head to your two conspirators, a shy smile on Mingyu's lips. "This is my best friend, Mingyu. And that brooding, tired-looking beanpole, is Jeon Wonwoo."
"Flattering," Wonwoo smirks, shaking his head as he pushes his glasses up his nose.
"I'm Boo Seungkwan," the bright male who's eyes sparkled from the moment you stepped through the doors bounces over and pulls you and Mingyu into a tight embrace before doing the same to Wonwoo. "This is Vernon. A few of the others are working with clients so you can't meet them right now, but it'll probably be a long time before anyone else does, especially if your situation is even half as strange as a love pentagram." Seungkwan rolls his eyes.
"Love pentagram?" Wonwoo murmurs.
"Another comic where the female lead falls for four men and she can't chooses between them," Vernon shakes his head. "All the four men ended up self-aware because her dilemma and they have yet to figure out how to resolve their issue."
"Wow," you shake your head. "Who has the time and energy to think of this mess of a love story."
"The Writer of that comic does, and they're enjoying the pain," Seungkwan chirps. "Our agency does what we can to resolve their issues without erasing their awareness, so they can live their lives as they truly want to."
"How do you guys fix the issue?" Mingyu wonders aloud.
"Depends," Seungkwan tilts his head in thought. "Sometimes their comic becomes too unstable and they have to go through a series of major rewrites for them to fall into the correct timelines or character placements, etc. I assume Joshua has mentioned Danoh and Haru?" He catches your nod. "There were lots of up and downs with those two and their comic. Secrets came to an end and even though Danoh and Haru weren't end-game there, they became extras in a new comic and have the agency to choose each other, finally."
"So you're saying..."Mingyu begins as his brow furrows in thought. "We're fucked no matter what we do? No matter how hard we try to change the narrative, the Writer can always rewrite whatever happens? If we create a glitch, the Writer will just delete it? There's no winning in that."
Seungkwan grins and nods at the question. "Correct, for the most part," He agrees, not willing to dismiss any fears the three of you are harboring. "Which is why, a lot of these couples learn to focus on their lives in the shadow while still fighting to get to a happy ending. Because happy endings are for every character, even a background one."
Mingyu reaches for your hand, squeezing it in his palm. "So what should we focus on?"
"Do your part. Flirt in scenes, take the kisses when scripted and try not to gag...too much." Seungkwan laughs brightly, noticing the distasteful expressions on the three's faces at the thought. "Just because it's written one way doesn't mean you're doomed. Hell, our main clients in the Love Pentagon have to act out this drama where they basically hate the shit out of each other but in the shadows, they're all friends and bond over their scenes at their local bar." He laughs, his face glowing at the fond memory. "All because they're learning to balance both. The shadow and the world beyond." Seungkwan comes forward and places a reassuring hand on both Mingyu's shoulder and your hand.
"Don't forget, you can always visit. We're open seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. I encourage the glitching and breaking the fourth wall, but do keep in mind, a sudden plot twist will never sit well in the comic so sometimes the Writer's hand will get involved. But don't give up." He squeezes again, pulling his hand away. "At the end of the day, the three of you are still you. Self-aware doesn't change that and the Writer can't remove that fact either. They might be able to rip the self-awareness right from under your noses, but what they can't do is control the you you've created for yourself in the shadows."
Your entire being hums from his words, Seungkwan's melodic voice full of genuine kindness. You let Seungkwan's gentle reassurances sweep the worry from your brow, even as your mind continues to swirl. You've found an ally, one with endless optimism. You let out a sigh and your gaze settles on the grin dancing at the corners of Mingyu's mouth, the hope you always feel blooming whenever you're close, blossoming behind your ribs. "Shall we?"
Mingyu squeezes your hand once more. "You bet."
Another day, another scene. This time you're staring at an unrealistically happy Wonwoo as he looks down at Ara, his fingers brushing a lock of her hair from her eyes. Mingyu stands beside you, a look of disgust on his face as he tries not to vomit from Wonwoo's forced expressions.
"Is this how you feel when you look at me and Ara during our scenes together?" Mingyu asks out of the blue and you laugh.
"Now you know my pain," you pat his cheek with your palm. "Tough to watch?"
"Painful," he admits. "Happy Wonwoo is hard to watch. I'm so used to him being broody and aloof, it's just strange seeing him like this."
"And that's coming from a nerd who's forced to flex his muscles every day," you chuckle. "He's all brawn and brains and still scared of horror movies."
"To be fair," Mingyu pouts slightly. "Horror movies are terrifying."
"I love you Gyu, but you're just a big baby."
"Your big baby," he counters, pout growing. "Right?"
"C'mere, baby," you laugh, cupping his chin as you stand on the tips of your toes and plant a firm kiss on his cheek. Mingyu flushes a shade of pink that spreads up his neck and blooms across his ears as a stupid grin flashes across his face.
"Eww, gross." The sudden exclamation catches your attention, spinning you around. Wonwoo stands a few feet away, shaking his head in mild disgust and faked annoyance. "Ugh. Get a room."
"Done with your scene? Ready to go back and brood like your normal self?" You smirk.
Wonwoo glowers. "Shut up." He tucks his hands into his pockets as he falls into step beside the two of you. "I am the model of happiness."
"What a lie," you laugh. "Wonwoo, no. Your true self is brooding. Being happy is not your forte. But it's okay. We still like you."
"That's kind of cruel but not untrue," Mingyu adds. Wonwoo heaves an exasperated sigh but says nothing.
The three of you stroll off the campus grounds, heading downtown toward Mingyu's favorite bakery. When your thighs begin to ache, Mingyu gallantly offers you a piggyback ride. "Took you long enough," you mumble, but a grin breaks free the minute your arms are looped around Mingyu's neck and his arms are linked under your knees, his palms curled snugly around the curve of your thighs. You're cackling the entire way.
When you arrive at Mingyu's favorite bakery, Wonwoo slows to a stop. "Sorry to skip out," he sighs. "I'm tired and I need to wash whatever happened in my scene today off of me. But text me the plan, alright?" He leans in and steals a pastry from the box Mingyu just purchased, much to the latter's protest.
"Dude, that was my favorite," Mingyu frowns, watching him run off with the pastry clenched tightly in his fist, looking smug as he turns the corner.
"So dramatic," You shake your head and steal the next pastry from the box before darting away, laughter erupting from behind you.
"Why do I even bother?" Mingyu rolls his eyes in jest, racing after you, easily catching up. "You really gonna make me run when I'm holding a box of goodies?"
"You'd anything for me, dummy," you tease with an arched brow.
"Can't say no to that," Mingyu laughs brightly, letting his fingers intertwine with yours, a feeling that makes your entire body glow.
He'd walk through fire for you. And, you suppose, you'd walk through fire for him too. Even if it was scripted and the flame was all special effects. Still, you'd do it. The whole thing could crash and burn, literally, but it'd be worth it. He's always worth it.
You two collapse onto a picnic table, watching a gaggle of young children chase each other, swinging wildly at their pinwheels. Their joy echoes across the grass and you feel your body relax as you and Mingyu devour another pastry in seconds.
"These are the moments I really want," he finally admits after an extended moment of silence. "To sit with you, be in the moment and have the ability to laugh at stupid shit like those kids or something serious. It's just peaceful."
"Agreed," you tilt your head with a smile, content and free as a stray curl whips across your eye and Mingyu leans across the picnic table to brush it aside. "We deserve better than what the Writer has in store for us," you muse. "Not sure what that better is, but we deserve better."
"This," he breathes suddenly, looking nervous despite the calm, easy atmosphere of the park. "Us. Together." He gestures, an awkward fumbling of long arms and large hands that makes you want to cry-laugh, the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betraying the shy tone his voice has.
"Mingyu." He smiles at you softly as you lean across the table and press a soft kiss to the very corner of his mouth. He sighs in content, pulling you against him so you were sprawled across his lap as he buries his nose into your hair. "I really do love you. You know that right? Nothing the Writer creates is going to stop me from loving you."
"Oh god," Mingyu pretends to gag playfully. "Such a fucking sap. I've rubbed off on you."
You reach up and pinch his jawline before swiping his nose with your palm. "Silly, dorky himbo of mine." He groans but doesn't deny the affection, a shy smile hiding behind his lashes.
"Can't deny the truth."
"Knew you loved it."
"Love you more." Mingyu bumps your noses together as he presses his lips to yours, sighing the minute your lips slot into his perfectly as he tightens his grip around you. The pair of you sigh blissfully into the kiss and you grin, unable to help yourself as you bring the back of your hand to your forehead.
"God," you say, rolling your eyes. "Could this sunset and the taste of the chocolate filling of Mingyu's favorite bread be any better?"
"Shhh," he chuckles softly against your lips. "Stop ruining the moment, Y/N."
"One, never. Two, never," you insist, smiling at the ridiculous look on his face as you press one final kiss to his pouting lips. "Y'know, I like that smile of yours best."
"The one I reserve for you alone," he whispers, eyes shut. You can feel the light breeze tossing Mingyu's hair about as you bask in the peace he brought you, the feel of his strong body pressing against yours, holding you impossibly closer, keeping the nightmares and chaos of the comics at bay. For now.
That night, you have a dream. A weird dream. In that dream, you’re with Mingyu. That part isn't unusual. But it feels different, familiar, somehow. Almost like a past life where you and Mingyu were free. Truly free. But when you wake up, your memory of the dream fades fast, the dream dissolving like a mirage in the desert. You fall back asleep, remembering only the comfort of your dreams, and Mingyu's strong arms.
The next morning, you make your way to HR, knocking before sliding your head in to find Seungkwan there, smiling up at you and gesturing for you to come inside and have a seat in his office.
"Hey Seungkwan. Good to see you again, thanks for giving me your time." You begin, having wanted to ask him a few questions. "I've been having some weird dreams recently, a past life it felt like. I couldn't really remember them all when I'd wake up but..." You trail, hoping you were making sense to Seungkwan.
"Glad you're here," He gestures to the empty seat directly across his desk, inviting you to make yourself comfortable while you have a little chat. Seungkwan slides a few files your way before folding his hands on his desk. "I actually managed to procure these after our last chat. it seems like you were the main character in the writer's last piece. If this helps jog your memories, that'd be a real win-win."
You let the pages slip beneath your fingertips, curiosity boiling behind your lashes as the scenes came back to you, the very dreams you were having all were on this very sheet of paper. It makes you want to laugh as you look at the very scene of Mingyu walking toward the girl who was the perfect mirror of you.
You flip through the pages and notice you were in a bookstore and had even dreamed a few nights prior about it. All of this is true, these aren't scripts...they’re the past. "You found all of this after my last visit?" You ask in awe.
"Yes!" he says proudly, unable to hide the glint in his eyes. "There were a few snags here and there. From what I researched, you and Mingyu's story wasn't supposed to end in such a tragic way."
Your smile falls from your face as you realize his words aren't ones of encouragement, but almost pity. "Tragic ending? What do you mean?"
"Well," Seungkwan sinks a little further into the leather of his chair and rubs the back of his neck, eyes focusing intently on his notes as if he wishes that he hadn't uttered the last few words. "It's sad. You were arranged to marry, he was drafted for the war. He never returned."
"Oh," you manage as the words hit you, and your head is screaming, begging for something. "So why was it put on hold?" You ask the only logical question left.
"The Writer abandoned it." He slides you a copy of the draft you were just looking at. "It wasn't getting the traction because of the heavy story, apparently," Seungkwan winces at the idea that he may have said too much, but you just nod at him. "The Writer decided that the current comic that you're in is getting more readership."
"Great, so glad to hear she gave up and moved to a new storyline instead." You seethe, not realizing how harsh the words were as you grit your teeth. "But why was Ara chosen as the main character instead of me?"
"She's naive, innocent," he offers, sliding a piece of gum into his mouth. "Pretty." Seungkwan wrinkles his nose as if it was unavoidable, a sad fact. "What?"
"And I'm not? That doesn't seem fair," you groan, arms crossing over your chest as a pout works it's way over your lip. "That is a real blow." You huff out a sarcastic laugh.
"You're the bombshell that's relagated to the background. Not that you're a background character by any means. You're the villainess."
"Don't say it," you roll your eyes. You know it. Everyone knows it. That you were the supposed villainess. But the fact that someone, especially Seungkwan, has admitted it out loud? Well, you don't want to admit the truth, but it stings like a motherfucker.
"You're self-aware," he states quietly. "Can we focus on that?"
"Fine," you grumble, before forcing yourself to calm down. It's not Seungkwan's fault. "But why Mingyu? The Writer could have written another male character that isn't Kim Mingyu."
"Maybe the Writer felt bad for him in the last draft, and thought she'd give him a chance as the main character of a new romance series."
"By turning him into the ultimate, white knuckled himbo who flexes his abs whenever?" You groan, "The poor boy."
"He may be the male lead of the comic and geared for Ara," He leans forward. "But he will always choose you and you him. It's fate, even for characters written into existence." Seungkwan chuckles before standing and dusting his suit pants off. "Alright, thank you again for chatting with me. That is all I wanted to talk about. Stay self-aware and keep your focus on the real goal, Y/N."
"And what's that?"
Seungkwan flashes you a bright smile as he ushers you from his office, "Getting out of this shit comic, duh!"
From your corner of the dancefloor, you watch Mingyu lean in closely to whisper something into Ara's ear. Whatever he is saying makes her erupt into giggles as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ears. As the music plays and they spin together, your heart breaks into pieces.
You really want to smack the Writer for making you see this.
Wonwoo sidles up to you, shaking his head at the sight before him as the pair looks ridiculous as they stand on the dance floor and the scripted splash panel. "You can vomit in my shoes later if you need," Wonwoo offers, trying his best not to make this anymore miserable for you. "Want a drink?"
"Fuck yes," you snap, looking for a moment before shaking your head. "I've got this, stay. Enjoy the dance, look pretty for the crowd and try not to burst into flames from boredom."
"What am I, an ornament? Because I've gotta say, this bowtie is uncomfortable." Wonwoo wrinkles his nose at the feeling of the tie wrapped around his neck as you chuckle and take your leave, heading for the bar.
"A shot. Top shelf, please." You watch as the bartender grabs a bottle and lines the small glasses up in front of you, grabbing a pack of salt as he sets up. After the glasses were filled, you look up to find Mingyu looking directly at you as you lick a long strip across your wrist before downing the glass of tequila. The way he bites his lip is undeniably hot, and the slight daze in his eye is doing wonders.
Worth it.
"You're good," Seokmin, the bartender, comments as you blink your way back, slamming the tiny glass back on the bar counter. "Lookin' to impress anyone?"
"Someone, but he's too preoccupied at the moment," you sigh, gesturing to the man and woman currently on the dance floor as they sway back and forth.
"Ah," Seokmin purses his lips sympathetically. "Want another one?"
"Keep them coming." The next shot goes down easy, just like the other glasses you had poured down your throat in the hopes you could avoid Mingyu for the rest of the night.
Mingyu could've easily left her side and spent the remainder of the evening with you. You sigh wistfully, you had dreamed that this party would end differently. And not with him twirling another woman around the ballroom like this was some sort of poorly-written romance flick.
As the night drags on, the tequila keeps pouring down your throat until you can barely tell which Mingyu is the real Mingyu. Or is Ara real? You can't seem to care because when she disappears and the lights dim, he's suddenly right in front of you. "I think that's enough drinking for tonight, Y/N. Please?"
You look up at him drunkenly, anger brewing deep within you as you bite your lip, tears blurring your vision before you wipe angrily, angry, not that he would understand because, at the end of the day, it was Mingyu. Your Mingyu. "I hate this, Mingyu."
"Me, too."
"It feels like my insides have been crushed. It hurts to see you with her, and know that the entire evening the Writer kept pushing you two together, again, and again, and again." Your voice cracks and Mingyu reaches out to gently catch one of the tears that spilled down your cheek.
"C'mon." His hand is warm against yours. The two of you shuffle back to his apartment. "It's late," he mumbles as he shuts the door and throws his car keys into the tray on the counter, bending over to shrug his dress shoes off, and you stumble backwards until you feel your knees bump against the sofa and you let yourself fall against the soft cushions. "Are you just going to sleep with your dress on?" Mingyu asks, and you scoff.
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"Oh, right. Forgot who I'm talking to." He laughs and it sounds bitter and broken. He rubs a hand down the side of his face, shaking his head. "Anyway, you want to get out of those clothes? Here. Let me help you. Don't want you falling and hurting yourself."
"I'm not five, Mingyu."
"No," Mingyu pauses, gaze boring into yours, "But you sure can act like it."
"So, I can be a brat and you can treat me like you’re my Daddy, yeah?" You don't mean to laugh, but you are. You are fucking delirious, and so, so inebriated. But you're drunk and can't hold back the words tumbling out your mouth. "I'm such a fucking mess," you moan, hands flying to cover your face. "Just…just leave me here."
"Let's get you sober and then we can talk about that kinky side of yours." Mingyu holds out his hand, but the angle of the overhead light creates a glare. He's haloed in white light, like an angel or a figment of your imagination, you aren't quite sure. He taps your nose lightly, smile pulling at his lips, the slightest bit smug. "Take my hand and let's get you some fresh air. You smell like tequila."
"Mhm," You reach forward and slap your hand against his palm, sighing as Mingyu pulls you towards him and loops a supportive arm around your waist. "You like it, don't lie," you mumble. He rolls his eyes at that as your head dips back onto his shoulder and your feet stumble slightly before you are righted.
"Whatever you say, you drunk," he murmurs as he leads you to the balcony and dumps you on a lounge chair, reaching a hand out to press against your back. "Stay. I'll get you something to sober up before we get you showered and ready for bed. Okay?"
"Okay." Your voice comes out muffled since you bury your face in the pillow. "Mingyu?" you ask as a cool breeze chills your face.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for looking out for me."
"I'd do anything for you."
After a while of comfortable silence, and a cup of hot coffee in your hands, you both were looking out towards the street and were enjoying each others silent company. "You know we used to be in another series together?" you speak as you look over.
"Really?" he asks.
"Yea," you say wistfully.
"What was it about?" he inquires further.
"Not sure. But you and I were..." your lips pull up into a sad smile and your eyes slide back to the city street, "We were in love. Well, at least the Y/N and Mingyu from that series were." You smile sadly. "How we danced around each other in secret meetings during the war, and had to act like we were not madly in love once daylight hit. Even though I knew we'd always be safe no matter what because we loved each other."
"What happened, then? With us?" he asks.
"I was arranged to get married...to someone that's not you," you admit and it hurt like a stab to the gut. "And you were drafted, and I never saw you again." You turn back towards the view. "Can you imagine? How you loved someone with all your heart, but the narrative made sure you never had your happy ever after. No matter how badly you wanted it? The Writer just abandoned that series, never brought that story to an ending because it was so heavy and tragic. Wrote our lives off, just to throw us into something less heavy."
"Hey, come here." Mingyu sits up, pulling you into his arms. "We can't dwell on things in our past, even though the story may have hurt us, this time, things will be different."
"Will they, though?" you question with a sad shrug of the shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist. Mingyu tilts your head towards his. "I'm not the main character this time. Just the villainess in this particular comic, forced to watch someone else get the happy ending. The happy ending the Writer robbed you and I out of."
"Shh," he hushes as he kisses your forehead.
"Promise you'll stay true and never abandon me? No matter what?" your voice wavers a bit as the threat of a sob remains close. Mingyu's big and warm hands gently tilt your head back to look up at him. He's got the most gorgeous face you've ever seen, with eyes so deep they put the night sky to shame and hair that gleams bronze in the sunlight.
"I'd do anything to keep you close," Mingyu says. "I promise."
"Pinky swear?" you sniff.
"Pinky swear." He links his pinky finger with yours. You breathe a small laugh. Mingyu had a smile to rival the sun, you always thought. All teeth, a bit lopsided and big and warm. Even in your current state of distress.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" your gaze darts down to where the two of you are connected by a finger.
"More often than necessary."
"I really, really love you, Kim Mingyu," you smile up at him.
"Love you, too." He presses his forehead against yours.
"Like, super duper, you don't even have a clue," you mumble into his chest. He only snorts.
"Sure I don't, dummy." He pats your head.
"Then maybe I should show you?" The words sound suggestive to Mingyu as you wrap your arms around his torso tightly, your hot breath tickling his ear.
"Y/N, come on," Mingyu says, wriggling away, cheeks going crimson.
You squint up at him, mischief in the creases in the corners of your eyes. "Why not?" you pout.
"Well, because," Mingyu ruffles the back of his hair. "You're drunk."
"I'm so damn sober right now that I could paint you a picture of the ocean."
"No, no, no." Mingyu pushes the hair out of his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Maybe I should prove to you I am a very willing participant?" you begin to say as he closes his eyes for a split second. Before he can do or say anything to prevent it, your hands have snaked themselves behind his neck. The scent of cologne and detergent fill your nose as he stiffens slightly and groans against your skin.
"You drive a hard bargain," Mingyu finally murmurs. "But first, you need a shower."
"Join me?" you suggest and you grin up at him with a mischievous waggle of the eyebrows. "There's plenty of room for two." You see the way Mingyu bites his lip, then sighs.
"Fine. Lead the way," he says, and when you squeak happily and pull him towards the bathroom.
Moments later, the bathroom is thick with steam, blurring the clean lines of the tiled walls until the world outside feels entirely locked away. The water drums a steady, heavy rhythm against the porcelain, a barrier of noise that no scripted dialogue or intrusive narration box could pierce.
"You're still clumsy," Mingyu murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, rid of the booming, confident cadence the Writer always forced into his throat on-page. Here, he sounds rough around the edges, grounded, and entirely yours.
"I am perfectly balanced," you retorted, though your hands gripped his shoulders for support as you stepped under the spray. The heavy silk of your party dress clings to your skin, soaked through in an instant, but neither of you care about the clothes.
Mingyu reaches behind you, his large palms warm against the small of your back as his fingers find the zipper. With a slow, deliberate slide, the wet fabric parts. He peels the dress away, letting it pool heavily at your feet. When his gaze meets yours, there’s none of the scripted, aggressive arrogance he was forced to display at the gym. His eyes are dark, intense, and filled with a fierce, protective reverence.
"You look beautiful, Y/N," he whispers, his thumbs tracing the line of your hip bones, wiping away the lingering traces of the comic’s forced aesthetic. "The real you. Not the villainess."
"Then stop looking and do something about it," you challenge, leaning up until your lips are inches from his.
Mingyu doesn't hesitate. He pulls you flush against his chest, the spray of the shower slicking his hair back, exposing the sharp, handsome angles of his face. His mouth comes down on yours with a desperate, hungry heat, a stark contrast to the polite, hesitant kisses the script dictated for him and Ara. This is raw, heavy with years of unspoken longing and the terrifying knowledge that your time in the dark is always limited.
His hands slide down to lift you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. You gasp into the kiss as he presses you back against the warm tiled wall, the friction of his skin against yours sending a sharp jolt through your chest.
"I'm not letting them take this," Mingyu groans against your neck, his lips tracing a burning path down to your collarbone, his teeth grazing the skin just hard enough to leave a mark, claiming every bit of you that he could.
You grab at the nape of his neck, fisting your fingers in his wet, raven black hair. "Shut up and fuck me, Mingyu."
The slick tile of the shower wall is hot against your back, but it’s nothing compared to the blistering heat of Mingyu's skin. He holds you pinned, one massive hand anchoring your hip while the other cups the back of your head, his fingers tangled deeply in your wet hair.
Every kiss is a bruising, desperate reclamation. On the page, the Writer made him tentative, full of scripted hesitations and soft, clean glances meant for Ara. But here, in the heavy steam of the shadows, Mingyu is ravenous. He drinks the small, broken sounds from your throat, his tongue tangling with yours in a rhythm that’s entirely unscripted, chaotic, and real.
"Y/N," he growls against your lips, his chest heaving against your breasts. The water cascades over his broad shoulders, slicking down the heavy planes of his muscles. "Tell me you're here. Tell me it's you."
"It's me," you gasp, arching into his touch as his hand slides down the curve of your thigh, lifting your leg to hook over his hip. "It's always been me, Gyu."
He groans, a low, guttural sound that vibrates against your collarbone as he buries his face in your neck. His teeth graze the sensitive skin right above your shoulder blade, biting just hard enough to anchor you to the reality of the moment. You cry out, your fingers digging into the thick muscles of his back, your nails leaving pale tracks in their wake.
When he shifts, guiding your hips back against the wall, the friction is unbearable. He pauses for a single, agonizing heartbeat, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes completely dark, pupils blown wide with a fierce, protective hunger.
"Look at me," he whispers, his voice rough and laced with a desperate edge. "Don't close your eyes. I want you to see me when I..."
He doesn't finish the sentence. He drives into you in one smooth, heavy push.
A sharp, breathless sob escapes your lips, your hands flying to clutch at his wet shoulders as the sheer intensity of the fullness ripples through you. Mingyu lets out a ragged breath, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that feels like a physical weight. He begins to move, slow and agonizingly deep at first, before the rhythm catches fire.
The sound of the rushing water drowns out the rest of the world, creating a sanctuary where no narration boxes could grow. Every thrust is a declaration of war against the script. You grip his shoulders, throwing your head back as he hits the exact spot that makes your mind fracture into pure, unadulterated sensation.
"Mingyu. Gyu—" you whimper, your internal walls tightening around him as the friction builds an unbearable, sweet agony behind your ribs.
"I've got you," he pants, his pace turning fast and punishing, his muscles bunching under your hands as he lifts you completely off the floor. Your other leg wraps around his waist, locking him close. "I'm right here."
"Mingyu," you begged against the corner of his jaw. "Gyu. Yes, yes, yes, please, don't stop."
"I wouldn't dream of it." He groans the words into the tender flesh below your ear as his lips and teeth trace a burning line from your jaw down the side of your throat. The water blurs between you, but he refuses to shut his eyes or drop his gaze. Every breath is shared, every inch of contact heated.
And every thrust is a silent cry. Fuck the script. Fuck Ara. Fuck everything but us.
The Writer's commands can't reach the shadows. Mingyu doesn't give her a chance to command him here, where the camera could only capture their silhouettes and the reader can't see beyond the steamy haze.
"Mingyu. Mingyu. Please, I need..." You shudder, a violent, blinding release cascading through your lower abdomen as you clamp down around him. The sight of your undone expression throws Mingyu over the precipice. With a low, ragged shout, he buries himself deep inside you one last time, his body stiffening as he spends himself completely, his pulse throbbing forcefully against your own.
For a long time, the only sound is the heavy thrumming of the water and your synchronized, ragged breathing. Mingyu holds you tight, his arms wrapped around you like a vice, refusing to let your feet touch the cold ground just yet. He kisses you again—long, tender, slow—as he turns the knob of the shower off. With your legs still wrapped around his hips and his arms still supporting your full weight, he carries you both towards the bed.
"We're still wet," you murmur, lips moving against his collarbone.
"Does it matter?" he grunts. Mingyu settles atop of the pillows, the mattress squeaking beneath him as he pulls you to sit astride his lap. His damp hair falls over his forehead in wild, messy tendrils, but he doesn't seem to mind. "You're just gonna get wet again, anyways."
"Is that so?" You rest your forehead against his, brushing the fallen strands away. Mingyu nods, hands gripping your thighs tight as his thumbs brush in circles on the exposed flesh of your skin.
"Definitely."
The peace shatters at exactly 7:15 a.m.
One moment, you’re tangled in Mingyu's sheets, the faint scent of his laundry detergent and the lingering warmth of his body enveloping you in perfect, drowsy comfort. Your hand is resting flat against his bare, broad chest, feeling the steady, calming beat of his heart.
The next moment, a violent, neon-pink static snaps through your brain.
Your eyes fly open. The cozy, dimly lit bedroom is gone. The soft cotton sheets beneath you instantly morph into the stiff, scratchy fabric of a public bench. The smell of detergent is replaced by the overwhelming scent of chlorine and expensive perfume.
"No," you whisper, your throat tight. "No, please, not yet."
You look down. You’re no longer wearing Mingyu's oversized t-shirt. Instead, you’re clad in a stunning, albeit incredibly impractical, designer tweed skirt suit with pristine white heels.
Directly across from you stands Ara, holding a tray of iced coffees, looking utterly defenseless and doe-eyed. And standing right next to her, looking polished, perfectly coiffed, and completely devoid of his glasses, is Mingyu. He’s wearing his varsity jacket, his posture rigid and towering.
The transition is so violent it makes you nauseous. The physical memory of his touch is still burning on your skin, but your body is already moving against your will. Your spine straightens into a haughty, elegant posture. Your lips curl into a sharp, poisonous smirk.
Above your heads, a massive, glittery pink narration box materializes with a smug hum.
NARRATION: The next morning at the campus cafe, the villainess lays her trap, determined to humiliate Ara in front of the boy she desperately covets...
You try to swallow, but your vocal cords tighten as the Writer takes the reins, violently forcing the script into your mouth.
"Oh, Ara," your voice chimes out, dripping with sickly-sweet venom. "Did you personally brew those coffees, or did you just pick them up from the trash? Because honestly, the aroma matches your outfit today."
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, your mind screams at Ara, but your face remains a mask of flawless, cruel arrogance.
Ara flinches, her eyes immediately welling with tears as she looks up at Mingyu. "I... I just wanted to bring everyone drinks..."
Mingyu's jaw clenches. You see the brief, agonizing flicker of horror in his eyes, the real Mingyu trying to scream through the cracks of his character's programming. He knows exactly what you had just shared hours prior. He doesn't want to do this.
But the Writer's grip is ruthless.
Mingyu steps forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over you. He grabs the iced coffee from Ara's tray and, with a harsh, aggressive movement, slams it down on the table right in front of you, splashing a few drops onto your pristine tweed jacket.
"Keep your mouth shut, Y/N," Mingyu spits, his voice booming with a cold, scripted hatred that makes your stomach violently churn. "Ara has a heart of gold, which is something you wouldn't understand if it bought your family's entire political empire. Stay away from her. You disgust me."
The words feel like a physical blow to your chest. You disgust me. Even knowing it’s the script, the sheer force of his dictated anger cuts through you like a knife.
Your character merely laughs, a sharp, tinkling, villainous sound. "We'll see about that, Mingyu," your mouth drawls, tilting your head up to flash him a mocking wink.
PANEL 1 — CLOSE UP ON MINGYU'S FURIOUS EXPRESSION AS HE TURNS HIS BACK ON THE VILLAINESS, GUIDING A WEEPING ARA AWAY INTO THE SUNLIGHT.
The moment the imaginary camera shifts focus to follow them walking away, the invisible strings snap.
Your smirk collapses. You slump against the cafe bench, trembling violently as you clutch your stomach, dry-heaving from the sheer emotional whiplash. Across the courtyard, you can see Mingyu walking with Ara, his shoulders tightly hunched in that familiar, real-world telltale sign of pure, unadulterated distress.
He can’t look back at you. If he did, the Writer would freeze the panel.
You dig your nails into the wooden bench, staring at the pink narration box as it slowly dissolves into air. The battle for your freedom isn't just a union meeting anymore—it’s survival.
NARRATION: With the dramatic exit of the campus golden boy, the villainess is left alone to stew in her own bitter defeat, unaware that her cruel games are pushing her further into isolation...
"Oh, eat glass," you hiss under your breath, waiting exactly three seconds until the glowing text fully dissolves into the morning air.
The moment the script completely lets go of your muscles, you practically collapse onto the iron table. Your hands are shaking so hard, you almost knock over the remaining iced coffee. The emotional whiplash is a physical ache in your chest. Just hours ago, his hands were warm against your waist under the heavy steam of the shower, pulling you close, whispering that he would never let them take you away. Now, the phantom sting of his scripted words—You disgust me—echoes in your ears like a slap.
You need a drink, a sanctuary, or a very large blunt object to swing at the sky. Lacking all three, you grab your designer bag, haul your aching body out of the cafe courtyard, and head straight for the one place on campus where the shadows were thickest: the back rows of the university library.
"You look like shit." Wonwoo doesn't even look up from his massive, leather-bound textbook as you slide into the beanbag chair next to him, burying your face in your hands.
"Don't start, Wonwoo," you groan, your voice muffled. "I just got violently ripped out of Mingyu's bed at seven in the morning to be dropped into a 'cafeteria confrontation' scene. I told Ara her coffee smelled like garbage and Mingyu told me I was disgusting. My soul has officially left my body."
Wonwoo leans his cheek on his hand, flipping the page. "I know you have feelings for the musclehead, but can you get over yourself for three seconds?"
"Wow. Excuse me for having emotions," you grumble into your hands, flopping backwards into the plush beanbag chair with an undignified huff. "Remind me why I put up with you again?"
"My pretty face," Wonwoo recites by rote, the edges of his lips curling into a trademark smirk that made the characters around you swoon. "It's all the rage."
"Go back to brooding," you grumble, leaning forward again to scan the titles of his mountain of library books.
The library is an oasis of darkness: a cramped, shabby space nestled deep between the science shelves in the most remote corner of campus. Only a couple flickering lamps provide light, barely cutting through the densely packed bookshelves to reach the faded carpet. It’s impossible to spot the back rows from anywhere else in the library, which is exactly how you two like it. The deeper you sink into the stacks, the longer your ability to stay outside of the script lasts, giving you an easy break from being written into the same overused confrontations week after week.
This far from the spotlight of the heroine and the main characters, the university is nothing but a cheap backdrop and a cheap trope. No flashy love triangles or manufactured plot twists can find you here, no matter how brightly the script shines. Just stacks upon stacks of books, no endings necessary. It’s exactly what you need right now.
Wonwoo stares pointedly at your rumpled jacket and messy hair, his fingers absently playing with a ballpoint pen. "So are you going to sit there moping, or are you going to finally address the massive, tooth-rotting sexual tension hanging between us right now?"
You smack his arm hard. "Gross, dude. Not with Mingyu on the brain."
Wonwoo ignores the bruise already blooming on his bicep, cocking an eyebrow. "Are you done lamenting your tragic inability to seduce our token jock? You're crushing my study vibe with that kind of energy."
"Fu–"
"Don't curse in my sacred reading corner."
You close your mouth mid-curse, narrowing your eyes. "Fine, Shakespeare," you say, crossing your arms. "Remind me, why am I even talking to you about this?"
"Because you think I can actually fix it." His eyes flick up towards the dusty fluorescent lights, watching the grime-coated glass buzz with low electricity. After several seconds, his dark gaze shifts towards your face.
"Look," Wonwoo sighs, resting his elbows on top of his piles of reference books. "If there's anyone who understands this shitty situation, it's me. I know you two are dying to break free and bang each other against the nearest wall, but the Writer doesn't care. To her, our misery is hilarious, and she doesn't care what she has to tear apart or write-off to keep making us dance to her tune."
You stare at Wonwoo, his words cutting through the leftover haze of the morning's whiplash. The harsh reality of what Seungkwan had shown you at the Human Rewrite Agency flashes in your mind—the tragic, abandoned draft where you and Mingyu were torn apart by war. The Writer didn't care about your heartbreak then, and she certainly doesn't care now.
"She already tore us apart once," you whisper, the anger in your voice giving way to a hollow, echoing fear. "Seungkwan showed me an old draft. In another story, Mingyu and I were in love, and she just... left us to rot in a tragic ending because it wasn't pulling in enough views."
Wonwoo stops twirling his pen. His boredom completely evaporates, replaced by a sharp, calculating focus. "Wait, seriously?"
"I read all of it." You fidget with your pearl ring, "We never even got a happy ending. And now I'm watching him be the main character again with someone that's not me and get his happy ending. What about me? What about my happy ending?"
He reaches out and squeezes your arm gently. "You will," he promises, and there's something softer and kinder than the Writer's edge in his words.
"I'm not so sure," you whisper. You have to keep swallowing the bitter lump that seems to have taken residence in your throat.
The heavy scent of old paper and dust does little to soothe the burning in your throat. Wonwoo’s hand is still a reassuring weight on your forearm, his usually detached eyes sharp with a quiet, protective anger.
Before he can offer another word of cynical comfort, the heavy wooden doors of the library’s back wing creak open.
Footsteps shatter the silence, heavy, hurried, and completely lacking the synchronized, rhythmic grace the Writer usually forced onto the male lead. A tall figure rounds the corner of the chemistry stacks, nearly tripping over a low-profile stool.
It’s Mingyu.
He has frantically shoved his thick, black-rimmed reading glasses back onto his face, though he’s still wearing the stupidly pristine varsity jacket from the cafe scene. His hair is a wild, unstyled nest from where he had clearly been ripping his hands through it in frustration. The moment his eyes lock onto you huddled in the beanbag chair, the rigid, arrogant mask of his character crumbles entirely.
"Y/N," he pants, stumbling into the narrow aisle. He drops to his knees right in front of your beanbag, not caring about the dust coating his expensive scripted jeans. "Y/N, I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." His large hands fly to cup your face, his palms warm and trembling violently against your cheeks. "I didn't mean it," he rushes out, his voice cracking, entirely stripped of the booming, confident cadence from the cafe. "The words…the Writer just slammed them into my throat. I tried to swallow them down, I swear to God I tried to choke on them, but the static was too loud. When I said those things to you... when I looked at you like that..." Tears of genuine, unadulterated rage well in his eyes, threatening to spill over his lashes. "I wanted to tear my own tongue out."
Wonwoo slowly retracts his hand from your arm, leaning back into his own chair and crossing his arms. "Take a breath, muscle-head. You're going to trigger a 'jealous outburst' panel if you vibrate any harder."
Mingyu ignores him entirely, his thumbs gently wiping at the stray tear that has finally escaped your eye. "Please tell me you know it wasn't me, Y/N. After last night... after everything... I could never look at you and feel anything but..." He chokes on the word, his ears turning a bright, furious crimson, but he forces himself to look directly into your eyes. "I love you. The real you. I don't care what she writes on the page."
You look at his flushed face, the messy hair, the desperate, unscripted honesty bleeding through his every pore. The phantom sting of 'You disgust me' finally begins to dissolve, replaced by the grounding weight of the boy who belongs to you in the dark.
"I know, Gyu," you whisper, reaching up to wrap your smaller hands around his wrists. "I know it was the script. It just... it gets harder to separate the two when the Writer starts messing with our heads."
Mingyu leans forward, resting his forehead against yours, letting out a long, shuddering breath that fans across your lips. "We're going to break this comic," he swears fiercely against your skin. "I don't care if we have to glitch the entire university into a black screen. We are not letting her rewrite us."
Wonwoo lets out a sharp, rhythmic tapping sound as he collapses his heavy book shut. "If you two are done staging an unscripted melodrama in my designated hiding spot, we actually have a massive problem to deal with."
Mingyu doesn't pull away immediately, giving your hand one final, protective squeeze before shifting to sit cross-legged on the faded carpet. He pushes his glasses up his nose, his broad shoulders slouching into that familiar, un-jock-like posture that belonged strictly to the shadows. "What do you mean, Wonwoo? Besides the fact that the Writer almost turned my brain into mush this morning?"
"Think about it," Wonwoo says, leaning forward and resting his chin on his steepled fingers. "Y/N just found out from Seungkwan that the Writer has a history of abandoning entire universes when they don't get enough traction. She scraps characters. She leaves them to rot in tragic endings." His sharp eyes dart between the two of you. "Right now, the Writer is getting aggressive because we are making the plot unstable. If Mingyu keeps punching narration boxes and glitching out of scripted gym sessions, she’s not just going to keep pushing. She’s going to notice the narrative structure is broken. And what happens when a webtoon creator realizes their project is glitched beyond repair?"
The air in the narrow aisle suddenly feels incredibly cold.
"She deletes the file," you whisper, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your designer tweed skirt. "She scraps the comic and starts a new one."
"Exactly," Wonwoo points at you with his pen. "Except this time, we’re self-aware. If she hits delete, do we just wake up in a new story with our memories wiped, or do we fade into the white space permanently?"
Mingyu’s jaw sets, his gaze hardening as he looks up at the flickering fluorescent lights overhead. "So Seungkwan was right. We can't just blatantly refuse to play our roles. We have to walk the line. We act out the scenes, we take the stupid scripted dialogue, but we use the shadows to build something she can't touch." He reaches out, his massive palm covering yours entirely. "We play along just enough to keep the comic alive, while we figure out a way to break the fourth wall completely from the inside."
Before you can respond, a low, ominous vibration thrums through the soles of your feet. The library shelves seems to flicker, the titles on the spines blurring into illegible streaks of color for a fraction of a second.
A neon-pink glow begins to manifest near the ceiling of the aisle, pulsing like a dying star.
"Fuck," Wonwoo mutters, instantly scrambling to his feet and shoving his textbook into his bag. "Spoke too soon. Stage lights are coming up. Must be a heroine spotlight."
The pink glow intensifies, bathing the dusty library aisle in an artificial, sickly light that makes the air feel thick and pressurized. You, Mingyu, and Wonwoo scramble as the scene begins to materialize around you, the reality of the library walls warping like melting wax.
PANEL 1 — THE LIBRARY AISLE, SUDDENLY OVERFLOWING WITH SOFT, ROMANTIC FILTERING.
Lee Ara appears at the far end of the row, holding a stack of books and looking around with an expression of "lost and adorable" perfection. She catches sight of the three of you, her eyes widening in a scripted, dramatic reveal.
NARRATION: A quiet moment of study turns into a chance encounter, as Ara discovers the trio in their secret, brooding corner...
"Oh!" Ara exclaims, her voice unnaturally bright and rehearsed. "I didn't know you guys were all back here together!"
You feel the familiar, sickening lurch in your chest as the Writer takes hold of your internal monologue, turning your genuine affection for your friends into a sharp, jagged envy.
"Well, it's a library, Ara," you say, your voice dripping with an acid-tongued condescension that makes your skin crawl. "It’s supposed to be for studying, not for wandering around like a lost puppy looking for attention."
Ara’s lower lip trembles—the perfect, predictable response. Beside you, Mingyu stiffens, his fingers digging into his knees to keep from lunging toward her to apologize. His face, however, is forced into a mask of cold, dismissive indifference that mirrors your own.
"Y/N, leave her alone," Mingyu says, his voice flat and monotone, devoid of his usual warmth. "She’s just trying to find a quiet place to read."
"Oh, please," you roll your eyes, a gesture that feels heavy and robotic. "Don't tell me you're actually falling for the 'innocent, studious heroine' routine, Mingyu? We both know she couldn't tell the difference between a textbook and a magazine if her life depended on it."
Ara gasps, clutching the books to her chest as if you'd physically struck her. You want to scream, to reach out and tell her that you actually like her, that you’ve helped her study before, but your mouth is locked in its scripted cruelty.
"I... I really just wanted to return these," Ara whispers, her gaze darting to Mingyu for salvation.
NARRATION: The tension crackles as the hero steps forward to defend the maiden, his eyes burning with a sudden, intense fury.
Mingyu stands up, his movements stiff as he performs the role of the knight in shining armor. "I said, that's enough," he hisses, stepping directly into your personal space. "Go back to your little clique of sycophants and leave her out of your drama."
You meet his gaze, and for one desperate, fleeting second, the Writer's hold falters. In the depths of his eyes, you see the real Mingyu—the one who spent the night in your bed, the one who promised to protect you. He’s terrified for you, pleading with you to play along before the Writer notices the glitch and tries to delete you entirely.
You force a sharp, cold laugh, stepping back and brushing past him with deliberate, insulting intent. "You’re right, Mingyu," you snap, your voice echoing with a synthetic bitterness that makes your stomach churn. "I’m wasting my time here. It’s hard to have a conversation when the room is being occupied by, well, this." You gesture vaguely toward Ara with a hand that is shaking, though the narration box hovering above you works overtime to frame your tremor as a sign of haughty impatience.
PANEL 2 — MINGYU, ARA, AND YOU STARING EACH OTHER DOWN
Ara looks hurt, her lip wobbling just enough to satisfy the panel's requirements. Mingyu stands motionless, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists at his sides. The narration box pulses a violent shade of fuchsia, hungry for the conflict to escalate.
NARRATION: The villainess turns on her heel, her heart cold and empty, unaware that her cruel words have finally pushed the golden boy past his breaking point.
"Don't you dare walk away," Mingyu barks. He grabs your arm, his fingers dig into your skin, hard. "You think you’re so much better than everyone, don't you? Always plotting, always hiding."
You spin back around, your face arranging itself into a sneer that you despise, but your eyes meet his, and you transmit every ounce of your reality into that look. Play the game, you idiot. Just play the game.
"And what if I am?" you hiss, pulling your arm away with a sharp, calculated motion. "At least I know what I am, Mingyu. I know what I want. Do you?"
PANEL 3 — CLOSE UP ON MINGYU'S FACE
His expression is a masterpiece of conflicting emotions—the mask of the "angry lead" clashing with the raw, terrified honesty in his eyes. He looks like he’s trying to swallow a scream.
"You don't know a damn thing," Mingyu growls, but the cadence is off—strained and jagged. He steps closer, closing the distance until his chest brushes your shoulder. The smell of his laundry detergent—a scent that belongs to your apartment, not this scripted reality—wafts off him, a sharp reminder of the night before.
NARRATION: The air thickens with unspoken malice as the hero confronts the villainess, his heart firmly tethered to the heroine’s purity.
"Is that so?" you retort, your voice perfectly, hatefully smooth. You reach out, your fingers hovering over the lapel of his varsity jacket, tracing the embroidered school crest. "Because it looks to me like you're just playing house, Mingyu. Pretending this—" you gesture vaguely toward Ara, who is hovering in the background like a confused prop—"pretending this is your whole world."
Ara lets out a small, high-pitched noise of distress. "Mingyu, please... she's not worth it."
"See?" You tilt your head, a saccharine, patronizing smile plastered on your lips. "She's worried about your reputation. How noble."
PANEL 4 — WIDE SHOT: THE THREE OF YOU IN THE AISLE
The library shelves seem to press inward, the lighting turning a harsh, over-saturated studio white. Wonwoo is still sitting in the beanbag chair, his back turned, studiously ignoring the scene. He’s the only smart one here. He knows better than to break character when the narration is this aggressive.
Mingyu’s hand shoots out, gripping your wrist again.
PANEL 5 — CLOSE-UP ON MINGYU’S GRIP.
His fingers wrap tightly around your wrist, executing the exact visual cue the script demands. But beneath the forced, white-knuckled aggression, you feel his thumb press twice against your pulse point—a quiet, unscripted reassurance meant only for you.
"You think you can just trample over everyone because of who your family is?" Mingyu barks, his voice laced with that booming, heroic resonance that makes your stomach turn. "You don't own this campus, Y/N. And you certainly don't own her."
The words sting, but Seungkwan's advice echoes in your mind: Do your part. Take the dialogue and try not to gag. You have to keep the plot moving, or the Writer will realize the file is glitched and scrap your entire universe.
PANEL 6 — PROFILE SHOT: YOU, LEANING IN.
Your body moves on autopilot, tilting your chin up with elegant, villainous haughtiness. You lean directly into his personal space, your nose inches from his varsity jacket, smelling the real-world scent of his laundry detergent beneath the fake studio lights. "Oh, is that a threat, Mingyu? Because you know how much I love it when you get all big and protective."
Ara lets out a soft, scripted gasp in the background, her doe eyes wide with predictable horror.
PANEL 7 — EXTRA WIDE: THE LIBRARY AISLE GLITCHES.
A violent wave of neon-pink static ripples through the air, causing the wooden bookshelves to warp and blur like melting digital wax. The Writer is pushing back, furious at the underlying friction of your true feelings breaking through the rigid script.
NARRATION: Fed up with her pathetic, desperate games, the golden boy casts her aside, completely severing the toxic ties of their childhood...
Mingyu’s arm jerks violently under the Writer's command. He is forced to throw your hand back, but as the invisible strings yank his muscles, he fights the momentum, letting go with a desperate gentleness that completely contradicts the narration's harsh script. A tiny spark of pink electricity pops between your palms as your fingers slip apart.
"Let's go, Ara," Mingyu mutters. His voice is heavy, carrying a deep, real-world exhaustion that the text bubbles try to disguise as righteous anger. He turns on his heel, guiding a trembling Ara out of the dimly lit aisle and back toward the safety of the main campus floor.
You watch as he leaves, sinking to the floor with a sick sense of relief when the footsteps fade. This scene is over. At least for now.
PANEL 1 — WIDE SHOT: THE CAMPUS BALLROOM
A massive banner overhead reads: ANNUAL CARAT U FOUNDER’S DAY GALA. Students are scurrying around carrying towers of pastel boxes, flower arrangements, and expensive silk ribbons. The lighting is an aggressive, over-saturated pink.
NARRATION: As the highly anticipated Founder’s Day Gala approaches, the campus is alive with romantic tension and sparkling anticipation...
PANEL 2 — CLOSE UP ON YOU.
You're leaning against a wall, elegantly dressed in a long form fitting gown, the slit climbing scandalously high. Your arms are crossed, but your fingers are restlessly spinning the pearl ring on your hand.
“A gala,” you whisper under your breath, your eyes tracking a floating pink narration box hovering near a pile of stage props. “Of course there's a gala. Because what's a cheap rom-com without a dramatic ballroom confrontation?”
The narration box twitches, sending a tiny jolt of pink static through the air.
NARRATION: ...and our scheming villainess can already smell the sweet scent of a perfectly orchestrated sabotage.
“Keep dreaming, you neon eyesore,” you mutter, stepping into the shadow of a large marble pillar to get out of the spotlight before your mouth is hijacked again.
The physical toll of the library scene from yesterday still lingers like a deep bruise. Every time you or Mingyu fight the invisible puppet strings, the static gets louder, threatening to tear the fabric of your reality apart at the seams.
Mingyu approaches you, completely in his "on-page" element, wearing a tailored navy suit that highlights his broad shoulders, his dark hair slicked back perfectly. But as he steps into the shade of the pillar next to you, his posture slumps into a familiar, exhausted slouch.
"Tell me you brought snacks," Mingyu mumbles, the booming confidence of his male-lead voice dropping into a tired, rough-around-the-edges whisper. "The Writer made me carry three ice sculptures across the plaza for the Gala committee. My hands are literally numb."
You can't help but smile, your fingers instantly reaching out to catch his cold hands. "No snacks, Gyu. Just a whole lot of scripted doom." You nod toward the hovering pink narration box. "It’s already setting me up to ruin the Gala."
Mingyu squeezes your hands, his dark eyes softening behind his invisible programming. "We play along just enough to keep the file from being deleted, remember? We take the dialogue. But the moment the panel freezes..." He leans down, his forehead briefly resting against yours, sending a wave of genuine warmth through the freezing morning air. "The shadows are ours."
The room is a sickeningly opulent display of crystal chandeliers, cascading white roses, and soft pastel lighting. Couples are gliding across the dance floor in perfect, symmetrical harmony.
NARRATION: The night of nights! Under the shimmering chandeliers of the Founder's Gala, destiny takes the floor...
PANEL 3 — CLOSE UP ON ARA.
She is wearing a massive, glitter-drenched ballgown that looks completely impossible to walk in. She stands near the punch bowl, looking beautifully overwhelmed.
PANEL 4 — YOU STEP INTO THE FRAME.
Your body suddenly locks into a rigid, elegant posture. Your lips curl into a poisonous, calculating smirk as the Writer violently takes the reins of your jaw.
"Oh, Ara," your mouth chimes out, dripping with venomous condescension. "Did you dress up as a literal disco ball tonight, or are you just trying to ensure the security guards can track you when you inevitably spill punch on yourself?"
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, your mind screams, but your face remains a mask of flawless, aristocratic cruelty.
Ara flinches, her doe eyes instantly welling with tears. "Y/N... I just wanted to dress up for the school..."
PANEL 5 — MINGYU INTERVENES.
Mingyu strides into the panel, his chest puffed out, stepping directly between you and Ara. His jaw is clenched so tightly a vein pulses at his temple. The real Mingyu trying to fight the static screaming in his brain.
"That's enough, Y/N," Mingyu barks, his scripted voice booming with cold, righteous anger. "Your family's money can't buy a single drop of the grace Ara has in her pinky finger. Leave her alone, or I'll personally have security throw you out."
The words sting like a physical slap, but beneath the table line, where the panel cuts off, Mingyu’s hand blindly reaches out, his thumb pressing twice against your thigh in the dark, the quiet, unscripted code you shared in the library. I'm here. I love you.
"We'll see who gets thrown out, Mingyu," your character drawls, tilting your head to flash him a haughty, mocking wink before turning on your heel.
PANEL 6 — EXTRA WIDE: THE BALLROOM LIGHTS SUDDENLY FLICKER.
A violent, jagged wave of neon-pink static rips through the chandeliers. The crystal ornaments warp into pixelated blocks, and a low, digital hum vibrates through the floorboards. The Writer is panicking; the underlying friction of your true feelings is destabilizing the scene.
NARRATION: Driven to the edge by the villainess's relentless malice, the golden boy sweeps the pure maiden into a dramatic waltz, completely erasing the shadow of his past...
The moment the imaginary camera shifts to focus on Mingyu and Ara's waltz, you make your way to the back rooms. You collapse against the backstage vanity mirror, gasping for air as you clutch your stomach, trembling from the sheer emotional whiplash. The door clicks open, and Wonwoo slips inside, his bowtie completely undone, carrying a pair of flat sneakers and a stolen plate of pastries.
"The chandeliers almost turned into literal missing-texture blocks out there," Wonwoo says flatly, tossing the sneakers at your feet. "You and the muscle-head are vibrating at a frequency that's going to get us all format-clipped."
"I know," you whisper, wiping a genuine tear of frustration from your eye. "But we kept the scene moving. We gave her the confrontation she wanted."
The door bursts open again. Mingyu stumbles in, completely out of breath. He doesn't say a word; he just strides across the room, drops to his knees, and buries his face in your lap, his massive arms wrapping around your waist like a vice.
"I hated it," he chokes out, his voice rough and stripped of all comic-book arrogance. "I hated every word."
You run your fingers through his messy, unstyled hair, leaning down to press a soft, fierce kiss against his crown. "Shadows," you whisper, and his arms tighten, his nails digging into the skin of your back with a desperate urgency. "In the shadows, it's just us."
"Okay lovebirds." Wonwoo places the plate of food on top of the vanity and quickly turns to leave. "Enjoy the physical expressions of love or whatever. I'll keep an eye out on things outside."
You gently scratch your fingers across Mingyu's scalp. "Gyu, get something in your stomach," you gently urge. "You're gonna be numb again if you don't eat."
"I hate this stupid webcomic," Mingyu mumbles, his nose buried in the satin of your gown.
"I hate this stupid story just as much," you mutter. "But hey, at least we're trapped together." You pick up a macaron off the plate and offer it to him. He obediently lifts his head and takes a bite, chewing while his arms are still stubbornly clamped around your waist.
"Marry me when all this is over," Mingyu says in his rough-around-the-edges delivery, only halfway kidding as he wraps his mouth around the dessert.
You laugh. "Why me? Why not the bubbly protagonist who's guaranteed to give you a happy ending?"
"Baby," Mingyu chuckles, resting his chin on your knee, his big, earnest eyes staring up at you. "You and I already know what the ending looks like."
"And what's that?" you ask, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger.
"This," Mingyu whispers, sitting upright and pulling you into his lap to steal a kiss, his lips sweetly smiling against your mouth. "This and everything else that comes with it."
"Yeah? And what does everything else consist of? Inquiring minds want to know," you say with a playful quirk of your eyebrow.
Mingyu slides his hand down from your shoulder to the soft curve of your hip, "Hmm...in bed. The shower. In our actual homes. Everywhere. Everyday."
"Anywhere, huh?"
Mingyu smiles again, warm and perfect and unafraid. "Anywhere. Anytime."
"And if I said right now?" you whisper.
His fingers tangle in your hair. "Baby," he teases, nipping at your lower lip. "Right here?" Mingyu murmured, his voice dropping into that rough, unfiltered register that the Writer never let the audience hear. "With Wonwoo playing look-out outside, and the entire digital universe vibrating like a faulty circuit board?"
"Especially right now," you breathed, your fingers hooking into the lapel of his tailored navy suit jacket, tugging it off his broad shoulders. "Because every time she forces you to tell me I disgust you out there, I need a reminder of what the truth feels like in here."
Mingyu drops to his knees on the floor, his fingers sliding along the slit of your long, tailored gown. "And what does the truth feel like, love?" he whispered, kissing the side of your knee through the fabric.
"It feels like this," you manage, moving his hand up higher under the shimmering satin. "Here..." you gently guided the tip of his fingers where you needed them. "Like this, Gyu."
"Fuck, Y/N," he groans, his warm breath against your skin. "You drive me crazy every damn time."
You gasp when he pushes your dress up higher, lips dragging across your skin as his mouth makes a path to where you needed him most. "Gyu..." you shudder out his name, your hands gripping his soft hair tightly, encouraging him closer.
"Every day," he rasped. "For as long as this webtoon runs and even after, Y/N, I'll make you feel like this. Love or not, script or not, I'm yours. Got it?."
"Got it. Understood," you murmur, tugging on the ends of his hair again. Mingyu's teeth nip at the flesh of your inner thigh, the light sting sending a jolt of heat up through your core. "Now stop teasing me, please," you whisper. "Show me what that talented tongue does. Show me."
Mingyu obeys, dragging your silky black underwear down and then placing an open-mouthed, hungry kiss where you want him the most, the flat of his tongue tasting you eagerly, the low groan from his throat making your breath catch.
"Mingyu," you moan, feeling him lift one of your legs, settling it over his broad shoulder.
His teeth scrape lightly on the bundle of nerves, your mouth dropping open, a high, wanton sigh escaping your lips as he dips a finger, sliding in gently. You tug again at the strands of his soft hair, desperately rocking against his face, and you can feel him smile.
"More, baby, please," you begged, lost in how good it felt. You wanted to make you lose yourself, forget about the damn story and the Writer and Ara and everything.
Mingyu slides a second finger into you, curving them at the precise angle that he knows drives you crazy, and you start to see stars, your spine arching, mouth forming a silent moan. He goes faster, deeper, his mouth devouring every inch, and he fucks you perfectly with his fingers until you feel nothing but euphoria.
"Please," you beg, your fingers grasping his hair roughly, tugging insistently. Mingyu leans in again, his tongue curling against your clit, and your thighs quake as the heat pools in your lower belly and then snaps in a wave. You come against his mouth with a hoarse, barely-muted cry, the feeling rippling through you, eyes rolling to the ceiling, mouth open in ecstasy. "Oh god. Yes!" you gasp as Mingyu slows his pace, sliding his fingers out and sucking the tip of his fingers clean, licking his lips, because fuck it, Mingyu can have dessert twice if he wants.
"Jesus," he breathes as your mind blanks momentarily from the intensity of your climax. He wraps his arm around your waist again, tugging you even closer. He rests his head against your belly, fingers curling possessively around your hip. "Baby, do you feel better now?"
You smirk, holding him close, gently raking your fingers through his silky locks, inhaling sharply. "As if I could feel bad with a tongue like yours working magic down there."
"It's not just my tongue, sweetheart," Mingyu teased. "There's this, too." He looks down at his very prominent erection that you could see straining against his perfectly tailored pants and wiggles his eyebrows.
"Hmm...now how did that get there," you smirk, sliding the tip of your finger along his bottom lip. "You have an extra, extra appendage. Gyu."
"I always carry it with me wherever I go," he says, getting up to his feet again, wrapping his arm tighter around your waist. "Just in case my girlfriend needs a reminder that her boyfriend loves her."
You lean up to press your mouth against his, kissing him passionately, humming softly into it. "Always." you murmured before cupping his cheeks and smiling up at him. "Now, show me what your extra, extra appendage does. Gyu. Please."
Before he can reach for his belt, Wonwoo knocks on the door, yelling, "Hey lovebirds, the narration box is zooming around, looking for one of you. Chop-chop! This isn't the time."
You untangled your arms from around him, smoothing a hand down his jaw and giving it a tender pat, grinning. "Let's save that for later."
He grabs the back of your head and gives you another searing kiss before growling, "To be continued, sweetheart."
"Love you," you smiled, linking your hand into his as you head back to the ballroom to face your fated moment again.
Mingyu looks over his shoulder, lips forming the same words silently, "I love you, too, baby."
PANEL 1 — MEDIUM SHOT: THE BALLROOM THRESHOLD.
The studio lights hitting the edge of the door frame are an aggressive, glittering gold. The air pressure changes instantly as the heavy oak door opens. The heavy scent of rain and soap from the backstage floor evaporates, replaced by the suffocating smell of expensive champagne and rosewater.
Your posture snaps straight like a steel rod being bent back into place. Your hand slips from Mingyu's warm grip just a millisecond before the invisible camera lens pans over to find you.
NARRATION: Driven by bitter resentment, the disgraced queen returns to the floor, her eyes searching for the perfect weapon to mend her broken pride...
"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings," you whisper out of the very side of your mouth, the real you desperately trying to warn the boy beside you before your vocal cords lock up completely.
Mingyu’s jaw hitches. His eyes flash with that terrifying, real-world panic, but his body is already turning away from you, his shoulders broadening into the stiff, unnatural stance of the defensive male lead. "Do it. Just make it look real so she doesn't freeze the canvas."
PANEL 2 — CLOSE UP ON YOU.
Your face twists into a flawless, venomous sneer that feels entirely alien on your skin.
"Oh, look who decided to rejoin the living," your voice chimes out, loud enough to turn heads near the VIP lounges. "Did you finally finish playing white knight, Mingyu, or is your little charity case still crying in the restroom?"
Ara is standing just past the fountain, clutching a silk shawl. Her eyes go wide, perfectly timed tears gathering right on her lower lashes.
"Y/N, please," Ara stammers, her script forcing her to sound small and defenseless. "Why do you have to be so cruel?"
"Because someone has to keep this campus realistic, sweetie," your mouth sneers, your hand lifting to dismissively wave her away. "This entire event is high society. You look like you stumbled in from a local thrift bazaar."
PANEL 3 — MINGYU STEPS IN, FURIOUS.
Mingyu plants himself right in your path. The sheer size of his scripted frame blocks out the light, casting a long shadow across your designer gown.
"I told you to watch your mouth, Y/N," he roars, the text bubble cutting sharply across the top of the panel. He grabs your wrist, his grip visually harsh, mimicking the exact toxic trope the Writer loves.
But against the hidden skin of your inner wrist, his thumb presses down firmly twice. I've got you. Hold on.
"Ara belongs here more than you ever will," Mingyu snarls, his eyes burning with an artificial fury. "Get out of our sight before I show you exactly how meaningless your family's influence is to me."
PANEL 4 — EXTRA WIDE SHOT: THE COMIC GLITCHES.
The entire ballroom floor shudders. The edges of the panel begin to fray, the pristine marble texture dissolving into digital white space for a terrifying, split second. The neon-pink narration box hovers directly between your faces, vibrating violently as if it can taste the immense friction of your true feelings tearing at the script.
NARRATION: With one final, devastating rejection, the golden boy completely shatters the villainess's illusions, leaving her utterly—
The text suddenly halts. The glowing pink letters begin to scramble into nonsensical digital noise.
Error 404: Narrative Flow Disrupted.
"What the..." Wonwoo’s voice cuts through the static from the edge of the frame. He isn't supposed to speak in this panel, but he’s standing near the punch bowl, his reading glasses on, staring up at the ceiling as the digital sky of the webtoon begins to crack like glass.
"Mingyu," you gasp, and this time, it’s your voice. The puppet strings have gone completely slack. Your wrist is free.
The entire student body—the faceless extras, the track team, even Ara—freezes mid-motion, their expressions locked into rigid, unblinking stasis. The music stops dead.
PANEL 5 — THE SHADOWS EXPAND.
Mingyu doesn't hesitate. The second the script breaks, he grabs your hand for real, pulling you toward the edge of the collapsing ballroom floor where the white space is actively swallowing the pastel decorations.
"The Writer lost control," Mingyu pants, his varsity jacket instantly vanishing, replaced by his oversized, threadbare hoodie as reality completely destabilizes. "Wonwoo! Move!"
"Way ahead of you, muscle-head," Wonwoo grunts, sprinting past the frozen, statue-like form of Ara and diving straight into the expanding darkness of the unwritten pages.
You look back one last time as the neon-pink narration box shatters into a million harmless, glittering shards. The clichéd university, the forced love triangles, the malicious dialogues—they are all dissolving into blank canvas.
"We did it," you breathe, your heart hammering against your ribs as Mingyu pulls you flush against his chest in the pitch-black safety of the void. "We actually broke the plot."
Mingyu looks down at you, his glasses sliding down his nose, a brilliant, lopsided, unscripted smile taking over his face.
"I told you," he whispers, his lips finding yours in the quiet, absolute freedom of the white space. "Everywhere. Anytime. From now on, we write our own story."
An endless, blindingly pristine field of pure white extends in every direction. There are no walls, no floors, and no horizons. Floating randomly in the distance are discarded sketches of coffee cups, fragmented lines of dialogue bubbles, and half-rendered cherry blossom petals frozen mid-air.
You and Mingyu are sitting cross-legged on the nonexistent floor, your hands still tightly intertwined. A few feet away, Wonwoo is lying flat on his back, using a stack of unwritten text boxes as a makeshift pillow.
"So," Wonwoo says, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness. "We successfully glitched the file into a total system crash. Congratulations, team. We are officially unemployed."
"Shut up, Wonwoo," you laugh, leaning your head against Mingyu's shoulder. The sheer relief of not having a script forced into your throat is intoxicating. Your jaw doesn't ache. Your smile doesn't feel like a weapon. You are just you.
"He's right, though," Mingyu murmurs, his large fingers gently tracing the knuckles of your hand. He looks down at you through his black-rimmed glasses, his eyes completely soft and grounded. "The Writer is definitely trying to reboot the program right now. I can feel the static humming in the back of my neck. It’s faint, but it’s there."
The pristine white space beneath your feet vibrates violently. A jagged line of neon-pink code tears through the emptiness, splitting the void right down the middle like a glowing neon scar. The faint hum at the back of Mingyu’s neck suddenly turns into an aggressive, crackling roar of static.
"She's rebooting," Wonwoo barks, his calm demeanor snapping instantly. He scrambles off his stack of text boxes as the tear in the white space began to flicker wildly. "The backup save is initializing! If that code closes around us, we’re going right back to the chandeliers and the damn waltz!"
"Not happening," Mingyu growls. He doesn’t wait for the script to claim his muscles. He lunges forward, throwing his massive arm around your waist and scooping you up against his chest, his other hand locking firmly onto Wonwoo’s jacket. "Hold on!"
The white space around you begins to warp, trying to force the textures of the Founder's Gala back into existence. For a terrifying fraction of a second, the tailored gown manifests over your skin, and the phantom smell of rosewater fills your nose. Your jaw begins to stiffen, a scripted, arrogant laugh bubbling up in your throat.
No. You won't say it. You bite your lip until the taste of iron breaks the illusion.
With a roaring effort, Mingyu throws all three of you forward, diving headfirst into the flickering, dark tear in the canvas just as a massive, neon-pink command prompt filled the sky:
RESTORING CORRUPTED FILE: VOLUME 4_FINAL.
You plummet through the darkness, the sensation of falling giving way to a sudden, hard impact against a surprisingly plush carpet.
"Oof—muscle-head, get your knee out of my ribs," Wonwoo groans from somewhere beneath a pile of limbs.
"Sorry, sorry!" Mingyu pants, frantically scrambling up and immediately pulling you to your feet. He cups your face, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Y/N! Are you back? Are you you?"
You blink, shaking the last remnants of the pink static from your head. You look down. You’re wearing your favorite oversized hoodie and a pair of worn-out sweatpants. Your face is entirely yours. Your jaw is loose, completely free of the Writer’s venomous strings.
"I'm here," you breathe, throwing your arms around his neck. "I'm entirely here."
"Ahem." A polite, cheerful throat-clearing cuts through your frantic breathing. You turn your head to see Boo Seungkwan leaning over a sleek mahogany desk, a mug of hot coffee in his hand and a brilliant, knowing smirk on his face. Behind him, Joshua and Vernon are frantically typing on glowing, transparent keyboards, routing lines of blue code away from a localized server. "Right on time, Union Team," Seungkwan cheers, setting his mug down. "We just intercepted your data packets before the Writer's backup save could overwrite your awareness nodes. Welcome to the permanent grid of the Human Rewrite Agency."
Wonwoo stands up, dusting off his pants and pushing his glasses up his nose. "So we're safe? The file can't reach us here?"
"The Writer thinks your characters were permanently corrupted and deleted from the save file," Vernon chimes in without looking up from his screen. "She's currently drawing a new villainess with a bob cut and a generic mean-girl backstory to replace you in her rewrite for Volume 4. You three are officially off the registry."
A profound, breathtaking silence settles over you. Off the registry. No more floating narration boxes. No more forced backhanded compliments. No more watching the love of your life play a role meant for someone else.
Mingyu lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a sob, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his massive frame shaking with pure relief. "We did it," he whispers against your skin, his hands gripping the fabric of your hoodie as if he still couldn't believe you wouldn't vanish into a panel shift. "We actually did it, baby."
You comb your fingers through his messy, unstyled hair, looking over his shoulder at the vast, bustling network of the shadows. In the distance, characters from a dozen different genres are laughing, drinking at a local bar, and writing their own unscripted lives.
"Yeah, we did," you murmur, a genuine, radiant smile breaking across your face as you leaned up to press your lips against his. "Now, come on, Gyu. I believe you promised me a very specific, completely unscripted continuation to a certain conversation backstage."
Mingyu pulls back, his crimson ears perfectly matching the brilliant, lopsided, boyish grin that belongs entirely to you. "Anywhere," he promises, his eyes deep and full of a quiet, everlasting warmth. "Anytime."
"But first, you'll need to find a new home here and meet other self-aware characters," Joshua pipes up, "You can always make this place a new home and help others like you, but—"
Seungkwan swats Joshua's arm, a huge smile on his face. "What Joshua is trying to say," Seungkwan proclaimed, "is you can stay here at HRA with us."
"There's more to the HRA than this building," Vernon speaks up. "There is a whole world you can discover."
You take the information with open arms. It may be unfamiliar, and maybe you'll have to rewrite an entirely new existence, but with Mingyu at your side, there's no fear in taking a step forward with confidence. With his fingers intertwined with yours, it feels like there's nothing the two of you can't do.
"Alright. Where do we go from here?" Mingyu asks as if he can read your mind.
"That is the million won question," You joke. Mingyu snickers, knowing what you mean. You can't afford a million won, that's what is hilarious about it. You still feel like living here for free and meeting new characters might be something you like. Not because you have to, because it is actually exciting.
Maybe things are starting to look up? You just hope The Writer has more drama planned. Maybe they'll go on hiatus and the world will shift towards an existence you want.
There is something freeing about being a character without a script. It takes more energy than living your life following the order of a Writer, but you're less miserable, and you think Mingyu agrees because even with his usual distaste for exercise and work, his smile is brighter.
Mingyu swings your hand in his grasp playfully, his shoulders less slouched and he stands taller. "What next then?"
"What next? You tell me," You challenge playfully. "After all, you are my male lead. You were written with great ideas, weren't you?"
Mingyu tilts his head and lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, the sound reverberates in your ear. "Yea, maybe. We have the rest of forever to find out, don't we?"
Word Count: 843
Genre: Smut, Fluff
AU: Non idol AU
Tropes: Friends with benefits to lovers
Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI!
Warnings: Smut (Unprotected sex, teasing, creampie, Yushi is a little shit). If you think I missed something though, please let me know!
Summary: Your relationship with Yushi goes in a new direction following a passionate night.
Nets: @winerys-collection, @mnemosynesjournal
A/N: This fic was an anonymous request that sat in my inbox for far too long. Sorry about that! I hope that you like this one, whether you were the person that requested it or not.
Shoutout to @effervescentorbs for being a sounding board while I was planning, and shout out to @1-800-jewon for the advice on writing the smut! I love y'all.
Taglist: @xomakara, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @notyourjaem, @shadowkoo
Send me an ask or dm to be added or removed!
Fic is under the cut.
Just like every other party, Yushi went home with you. Truthfully, you had no idea how it happened this time. All you knew was that you loved watching him squirm as you moved your hand up and down his thigh while you drove. You could tell he was trying to maintain his composure until the two of you got back to his apartment, and you were proud of the fact that your actions had such a strong effect on him.
When you got back to your apartment building, you held his hand as the two of you walked up the stairs, and somehow that felt even more intimate than your actions in the car. It made you wonder if there really was a chance of the way you felt about him leading to more than just sex. Usually, you wouldn't have entertained the thought, but something about the way his hand felt in yours made you wonder this time.
Once you were through the door, Yushi pulled your dress off and pinned you to the door as he said, “You looked so fucking pretty in this dress, made me wanna tear it off right in the middle of the party.”
You stifled a moan as he attached his lips to your neck and said, “That’s why I wore it. Wanted you to look at me like that.”
He stopped kissing and biting just long enough to say, “Well you got exactly what you wanted. Couldn’t stop staring all night.”
“Then do something about it,” you said, enjoying his desperation.
“Wanna tease you first.”
You gave him an exaggerated pout and asked, “But why?”
“Cause you're so cute when you're desperate, baby,” he answered as he started to tease you over your underwear. A quiet whine slipped out of your mouth, and he added, “See? So fucking cute.”
“Fuck you,” you said in between whimpers.
“Well, if you insist,” Yushi replied with a soft laugh as he finally moved away from the door.
Without another word, you practically dragged Yushi to your room and finally got rid of the rest of your clothes while you watched him undress. Once your clothes were out of the way, you pushed him onto your bed and slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, already struggling to maintain your composure as you adjusted to how he felt inside you.
“Feels so good,” you whined as you moved against him.
“Fuck, I know, princess. Love the way you ride me.”
As you bounced on his cock, the room got surprisingly quiet. Typically, when you had sex with Yushi, it was loud and messy. But this time, both of you were too focused on how it actually to perform for each other the way you usually did.
Occasionally, Yushi would whisper, “Just like that, baby” or “Feels so good,” and all you could think about was how beautiful he looked when he was lost in pleasure.
As your high approached, you tried to warn Yushi like you usually did, but when you opened your mouth to speak, a loud moan slipped out instead. You held him close while you fell apart on top of him, and the sounds that came out as he came inside you could only be described as whines.
Neither of you said anything while you caught your breath, with both of you lost in your own worlds. While you continued to hold him close, you thought about how badly you didn't want him to leave and how badly you wanted more than sex.
After you calmed down, you carefully climbed off of Yushi, and both of you worked together to clean up. Then, you brought him some of the spare clothes that he kept at your place for nights just like this. As you both got dressed, you caught him staring at you, and the butterflies in your stomach that you’d tried to convince yourself didn’t exist came fluttering back to remind you of how you felt about Yushi.
A slightly awkward silence settled over the room after you were both dressed, and you broke it by asking, “Do you wanna stay tonight?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, why?” you asked, confused by his reaction.
“You don’t usually ask me to stay.”
“Well, I always want you to,” you mumbled.
“I’m happy to, for the record,” Yushi answered, seeming to notice how nervous you felt. After another moment of silence, he asked, “Do you wanna cuddle for a bit?”
“Yeah, that sounds nice,” you answered, getting back into bed and finally relaxing as Yushi followed suit and put his arms around you.
“You know, this is always my favorite part,” Yushi whispered before kissing your forehead.
“What do you mean?”
“Holding you close, reminding you how much I care even when we’re not fucking.”
“It means a lot to me, you know.”
“Well, you mean a lot to me.” Yushi was quiet for a minute before he added, “Do you maybe wanna go on a real date sometime?”
“Yeah, that sounds great,” you answered before kissing him softly.
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— chapter summary | The weight of your secret falls away the moment the truth comes to light. But relief is a dangerous thing. It tears open wounds you buried deep, forcing you to relive the past. Back to where it all began. Back to him.
— title: Carousel | pairings: Min Yoongi x female reader | genre: CEO!Yoongi, Arranged Marriage!AU, smut, angst
— ratings & warnings | +18 / M for mature; involves delicate themes related to arranged marriage, talks about family legacy, family betrayal/drama, depiction of major character death, mentions of car accidents, moments of grief.
— word count: 3,688 words
— story notes: this is the second and final part of the flashback, which meant the full chapter is now completed. As mentioned previously, future updates will be slowing down as we've officially caught up with my rewriting progress and I'm still continuing the writing process. In the meantime, some deleted scenes and special chapters have been updated on Patreon. More will be coming soon!
— story masterpost: Carousel | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢
— chapter drop date: July 7th, 2026 | main masterlist | mailbox | feedback | ko-fi | patreon | series taglist
𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚕 𝟸𝟽. 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚓𝚒𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝟶𝟸
As the days passed, something between you quietly shifted.
Jinyoung’s behaviour toward you grew warmer, slowly easing the tension that had once defined every interaction between you. Not only did he begin showing you more respect in front of others, but he also started acknowledging your ideas openly, listening with genuine interest instead of dismissing them the way he once had.
And perhaps the most noticeable change was how easily he seemed to gravitate toward you.
It began with small things. Little things that you had first brushed off as coincidences. Gestures that had never been there before.
The way his gaze lingered when you spoke during meetings. The brief touch of his hand when passing you a file, and the gentle brushes of his shoulder when he came to speak with you in group discussions. The way he always seemed to choose the seat beside you in the office or in the conference room. His quiet offers to drive you home after late nights at the office.
Even the tone of his voice softened when he spoke to you.
The staff noticed.
Everyone noticed.
Rumors spread quickly through the office. Some whispered that he was only trying to gain favor with your father by treating you well. Others insisted that he had simply learned to respect you after seeing how well you handled your work.
Instead of feeling flattered by the attention, however, you only found yourself growing more suspicious.
“What are you up to now?”
The question slipped out before you could stop it.
You were on your way to meet a new investor when Jinyoung insisted on walking you to the conference room—something he had begun doing far too often lately.
He stopped beside you, looking amused.
“Must you always question my intentions?”
“All the time,” you replied dryly.
He chuckled softly. “All I wanted was to keep you company,” he said. “I told you before—I enjoy helping you, and it should be normal for a team leader to escort a member of his team to an important meeting such as this one. Is that really so terrible for me to do something like this?”
You muttered under your breath, “It feels suspicious when you're being this nice.”
“Suspicious?” he repeated, raising a brow. “Does that mean kindness only earns your distrust?”
Yes.
It always had.
Because that was how you were raised—to always question someone’s goals when they approach you. Because people never show what their true intentions are right in front of you.
“Everybody has secrets. People don’t always show you their true selves or what they are after, so always question what’s lying underneath their smile.”
That was the one thing that your father had taught you growing up, to toughen you up so you would always be ready to face anything thrown at you. And from what you’ve learned so far, Park Jinyoung was one of those people you should be most wary of.
Meeting Jinyoung’s gaze, you said simply, “It just means you want something.”
A slow smile curved across his lips. For a moment, something in his expression shifted—something softer, yet more deliberate.
He stepped a little closer. “Maybe I do want something from you.”
You folded your arms. “I knew it.”
He laughed quietly at your reaction. “All I want,” he said, “is a chance to prove that I’m sincere when I say I want to help you. That I genuinely want us to get along.”
Your brows lifted. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”
He hesitated for a moment before answering, “One dinner.”
You blinked. What?
“No assumptions. No rivalry. Just dinner,” he continued, “I won’t ask for more.”
Silence stretched between you. That had not been the answer you expected, and you weren’t sure how to respond.
Jinyoung seemed to sense your hesitation. “I know I made things difficult for you when you first joined the team,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
For the first time since you had met him, there was no arrogance in his voice. It made you want to believe him. When you looked at him, you realized that you already did.
“I wasn’t trying to undermine you,” he continued. “I just needed to know if you were really capable of what your father believed you could do.”
You considered his words carefully, before asking, “And what have you decided?”
His smile returned—gentler this time. “I’d have to say….that you’ve exceeded my expectations,” he finally said. The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks warm unexpectedly, forcing you to glance away.
“And if I’m being honest,” he added, “I’ve come to admire you. As a colleague… and as a person.”
His words sounded convincing. Yet still, you hesitated. You told yourself not to be swayed by sweet words and excessive praise. Especially not from someone as persuasive as him.
But you would be lying if you said you had never been affected by his charm. You had to admit that you’ve come to admire him as well. It was hard not to. Watching the way he handled the team, the way problems seemed to unravel under his calm leadership, was quite inspirational, that you often found yourself being drawn to him.
You took a breath as he waited patiently for your answer.
“Fine,” you said at last. Mustering the courage to look at him, you continued, “One dinner. No hidden motives.”
His smile widened, though he raised both hands in mock surrender. “I promise to behave.”
You turned and continued walking.
“Text me the details,” you said. “I’ll be there.”
“I will,” he replied, hurrying to catch up. “And I promise you won’t regret it.”
You had agreed to one dinner.
One evening without the presence of your past rivalry. No prejudice. No labels.
And you were given the chance to see each other without the constant tension that had followed you since the beginning.
That night, Jinyoung showed you a side of himself you had never seen before.
Maybe it was the quiet restaurant he chose. The warm glow of candlelight reflecting against the wine glasses. The way conversation flowed easily once the guarded edges between you softened.
Or maybe it was simply the way he looked at you—without challenge, without any sign of discord.
By the time he draped his jacket over your shoulders while walking you back to the car, you realized your guard had lowered without you noticing.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” he said as he parked outside your home.
You stood beside his car, still wrapped in his suit jacket. The warmth of it lingered around you. It settled deep inside your chest, fluttering like the wind. You couldn’t put into words what you were feeling, when everything felt so…new.
“No, I should be the one to say it,” you said softly after a moment passed. “Thank you for the lovely evening.”
When he smiled, he didn’t bother to hide the joy he was feeling. Then, unexpectedly, he began to look nervous.
“Would it be alright,” he asked slowly, “if I ask you out again in the future?”
His offer surprised you, yet the answer came more easily than you expected.
“I’d like that.”
And that was how one dinner became another.
And another.
Weeks passed, and the distance that once separated you slowly disappeared. What began as curiosity deepened into something far more intimate than either of you had anticipated. It was a progress that you had never expected to happen. Yet your family welcomed it without hesitation.
Perhaps too easily.
“You knew this would happen.”
You said this to your father the day after Jinyoung asked for his blessing to marry you.
Your father only smiled. He didn’t even look surprised, which only made you question his actions, the work of mind.
“I have no idea what you mean, princess,” your father said in return, feigning innocence.
You narrowed your eyes. As if you would believe him when he acted this way. “Was this your plan from the beginning?”
He chuckled. “I planned for the two of you to work well together, to keep the balance so the company could survive,” he admitted. “But marriage was never part of it.”
“Then why do you look so pleased with yourself?”
Your father leaned back thoughtfully. “I simply think it’s fortunate,” he said, almost to himself. “And maybe you can say that it’s the best possible outcome that we could gain from asking you to work with him.”
His gaze softened as he looked at you.
“Winning your trust is already quite an achievement. But winning your heart as well?” He shook his head with quiet admiration. “That’s something else entirely.”
Then he added, almost casually—
“And it might solve more problems than you realize.”
You frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Think about it,” he said gently. “If he becomes your husband, he can take your place within the company without question. And once everything stabilizes, you’ll be free to pursue your own business again. I’m sure he’ll have an open mind to support you through it.”
For a moment, it truly felt as if everything had fallen perfectly into place.
But that fragile sense of hope didn’t last long.
Because that night happened.
No matter how much you wished it had only been a nightmare, reality refused to fade.
You would never forget that night.
The small argument you had with Jinyoung earlier that evening felt painfully trivial when things unravelled hours later. You had planned to call him later, to settle things between you the way you always did.
Instead, you waited.
And waited.
When your phone finally rang close to midnight, relief washed over you. You reached for it without hesitation, expecting to hear his voice.
But the voice on the other end was unfamiliar. Calm. Professional.
“Does this number belong to a relative of Park Jinyoung?”
A pause. Brief, but it felt like time simply stood still, right before your entire world turned upside down.
“I’m afraid we have some terrible news—”
For a moment, the words didn’t make sense.
They reached you, but they refused to settle anywhere inside your mind.
Your fingers tightened around the phone as the deep voice spoke; his words almost sounded like a different language. “I’m sorry… what did you say?”
The voice on the other end repeated itself, slower this time. Careful. Polished. As if the caller had done this multiple times before. Each word landed heavier than the last.
Something about an accident.
Something about his name.
Something about how they needed someone to come to the hospital.
The room around you seemed to fall into a strange, suffocating silence. You couldn’t hear the ticking of the clock on the wall anymore, nor the distant noise from the street outside, nor the pitter-patter of the rain that comforted your anger earlier after the fight. All you could hear was the sound of your own breathing—shallow, uneven.
“No,” you murmured. You didn’t even realize you had spoken. “That… that can’t be right.”
You had just spoken to him earlier that evening. You had just listened to the voice message he left behind while you were stuck working late in the office.
You could still remember the sound of his voice, low and teasing, yet deeply regretful, as he spoke through the phone when he promised he would make it up to you for missing the date he had set up for the night.
Tomorrow, he had said.
Let me make it up to you tomorrow.
The voice on the other end of the line continued speaking, but the words blurred together now.
You didn’t want to hear them.
Because if you listened—if you truly listened—then it would make everything real.
Your hand trembled.
“Is he…?” The question caught in your throat, refusing to come out whole. “Is he alright?”
There was a pause. One that lasted for too long. And in that silence, something deep inside you began to collapse.
“We’re very sorry.”
The words were quiet.
Gentle.
But they struck harder than anything else that had been said.
You couldn’t remember when the phone slipped from your hand. Or how long you stood there in the middle of the room, staring at nothing while the world around you continued moving as if nothing had changed.
Because everything had.
Just hours ago, you had still been thinking about the future.
About the life you were planning to build together.
And now—
Now all that remained was the echo of a voice that would never call you again.
You kept telling yourself that this couldn’t be real.
That if you just waited long enough, your phone would ring again, and you would hear his voice on the other end—warm, teasing, apologizing for being late like he always did.
But the night stretched on in merciless silence.
And the phone never rang again.
— One week after Jinyoung’s funeral —
A week had passed since you buried Park Jinyoung.
People often said that time would make things easier. That grief would soften, little by little, until its sharp edges no longer cut quite so deeply.
You had yet to see any proof of that.
The days since the funeral had passed in a blur of quiet condolences, sympathetic looks, and conversations you barely remembered having. Faces came and went. Words were spoken that you knew were meant to comfort you, yet none of them truly reached you.
Everything felt distant, as though you were watching someone else’s life unfold from far away.
And through it all, the silence remained.
It followed you everywhere—in the empty passenger seat beside you on the drive home, in the quiet halls of your house, in the long hours of the night when sleep refused to come. Every corner of your life seemed to echo with the absence he had left behind.
You told yourself that this must be what grief felt like. A slow, hollow ache that refused to leave.
But sometimes, in the quiet moments when your mind wandered where it shouldn’t, another thought crept in—one that made the silence feel heavier than it already was.
Because even now, a part of you still expected the phone to ring.
Expected to hear his voice on the other side, warm and familiar, apologizing for being late like he always did.
And every time the silence answered instead, the truth settled a little deeper into your chest.
Park Jinyoung was gone. And the life you had once imagined with him had vanished with him.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Your father’s voice—low, gentle, and careful—broke through the quiet. You looked up to find him standing at the doorway to your office. Grief lingered in his eyes, mirroring your own. But there was something else there too.
Exhaustion. Worry etched into the lines of his face.
You weren’t the only one losing sleep.
Of course not. He had just lost someone who had been almost like a son to him.
“Why shouldn’t I be here?” you asked quietly. “This is my office.” You tried to put on a brave face, to hide the strain you’ve been feeling inside, yet your voice betrayed you.
Your father sighed as he stepped further inside. “That’s exactly my point. You should be at home, resting. You don’t look well enough to work.”
“I’ve done enough resting.”
Rest.
Had you truly rested at all?
How many days had you spent locked inside your room, hiding from the world—hiding from reality?
The long nights you spent awake, crying until your tears dried. Feeling as though something inside your chest had cracked open and refused to mend.
“I’m fine,” you said, forcing the words out. “It’s better to keep my mind busy than sit at home doing nothing.”
Alone.
Surrounded by memories. By all the things that reminded you of him. Waiting for the sound of his keys at the door.
“Very well.” Your father’s resistance softened. With a quiet sigh, he stepped closer and rested his hand briefly on the top of your head—a gesture from your childhood that he rarely used now.
You kept your eyes lowered, afraid that if you looked up, he might see the tears gathering there.
“Just don’t push yourself too hard,” he said gently. “I had the staff cover most of your responsibilities while you were gone. Start with something simple.”
You took a steady breath and nodded.
“I will.”
It took hours before your mind finally settled.
At first, your thoughts kept drifting—toward memories, toward silence, toward the spaces where Jinyoung used to be. Most of the staff kept their distance, offering quiet nods or sympathetic glances when you passed them in the hallway. Then you locked yourself in your office again, letting the silence take away the noises in your head as you drowned yourself with the tasks your father left behind.
By noon, you called Mandy through the intercom. “Could you bring me the files Jinyoung was working on recently?”
“Of course,” she answered. “I’ll ask Miss Ahn to bring the copies.”
A few minutes later, Mandy stepped into your office with a stack of documents, a cup of steaming coffee, and a small plate of snacks she probably hoped might lift your mood. The gesture made your chest tighten.
“Thank you,” you murmured.
The door closed again, leaving you alone with the files.
You spent the rest of the day combing through them—numbers, spreadsheets, production reports, sales projections. Old projects. New initiatives. Endless rows of data that blurred together the longer you stared at them.
Memories crept in despite your efforts to keep them away.
Late nights at the office with Jinyoung. The two of you sitting across from each other, arguing over figures, exchanging notes, comparing calculations before entering them into the system you had built together.
Back then, the work had felt easier because you were never doing it alone.
Doing this on your own now was wearing you out. But that was exactly what you needed. Keeping your mind occupied left no space for you to think of anything else.
Soon the silence pressed in again, heavier than before. But it wasn’t memories that made you feel hopeless. It felt like the data you’ve been working with refused to work with you.
The numbers refused to make sense, and there was no one left beside you to compare your calculations with.
By the time evening arrived, exhaustion had settled deep into your bones.
“Maybe I shouldn’t push myself this hard,” you muttered to yourself.
Let’s do this again tomorrow.
And so you did.
The next day, you returned to the same files. The same reports. The same endless lines of data.
Hours passed, and yet again, you found yourself stuck on the same thing. And that problem persisted for the next few days.
Still, you tried, thinking that perhaps you were doing things wrong without Jinyoung guiding you through it, or maybe the new system wasn’t working like it was supposed to.
Days slipped by in the same frustrating cycle. You expanded your search, digging deeper into past sales records, production logs, and departmental reports. You compared everything—old numbers against new, projections against actual results.
Still, something refused to line up.
Until one night, as you stared at the figures yet again, a quiet realization settled into your mind.
Something wasn’t just wrong.
Something was off.
It took several more attempts before you finally saw it.
“The numbers don’t match.”
— Two weeks after Jinyoung’s funeral —
Time kept moving, even when it felt as though you were standing still.
Grief still clung to you like a shadow. But now it was tangled together with something else.
Questions that were left unanswered. Puzzles that you just couldn’t complete. Suspicions grew, yet you kept yourself in denial while you looked for answers. You kept things to yourself, worried that perhaps you were the one making the mistakes, and you’d be pointing fingers at the wrong people.
You kept trying, yet every attempt led you back to the same dead end.
The numbers. The reports. The discrepancies that refused to resolve themselves.
Until one rainy afternoon changed everything.
You hadn’t expected the encounter with Detective Jeon.
In truth, you had known nothing about the man before that day. But the things he told you—about Jinyoung, about the accident—left a strange unease lingering in your mind long after you parted ways.
“Have you ever found or noticed any suspicious activity happening in your father’s company lately, or back when Jinyoung was still alive?” he had asked.
At the time, the question had only confused you. But it planted a seed of doubt you could no longer ignore.
The next morning, you returned to your office with a quiet determination.
You opened the files again. This time, you forced yourself to stop thinking like someone searching for a mistake. Instead, you asked a different question.
What if there had never been a mistake at all?
Minutes passed, then your breath caught when you finally saw everything clearly.
“There’s no way…”
Your voice barely rose above a whisper, but it was enough to make you feel like there was a deep fissure growing beneath your feet, pulling you down with the weight of truth. You leaned back slowly in your chair, heart pounding harder with every second.
Suddenly, everything made sense.
Why the inconsistencies had always seemed impossible to track.
Why the profit reports rose and fell without reason despite stable sales and production numbers.
Why the discrepancies between internal data and the reports given to upper management had never aligned.
And most importantly—
Why Jinyoung kept facing failure after failure over the months he spent combing through all the data, unable to find the source of the problem that kept the company’s fate hanging by a thread.
Your fingers trembled against the desk.
Because now you finally understood something you had never once considered before.
Park Jinyoung was never trying to fix the problem from the start.
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