summary: in which the guys joke that yunho is a pervert but they have no idea just how right they are
warning: hard dom yunho, bratty sub reader, throat fucking, oral, anal, squirting, cum eating, edging, light double penetration, unprotected sex, creampie
genre: smut
pairing: idol yunho x afab reader
word count: 3.3k
masterlist
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“I’m not a pervert.”
Lies. Yunho knew it. The guys knew it. It’s why they said it. He wouldn’t have denied it if they weren’t literally filming a variety show. Now all the fans were gonna see it. Make memes about it. Bring it up every chance they could. He sighed and dug through his duffel bag that had his regular clothes in for him to change back into after the filming of the variety show was done. “What….” He pulled out a pair of lace baby blue thongs that definitely weren’t his. Yours. He shoved them in there a couple of weeks ago when the group had to go to Japan that way he had something from you with him.
“See…” a hand snatched the thong from him, dangling them in his face. “pervert.” San was grinning with Jongho laughing beside him. “Give them back!” Yunho snatched at them only for San to move out of the way. “Why are you carrying around thongs for anyways?” San passed them to Jongho when Yunho stood, towering over both of them. Annoyed. And his eye twitching. If only San knew who those thongs belonged to….. “They’re not mine.” Yunho snatched them from Jongho and shoved them back into his bag.
“Oh….” Jongho bumped his shoulder with San. “someone has a girlfriend he hasn’t told us about.” That made San perk up. “Oh! Is that why you’ve been so…. loose lately? You’re getting laid?” Him and Jongho laughed again all in good tease. The two of them and Wooyoung were like three annoying younger brothers sometimes. “It’s none of your buisness.” Yunho picked his bag up and started walking towards the small little change room Mingi disappeared into just a minute ago.
“He’s deflecting. That means we know her.” Jongho grinned as San laughed. The change room door slammed shut behind him and Yunho groaned making Mingi look up at him where he was pulling on his shoes. “Who pissed you off?” That’s the thing with Mingi. He could read Yunho like an open book. Yunho rolled his eyes as he started changing his clothes, letting the ones the stylist put him in drop to the floor. “San and Jongho found a thong in my bag…”
Mingi stares at him and Yunho just stares right back. Then Mingi burst out laughing. “Damn…. Didn’t know you were into that.” Yunho glared at him. “They’re not mine. They’re Y/N’s.” That made Mingi stop laughing for exactly seventeen seconds before he started laughing again. “Oh my god…. You mean… you’re telling me that San found his sister’s thong in your bag and he doesn’t even know it? I told you this was going to blow up in your face!”
“First of all,” Yunho pulled his shirt on. “she’s his step sister. And secondly, she’s a grown woman.” Mingi had tears in his eyes at this point as he stood up. “Doesn’t change the fact if San realizes then you’re a dead man.” And he wasn’t exaggerating either. San was a little overprotective of his sisters. He proved that a couple months ago at his eldest sister’s wedding when he threatened her husband that if he makes her cry he’d make him disappear all while he was doing that, Yunho had you, his younger, beloved, the one he’s most protective over, sister bent over an old table behind his parents house. He’d kept your panties that day too.
It started new years. KQ threw this big party and all the member’s families were invited of course. It didn’t take long after you had gotten there for Yunho to have you riding him in Mingi’s studio on the third floor. It was supposed to of just been that one time. But then it kept happening. Now it’s been six months and you were both taking it steady behind San’s back. “He won’t find out.” Yunho sounded like he was more trying to convince himself than he was Mingi.
Mingi snorted. “You have pictures of her naked on your phone…. all it’s gonna take…”
“He’ll never see them.” Yunho clenched his jaw. Mingi was never of supposed to of seen them either. But then a month ago his best friend grabbed his phone while Yunho was sleeping, looking for some unposted unit comeback photos he knew Yunho had and instead found you. You in nothing but one of Yunho’s shirts pulled up over your exposed ass. You wet right out of the shower. You with Yunho buried inside you. That one had been a video.
So, yeah….. maybe Yunho was a bit of a pervert.
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The dorm was quiet other than the low hum of the central air as Yunho and Yeosang dragged inside. “I’m getting a shower.” Yunho wasted no time dropping his duffel off in his room and then crossing the hall to the bathroom. The steam from the shower enveloped around him as his muscles relaxed under the heat. That was the only thing that relaxed. His mind? Not so much. All he could think about was you. Your thong in your brother’s hands. San finding out…… he’s seen San pissed only a handful of times through the years. And honestly, Yunho wasn’t so sure it would be the fact he’s seeing you but more so that he was sneaking behind San’s back. And San hated being lied to.
His neck popped as he rolled his shoulders stepping back out the shower. Water clung to him as he grabbed a towel, drying in haste, leaving his hair to just air dry. He had no shame as he stepped out of the bathroom completely naked and walked out towards the kitchen. Yeosang blinked at him from where he sat on the couch. “You’re just…. dangling ….. very largely everywhere.”
Yunho rolled his eyes. This was nothing new and maybe it was one of the reasons why Yeosang also joked he has perverted quirks. It being just the two of them, Yunho was naked often. There was sometimes sweat stains left in his gaming chair from his ass. Yunho opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, the first swig making him close his eyes and let out a sigh. Then his eyes snapped open as the front door opened. The voices of San, Wooyoung and you trailing inside. He tried sprinting back to his room but as soon as he moved, Wooyoung’s ecstatic giggle stopped him in his tracks.
“Ahhh…. Yunho,” San grabbed you and spun you around, still oblivious that you have seen every detail of Yunho. No idea that you’ve had every inch that was on display buried inside you multiple times. “See! You fucking pervert.”
Wooyoung was ogling. “I say let him keep it out.” He grinned at Yunho as he moved to sit beside Yeosang and you shoved away from San. “Will you move? I’ve seen a dick before.” San gaped at you as Wooyoung laughed and Yunho’s ears started turning red. “Well you’re not gonna see that one.” San grabbed the throw pillow Yeosang had in his lap and chunked it at Yunho. “Cover that thing up!”
Yunho clutched the pillow and held it against himself. His dick barely staying hidden behind the small material. He turned around to get to his room and get dressed but your voice stopped him. “Nice ass.” He could practically hear the smirk in your voice. He was sure you were staring at the fading scratches you left there from a few nights ago. You loved his ass. Loved gripping it when he rutted inside you like he was trying to empty his soul out.
“Y/N!”
Yunho could feel the tips of his ears burning as he disappeared into his bedroom. He was gonna make you pay for that. He was already thinking of many scenarios to make you pay that would have San ready to commit murder. The thought alone made Yunho snort as he tossed the throw pillow he was still holding onto his gaming chair. He casted a glance at his reflection in the mirror on his wall. His roots were starting to grow out in the blonde but he was holding out dying it since you loved it too much. He was realizing he was starting to do a lot because you liked something. But you also did a lot because he liked something. And Yunho was starting to think that maybe whatever this was the two of you had wasn’t so casual anymore…. that it wasn’t exactly steady.
“Knock, knock.”
“Jesus!” Yunho jumped, turning around and glaring at you. “What the hell are you doing?” Because he was still naked and San, Wooyoung and Yeosang…..
“Relax.” You waved him off as you walked into his room, shutting the door behind you. “They all went to get food.” You dragged your gaze down his body, eyes lingering on his shoulders, noticing how much broader he’s gotten lately. Then your gaze dropped lower to where his dick hung heavy. “San said he found some girl’s thong in your bag today….” You started moving closer. “I think he’s convinced you’re hiding a girlfriend.”
Girlfriend. That hit hard. Neither of you had put labels on it yet. On what you were. But Yunho certainly wouldn’t deny it if that’s what you wanted. “San’s nosy.” He watched you trace a hand up his abdomen, then back down and his dick twitched a little in anticipation. At just the thought of having you while your brother was out getting food and would be back any moment. It was a rush. And Yunho could be an adrenaline junky.
You dropped to your knees in an almost haste, now barely eye level with his dick and Yunho let you take over for a minute. Just stood there and watched. Stood there and groaned when you gripped him, bringing his hardening dick to your mouth. Stood there and watched as your lips stretched wide around him and he let you take your time to feed his length deeper into your mouth. The tip bumped the back of your throat with every slow thrust, spit dripping down your chin and onto your shirt.
He pulled out just enough to rest the heavy length on your tongue, tapping the wet tip against it a few times before dragging it across your flushed cheek, leaving a shiny trail of spit and precum. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. Both hands gripped the sides of your head and he shoved himself back in, hips snapping forward until your nose pressed against his pelvis. The sudden force made your eyes water, but your fingers dug into his ass, nails biting deep enough to leave fresh red marks across the skin and Yunho groaned at the sting, loving that slight little tinge of pain as he started fucking your throat with steady strokes that made wet, obscene sounds fill the room.
“Look at you,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Gagging on my dick like a desperate little slut. Bet you’re dripping just from having your throat used, aren’t you? Gonna come just from me fucking your face?” You moaned around him, the vibration making his hips stutter and he held you there a moment longer, buried to the hilt before pulling out completely letting strings of spit connect your now swollen lips to his glistening dick. “Strip,” he ordered, tracing his thumb on your bottom lip before you stood.
You snatched your shirt off first. The fabric dropping to the floor. Your pants were next. The jeans sticking at your wet thighs from how soaked sucking his dick made you. When you moved to reach to drag your panties off, he stopped you. “Leave those on.” He hauled you up and onto the bed, positioning you on all fours. You expected him to yank the black lace aside and sink into you, but instead he stayed behind you, one hand smoothing over the curve of your ass. “Nice ass?” he repeated, echoing your earlier words with a dark chuckle. “Saying that in front of your brother? Brats like that should be punished.”
Yunho wrapped his fingers around his dick and dragged the tip slowly over the thin black lace covering your pussy, pressing the fabric against your soaked folds. He stroked himself like that for a long second, letting the tip glide back and forth through your wetness, the lace growing darker and stickier with every pass as your hips started to twitch, trying to push back, but he only teased, never sinking inside you. He pulled back long enough to reach over to the bedside table. You heard the soft click of his phone unlocking. The camera light coming on, the lens aimed straight at where his dick was rubbing again at you.
“Please,” you whispered, voice hoarse and growing desperate. “Fuck me…. Yunho… I need it.”
He hummed in amusement. “Oh, I will.” The recording stayed on a few more seconds, capturing every desperate wiggle of your hips before he locked the screen and tossed the phone aside. Then he dragged one finger up through your slick, gathering the mess and grabbing your hair, pulling your head back, bringing it to your lips. “Suck.” You opened obediently, tongue curling around his soaked finger and cleaned it. Yunho’s thoughts drifted for a second….. yeah, San and Jongho might’ve been onto something when they joked he was a pervert.
He let your hair go, pulling his finger back and yanked your hips up. His dick, shiny with your juices, pressed against your entrance and he thrusted into you, bottoming out with a groan as you cried out. He bit his bottom lip as he thrusted slow and deep, coating himself with you before pulling back out. His tip dragged upward, circling your ass, smearing slick over the rim as he gave you one heartbeat to adjust before sinking in, inch by inch, until his hips met your ass and a low groan left him at the tight heat.
He stayed still for a few seconds, knowing the others could walk in any moment but he was starting not care, he wanted to give you time to breathe. To adjust. Until you started pushing back against him, voice shaky but defiant. “I know you can go harder than that.”
“Brat,” he growled, the word vibrating through his chest as his hands clamped on your hips and he started pounding into your ass without another second to breathe, the slap of skin loud and filthy. One hand slid beneath you, two fingers pushing into your dripping pussy while his dick kept driving into your ass, the dual stretch of his fingers fucking you and his dick buried in your ass making your vision blur and for pleasure to coil tight and fast until it snapped. Your scream muffled against the sheets as your whole body shook through the orgasm, squirting on his fingers and his bed sheets.
He didn’t stop though. Yunho just fucked you through it, fingers still working inside you until his rhythm faltered and he buried himself deep, dick pulsing as he filled your ass. He stayed inside you for a minute, breathing hard, before pulling out and letting his cum start to trickle down your ass as he dropped to his knees behind you, tongue dragging over your used hole, licking up the mess he’d left before moving lower to lap at your soaked pussy. The wet sounds of his mouth were almost as obscene as him fucking you had been.
When he finally pulled back, he hooked his fingers into the ruined black lace of your panties and peeled them down your legs. “Mine now,” he said, voice still rough, and tucked the damp fabric into his pocket.
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Yunho had just finished pulling on his favorite pair of grey sweatpants when he heard the others get back. Yeosang said something about never going anywhere with Woo and San again. Their laughter echoed down the hall and into his bedroom. It had only been about fifteen minutes since Yunho had you a mess on his bed. Now you were in the living room, dress. Missing your panties. And his bed was still a mess.
“Hey….” San peaked into his room to let him know they got pizza and immediately froze. He furrowed his brows, sniffed the air and frowned. “It smells like sex in here.” Yunho blinked at him, clearing his throat and lied straight through his teeth. “I jerked off.”
San had a look of pure disgust as he retreated from his door. “Oh my god, Yunho! While my sister was in the living room? I was right. You are a pervert.”
Yunho didn’t even try to deny it this time.
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A week later and Yunho was covered in sweat after Ateez set for BST. The London heat almost suffocating. But that heat didn’t compare to you also being there. You had begged San to let you come which he caved instantly. And Yunho was holding on by a thread.
You wore a white tank top that let him see the slightest sweat glistening on your shoulders. The shorts you had on barely covered your ass and he had to stop himself multiple times from just outright staring. And now? Now you were walking towards him, handing him another bottle of water. “You’re like…” you dragged your eyes down him, staring at his arms on display. “sweating everywhere.”
Yunho uncapped the bottle of water you gave him. “Trust me, I know.” He tipped his head back and your gaze lingered at his throat and the way his adams apple bobbed as he drank. “Mhm…” you stepped a little closer. Just enough for only he could hear. “I’m gonna do things to you with my tongue that your good lord never wanted to bear witness.” Yunho choked. Literally. He shouldn’t be shocked. Because he may be a pervert according to the guys. But you were just as much of a freak.
The water sputtered out of Yunho’s mouth as you laughed and patted at his back. The commotion had San’s attention now. He narrowed his eyes at the two of you then he froze. Blue. Lace. Strings peaking out the back of the top of your shorts as you bent over to grab a dry towel to hand to Yunho. No. No. Absolutely not. It clicked fast after that. Blue lace thongs. You for months now wanting to travel with them when you were allowed. Always going with San over to Yeosang and Yunho’s. Always at their dance practices. The lingering looks he’d catch Yunho give you but ignored because he just thought Yunho thought you were hot. A few of the guys did. But the other guys didn’t carry around your thong…..
“YUNHO, YOU ASSHOLE!”
Everyone froze then. Yunho finally stopped coughing. You and him stared at San as Mingi seemed to put two and two together and pulled his phone to record. “Here we go.”
San marched over, still a little breathless from performing. He seemed more shocked than angry. Ok. Maybe he looked a little angry. “You’re fucking my sister.” The accusation landed like a slap and neither you or Yunho denied it as chaos erupted around you.
“What?” Hongjoong looked exasperated.
“That explains a lot.” Seonghwa snorted as he grabbed himself a bottle of water as Wooyoung laughed. Loud. Tears forming in his eyes as a cackle tore from him. Yeosang didn’t look surprised at all. Being Yunho’s roommate, he’s already heard things he wish he hadn’t.
“Wait….” Jongho looked like he won the lottery. “THE THONGS WERE HERS?” He started laughing, pointing at San. “Man…. You picked up your sister’s used underwear! Used by Yunho!” He made the situation so much worse instantly because now San did look mad. Really mad. Disgusted and mad.
“We’re not fucking.” You argued, then slipped your hand into Yunho’s sweaty one. “We’re dating.”
“This is fucking gold.” Mingi was enjoying this way too much.
Yunho gripped your hand back. Clearing his throat and looking down at San. “Sorry…. we didn’t know how to tell you.” He had to play like he wasn’t absolutely losing his mind over you saying that you were dating.
For now, Yunho was just thankful San had no idea what perverted evidence he had with you on his phone.
Pairing: Hit Man Seungmin x reader
Word Count: 7.2K
Genre: Dark Romance
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities, Violence, Death
Chan has given him an assignment find the guy the crossed him and deal with it. The fact that you are potential leverage puts you on a path you don't even know you are walking.
The room was dim, smelling like smoke, expensive liquor, and something metallic lingering underneath it all something sharper that would cling to the back of the throat and remain for several hours. Seungmin leaned against the edge of the table, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, revealing his heavily tattooed forearms, his expression calm in a way that didn’t quite match the tension humming through the space. Around him, the others shifted. Han was impatient, Hynjun amused, and Felix fidgeted, but they were all waiting for orders. At the head of the table, Chan flipped a lighter open and shut. Open, shut, open, shut in an irritating pattern of unsaid anger.
Click... Click... Click.
It was the only sound for a moment in a room of eight equally useful but dangerous men. “He took more than he should have.” Chan didn't raise his voice; he never needed to.
A photo slid across the table, stopping just short of Seungmin’s hand. A face he didn’t recognise, but judging from the shifting feeling of the room, some of the others did. It was nothing more than a grainy surveillance still caught mid-step, hood half up, eyes darting sideways like he already knew he was being watched. Seungmin glanced down at it, only briefly; he didn’t need longer than that. “What’s the damage?” he enquired casually.
“Enough,” Chan replied coolly. The lighter snapped shut this time; it was final and somehow louder. “He dipped into something that didn’t belong to him. Product is missing, money is gone, and now he is pretending he didn’t know where it went.”
A quiet scoff came from Changbin, who was leaning against a wall across the room. “Classic.”
Chan ignored it, his eyes still locked on Seungmin. “I don’t like being played for a fucking fool.”
Seungmin hummed softly, almost thoughtful, picked up the photo and inspected it, tilting it slightly under the light. “Does he have it? Or did he move it?”
“Does it matter?” Chan narrowed his eyes slightly, the simmering anger just below the surface.
Seungmin’s lips curved upwards faintly. “Not particularly. How did you want it handled?”
Chan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Here’s how this goes. You find him. You talk to him. Give him a chance to fix his mistake.” His gaze sharpened. “People make bad decisions. Sometimes they just need some... encouragement to correct them.”
Felix chuckled under his breath; they all knew what that meant.
Seungmin set the photo back down, aligning it neatly with the edge of the table like it actually mattered. “And if he doesn’t?” He raised one eyebrow, his voice smooth.
Chan met his eyes. “Then he’s not useful anymore.” Silence settled for a second; it was simple, heavy, and final.
Seungmin nodded once, as though he’d just been given directions to pick up the groceries. “Understood.”
Chan, however, didn’t lean back yet. “There’s one more thing, Seung.”
That got Seungmin’s attention, not visibly, not to anyone who didn’t know him, but there was a slight pause before he reached for the glass of whiskey beside him. “Yeah?”
Chan tapped the photo on the table once. “He’s been sloppy. Nervous. Which meant he had something to lose.” He slid out a new photo, and this one wasn’t grainy; it was clear as day. A woman caught mid-laugh, sunlight catching her pretty face, completely unaware.
Seungmin’s fingers stilled, if only for a second before they curled around the edge of the paper to lift it. “…a girlfriend?”
“Yeah,” Chan smirked. “Lives alone. No record, no involvement, totally clean.”
“Which makes her excellent leverage,” Minho muttered.
Seungmin didn’t look up, his eyes still on the image, his face still blank except for something that flickered in his eyes for only a moment; it wasn’t surprise or concern, it was something quieter and more dangerous.
Chan watched him carefully, decoding Seungmin’s reaction. “You don’t touch her unless you have to,” he smirked. “We aren’t making unnecessary messes. But if he won’t talk…” A nonchalant shrug. “People tend to get more cooperative when they were reminded what they could lose.”
The mood in the room shifted to something far more sinister, but Seungmin just studied the photo a moment longer. Her smile, the way she looked so normal, so soft, completely out of place in his world. “…I won’t need to,” he announced finally.
Chan raised an eyebrow. “No?”
Seungmin set the photo down beside the first, aligning them together now intentionally neat. “He doesn’t look like the type who could hold out,” he continued calmly. “People like him panic. They fold fast when they realize no one is coming to help them.” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll talk to him.”
Chan leaned back at last and looked satisfied. “That’s what I like to hear.” He gestured vaguely. “Get it done clean. I don’t want noise, I don’t want attention, and I definitely don’t want him thinking he could disappear with what’s mine.”
Seungmin nodded, taking a step away from the table. “Give me a couple of weeks.”
“Take all the time you like,” Chan replied, satisfied the problem would be dealt with. “Just make sure it’s finished.”
As the meeting dissolved into quieter conversations and low laughter, Seungmin lingered on the outer fringe, near the doorway, the two photos now tucked neatly into the inside pocket of his jacket. He pulled them out again when he was alone in the hall, scanned the problem, then the potential solution. His thumb brushed lightly over the edge of the image, thoughtful. “…Leverage,” he murmured under his breath; it wasn’t agreement, it was curiosity. A slow, deliberate kind of interest settled in his chest and refused to move.
He slid both photos back into place, straightening his jacket, his control and composure snapping back into place. By the time he stepped out into the night, there was already a plan partially formed—not just for the job but for everything he would make sure came after. The smile that crossed his face lingered this time, darker than the ones that had come before it. He enjoyed his job when Chan gave him freedom, and he was going to take full advantage.
The first time you noticed him, he was arguing softly with a vending machine. Not frustrated, just… persistent. You were standing a few steps away, watching as he pressed the same button again, then glanced down at the display like he was trying to reason with it. “It’s eaten my money twice now,” he sighed, almost to himself.
You huffed out a small laugh before you could stop yourself, which made him turn his head, and your eyes met. For a second, he looked surprised as though he didn’t expect anyone to be in earshot, only to smile at you. “Do you think it’s a lost cause?” he asked, pursing his lips and gesturing to the machine with his free hand.
You stepped closer, tapping the side of the machine lightly. “You have to hit it a bit harder than that.”
His brow lifted, amused. “Violence?”
“Encouragement,” you corrected softly.
He watched you for a second, then followed your lead, knocking the side with just enough force. There was a clunk; his drink dropped with a measured thud.
You grinned. “See?”
He let out a quiet laugh, softer than you expected. “I stand corrected.”
It started there, a small, forgettable interaction.
You saw him again a couple of days later, just outside your building. He was leaning against the railing, phone in hand, like he was waiting for something or maybe someone. When you approached, his attention shifted immediately.
“Hey,” he said, like he already knew you. “Vending machine expert.”
You rolled your eyes a little. “Did it betray you again?”
“Not yet,” he joked easily. “But I’m staying cautious.”
You smiled despite yourself at how easy it felt to talk to him.
“I’m Seungmin,” he added, letting you introduce yourself and shake his outstretched hand. He repeated your name quietly, the same way he had before, like he was filing it somewhere important.
After that, he started to appear more often not constantly or strangely, just enough for you to notice him. Outside the building when you left to go to work, at the store when you were food shopping, and once, at the bus stop when your boyfriend cancelled on you last minute, claiming he was “busy” again.
Seungmin didn’t pry when you checked your phone, a sigh falling from your lips.
“Plans fall through?” he asked lightly, looking at you with a friendly smile.
“Something like that.” You frowned at your phone, the short, annoyed text from Minjun.
He nodded, not pushing you for anything more. “Want company anyway?”
You hesitated for a second; Minjun had cancelled on you at the last minute, and you had no other plans. “Yeah, that sounds good,” you admitted.
"Grab a coffee then?" He grinned, gesturing down the street, and you nodded, walking beside him in comfortable quiet.
It became a pattern that you didn’t notice straight away. The more your boyfriend pulled away, the more Seungmin seemed to fill the space without trying. One morning he showed up with coffee because you had once complained about how bad the café down the street was. “You didn’t have to do that,” you told him, smiling gratefully.
“I know,” he said, easily shrugging. “I wanted to.”
There was something steady about Seungmin, like he wasn’t going to just disappear. Minjun eventually noticed.
“Who is he?” Minjun barked the question, coming sharper than you expected, cutting through your phone call one evening.
You blinked, pulling the device away from your ear. “What?”
“That guy,” he pushed. “The one you keep mentioning. Seungmin.” There was an edge to his voice that you didn’t like he was accusing you of something suspicious.
You frowned. “He’s just someone new who moved into my building.”
“‘Just someone’ you’re suddenly seeing all the time?” Minjun snapped harshly.
“I’m not ‘seeing’ him,” you snapped, irritation flaring. “We run into each other.”
“Yeah?” he scoffed. “Or is he just always around?”
The implication sat heavy between you, another veiled accusation as though having a friend that happened to be a guy was something you had done wrong. “You’re being ridiculous, Minjun.”
“Am I?” His tone sharpened. “Because you didn’t even tell me about him until now.”
“Because it’s not a big deal!” You huffed, trying not to sound defensive, trying to diffuse his anger.
Minjun stayed silent for a moment. “Stay away from him.”
Your grip on the phone tightened. “You don’t get to tell me who I can talk to,” you said as softly as you could manage.
“I’m trying to keep you safe.” He insisted as if he was your knight in shining armor, not the guy who had ditched you five times in the last few weeks.
The words landed wrong, making you see red. “From what?” you snapped. “A guy who’s actually nice to me?”
The second it left your mouth, you felt the shift. “…so that’s what this is,” he said quietly.
You closed your eyes, already regretting it. “That’s not what I meant. Minjun, please.”
“Sure,” he muttered. “Sounds like you’ve already replaced me.”
“I haven’t, I...” You started to argue, but the line went dead.
The next time you saw Seungmin for coffee, you were more withdrawn, and he noticed immediately. “Something wrong?”
You hesitated, not wanting to look like you were complaining. “My boyfriend’s just… being difficult.”
Seungmin tilted his head slightly. “Difficult how?”
“He doesn’t like that I’ve been spending time with you,” you admitted, watching his reaction carefully.
He let out an almost amused exhale and shook his head. “I haven’t done anything.”
“I know,” you replied quickly. “It’s not you, Seungmin. Minjun’s just… paranoid lately, and I don’t understand why.”
Seungmin’s gaze lingered on you a second longer than usual. “People get like that when they had something to hide,” he said softly.
You blinked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged, like it was nothing. “Just a thought.” You nodded and sipped your coffee thoughtfully.
The arguments with Minjun got worse after that; everything set him off, and a whole new and unknown side appeared for you to see.
“You’re choosing him over me? Are you that fucking easy?” Minjun shouted angrily, pacing around your apartment. You hadn't even said Seungmin's name; the anger just exploded out of thin air.
“I’m not choosing anyone,” you insisted as calmly as you could, shrinking in on yourself on the couch. “I’m asking you to stop acting like I’ve done something wrong!”
“Have you let him fuck you?” he screamed, stopping to face you, his face red and eyes wide. “Just another slut looking for dick wherever she can."
“Minjun. Please, he's just a friend, I would never do that," you promised, trying to reassure him.
“Fucking lying whore," he began to rant furiously. "Bet he fucks you after I leave, bet you let him fuck you raw like the filthy bitch you are." His breathing was getting heavier as he continued to yell in your face, his pointed finger almost touching your face. The words hit like a slap, and you couldn't speak. Minjun exhaled sharply as you moved away from him. “You don’t know him,” he said, his voice dangerously low now. “You don’t know what he wants. But I fucking do.”
Your mind flickered to Seungmin’s quiet smiles, his steady presence, the way he never pushed too far. “I think I do,” you whispered, not realizing it was a mistake until the second it left your mouth.
Minjun launched at you a split second later, forcing your back to smack against the wall and knocking the breath out of you. His fingers closed around your neck and pressed hard as you gasped. “Maybe I should mark what's mine, huh?" he muttered darkly, ignoring your attempt to get loose from his grip, your face turning red and your head starting to swim from lack of oxygen. "I bet he will love seeing what I leave behind for him."
Tears were pouring from your eyes as he spoke, each threat creating cracks in the picture of the man you thought he was. Minjun had never yelled at you like this, never threatened you, never done this, and as his hand finally released your neck, you slid to your knees, gasping desperately for air.
"You're fucking pathetic, just another gash who wants more than she deserves." His voice dripped with venom as his hand collided with the side of your face, the pain making you cry out. Minjun just looked down at you, then rolled his eyes and walked towards your door, the slam of it closing behind him echoing off your walls.
You crawled desperately towards the door, locking it and pulling the security chain so that he couldn't get back in, even if he tried his key. Bile rose in your throat, and your face was beginning to swell. This was not how you thought your day together would end.
Seungmin had been watching the front of the building since your boyfriend had arrived, waiting to see what would happen, and perhaps even tail you both when you left for dinner. But when his target left the building alone, irate and muttering to himself, his curiosity was piqued. Deciding to wait until dusk, Seungmin made a move.
You hadn’t answered his message, so Seungmin took the stairs down the two levels to your door. He knocked firmly and waited, hearing slow muffled sounds from the other side of the door, your feet moving, the sound of you pressing against the solid wood. "It's Seungmin," he called innocently as though he didn’t already know you were alone.
You made a small surprised sound, then he heard the sound of the chain being released, the lock on the doorknob clicking, and the deadbolt being unlocked; that was three separate locks. His mind started working overtime; something had happened between you and his target.
You opened the door slowly, peeking out of the crack to see Seungmin looking concerned, his fingers fidgeting with the cuff of the soft blue hoodie he was wearing. "Hi, um, I'm not feeling that great, Seungmin." You tried to sound like you were okay, even though your hand shook where it touched the door.
He frowned lightly. "I already know you aren't; your eyes are red and puffy. You had another fight."
Your face crumpled as you realized he knew that it was worse than before. "It's different this time," you whispered.
Seungmin's face softened as he stepped closer to the door but didn't touch it. "If something has happened, I can help get you somewhere safe, call the police, anything."
A sob fell from your lips as you opened the door a little wider, letting him see the bruising that was already blooming on the side of your face. Seungmin's sharp intake of breath was all you needed to confirm what you had tried to pretend wasn’t there; it was obvious for the whole world to see. Letting him into your apartment in a strangely stiff way, Seungmin instantly took over and guided you gently towards your dining table, pulling a chair for you to sit in before going to your freezer to get you some ice that he wrapped in a kitchen towel.
"Has he done this before?" he asked gently, holding the ice pack to your cheek, holding back the fury he felt when you hissed quietly in discomfort.
"No," you sniffled. "He's been stressed about his job, and his friends and then he got mad that I mentioned you."
Seungmin sighed. "That doesn't make it okay; you have to know that this is not alright."
"I know, Seungmin," you murmured, exhausted and now feeling the distinct sting of shame that you had let him see you in this state. "I will end it with him."
Seungmin looked satisfied with your words, but he stiffened when your phone rang and Minjun's name appeared on the screen. "You need to pack things for at least tonight; you should stay in my apartment until it is safe for you to be here."
You shook your head slowly. "I can't impose like that; I can't involve you more than you are."
Seungmin placed his hand over yours and squeezed it softly. "I am already involved, and I won't let him hurt you again." His voice was full of conviction, and you wanted to believe him so badly.
"What if he comes after you? I don't want you to get hurt because you are trying to help me." You sighed dejectedly, not moving your hand away from his.
"I can look after myself, and he doesn't know where I live, so..." Seungmin's voice trailed off as the corner of his lip quirked up. "It's also just for tonight until we can get you somewhere safe tomorrow."
You studied him for a long moment; his face was so full of sympathy and concern, and he had only ever been exceptionally kind and friendly to you. "Alright, Seungmin. But just tonight." You agreed cautiously.
Seungmin followed you to your room, helping you collect your essentials in a duffle bag which he carried to your front door while you picked up your phone and keys.
"I might not seem like it right now, but it will be okay. I promise," he said as you locked up your apartment. Seungmin guided you up the two flights of stairs to his floor, his hand hovering behind your lower back, only touching you when your movements faltered.
“He thinks you’re a bad person,” you admitted in the empty hallway as Seungmin walked beside you.
Seungmin’s expression didn’t change. “Do you?” Like it was the easiest question in the world.
You shook your head immediately. “No.”
Something shifted in his eyes at that, like that was exactly what he wanted you to say. “Then that’s what matters,” he said.
You studied him for a second, something warm settling in your chest despite everything. “Why are you so nice to me?” you asked quietly.
He paused to think just long enough to feel intentional. “Because you deserved someone who would always treat you well.”
Your breath caught slightly. There was something in the way Seungmin said it, something larger than the words themselves, but before you could question it, he stepped up to his door and unlocked it with a faint click. He gestured for you to step inside, so you did. Seungmin's apartment was larger than yours, but it was simple, functional, and somehow still felt like it belonged to him. He showed you around quickly before taking you to the guest room, placing your bag on the bed and turning to look at you again, taking his time to really take in how you looked.
"I'll find you some towels, but I think you need to get some rest," he kept his voice light, "we can talk about everything else a bit later."
You nodded; all the emotion and fear had left you drained, and now that you were somewhere Minjun couldn't find you, you suddenly felt incredibly tired.
"Thank you, Seungmin." You smiled softly before he turned to leave.
Outside the door, Seungmin lingered for a moment, listening to the faint sound of the zip on your bag and the rustle of clothing. Then his expression shifted; the softness that he had around you left, not entirely, but enough to reveal the focus underneath. Everything was exactly as he wanted it to be: your relationship with your shitty boyfriend was over, the fucker was paranoid, unstable, and had managed to fuck everything up on his own. Seungmin slipped his hands into his pockets, already turning toward his bedroom, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
You didn’t know how much time had passed when Seungmin knocked carefully on the bedroom door, waiting for you to allow him into the guest room of his own apartment. Your heart rate spiked; an instant wave of dread crashed over you until you remembered where you were.
"I thought we should order some food; you need a good meal to help start the healing process properly," Seungmin suggested, his voice intentionally softer than normal to keep you comfortable, his eyes concerned that your face had paled.
You blinked a few times before you answered. "That's probably a good idea; I can buy since you are letting me stay," you breathed out slowly in an attempt to calm yourself.
Seungmin huffed a small laugh. "That's not happening; you're my guest." He pulled his phone from his pocket and gestured for you to follow him out to the other room. "Do you have a preference? We can get whatever you want, except those terrible burgers from the place near the square that we went to; they were terrible and expensive."
You followed, listening to him as he slipped his hoodie off and hung it over the back of the chair, your eyes widening in awe as you saw his arms for the first time since you had met him. "How did I not ever notice you had tattoos?" you blurted, possibly a little too loudly for his smallish kitchen dining area.
Seungmin turned back to look at you, a lopsided grin on his face. "I offer you dinner, and you start checking me out? Scandalous." Your face flushed, and you spluttered before his laugh interrupted you. "I'm joking, it was a joke."
"We can just get pizza," you said quickly, covering your face, embarrassed. "It just surprised me that I never noticed before; that's all."
Seungmin's laugh continued, "I was teasing, I promise." You felt yourself relax, smiling back at him as he opened the app to order the pizza. "I'm thinking pepperoni, Italian sausage, maybe margarita?"
You sighed, smiling despite yourself. "Pick whatever; I eat all pizza, no pizza discrimination here."
Seungmin continued tapping at the screen as he walked to the fridge and opened it, grabbing two bottles of beer and guiding you towards the couch. "It's probably not super advisable, but I think you probably need at least one drink after the day you have had." He slid the bottle towards you on the coffee table, making sure you were on the opposite end to him, a suitable distance between you both.
"Do they have meanings?" You asked shyly looking at the black wolf on the inside of his left arm.
Seumgmin hummed sipping his drink and looking down at the artwork on his skin. "Some do..." His eyes shifted to look at you as you continued to map each one with your eyes.
You nodded "I like that one," you motioned to the black and red rose on his inner wrist.
"There are others that are still hidden, if you want to see those." He joked but still moved his arms to let you look further "Maybe one day I'll tell you about them." He grinned as your face flushed.
One beer turned into two before the pizza arrived, then turned into three, which made you relax into the soft couch cushions. Seungmin had kept talking to you as though the bruise on your cheek wasn't turning a cloudy mess of red and purple, as though it was just the two of you the way it had been when you had coffee or lunch. You found yourself smiling at him softly, the kindness of Seungmin compared to how you had been treated lately.
“You were staring again,” Seungmin teased, his voice lower than before. His cheeks held the faint flush from the alcohol, mouth curved in that half-smile he only wore when he was comfortable.
"So were you." You wet your lips, meeting his eyes.
The silence stretched between you for only a few moments, but it could have been an hour with the way the world seemed to fall away around you. A heartbeat later, his hand was on the back of your neck, pulling you into him. The kiss was impulsive yet soft, his lips gliding against yours, the faint taste of beer spiking as his tongue slipped between yours, intensity growing between you. You let him pull you into his lap, straddling his thighs and weaving your fingers into his hair; a low groan emanated from somewhere deep in his chest that made heat flood through you.
Seungmin's hands, which had been gripping your hips, loosened, moving to slide his hands under your shirt, pushing the fabric up until you allowed him to pull it over your head. "Fuck, how are you so beautiful?" he murmured against your skin while you dropped your top on the carpet.
"M'not," you mumbled against his lips, finding yourself grinding down against his lap.
"You are," He breathed, effortlessly picking you up and laying you back on the couch, pulling his shirt over his head so you finally got a good look at him. His tattooed forearms were only the beginning of the designs moving along his smooth skin all the way to his chest, which was emblazoned with a large compass with a crown that you could no longer focus on when his fingers began to tug your sweatpants down your legs.
"Seungmin, we..." Your words cut off as he settled himself between your thighs; his large hands sliding up and down your skin, making it feel like you were on fire. The look in his eyes did nothing to make you want to stop; the burning lust they held made you feel desired as no one had ever made you feel before, including Minjun. On his knees on the carpet between your now spread-open legs felt right, and you bit your tongue to stop it from betraying you.
He smiled slowly, looking more dangerous as he leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to your exposed clit "Need to make you forget him, need you to only think about me." He gave the sensitive pearl a soft kitten lick, which made you shudder. "Can you do that for me, princess?" Again, his tongue reached out, tasting you, but this time he licked you slowly from entrance to clit before he began to feast on your wet pussy.
"Seungmin", you gasped, your hand flying to his hair, tangling in the deep ebony locks "Seungmin".
You felt him smile against you as he began to work you faster, laving your clit in circles and figure eights until you started to writhe on the plush couch. He pulled away from you, ignoring the small whine that you didn't even realize had come from you. The lazy smirk and blown-out pupils that graced his beautiful face should have told you everything, but you were too dazed to notice.
"No, no, no, please", you begged as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.
"Shhh, I got you", Seungmin whispered, smugly moving to hover over you before sheathing himself inside you with one smooth thrust. Making you throw your head back against the cushions.
"Fuck. Seungmin. Fuck" you cried, your walls clamping around him desperately as your orgasm washed over you.
"Good girl, now let me help you forget", he murmured, slowly rolling his hips against yours. The slow drag of his cock against your swollen walls felt like heaven, and when he hitched your right leg up around his waist to push himself deeper inside you, your whole world shattered.
"Seungmin, Seungmin, Seungmin" You breathed his name like a prayer as he fucked you into the couch, not slowing until a second orgasm washed over you, making your body twist and shake beneath him. You barely registered when he filled you with thick ropes of his seed, too dazed with pleasure to care that you had let him fuck you raw.
Seungmin pulled out of you carefully before he moved to pick you up, carrying you to his bed before laying you down with gentleness.
You woke slowly, blinking into the unfamiliar soft light filtering through Seungmin’s bedroom curtains. Your body ached in ways both pleasant and sore; the bruises on your cheek throbbed less now, dulled by sleep and the warmth of the blankets. For a moment, you lay still, unsure if you were allowed this feeling, safe, wanted, untouched by last night’s ghosts.
A slow, steady breath beside you reminded you you were not alone. Seungmin’s arm was draped across your waist, his hand splayed protectively over your stomach. His tattoos were a stark contrast to the pale linen, and for a minute all you could do was study the intricate lines winding around his wrist, the veins beneath his skin, the quiet strength of him. He stirred, blinking awake, and when his gaze found yours, there was that soft half-smile you were starting to crave.
“Morning,” he said, his voice low and rough with sleep.
You tried to smile, but it faltered as memories returned Minjun’s rage, the bruises, the way you’d been so desperate for kindness you’d let yourself fall into Seungmin’s arms. He saw it, of course. He shifted closer, pressing his lips gently to your forehead. “You’re safe here,” he murmured.
You nodded, swallowing back tears. “I know.”
The silence stretched, but it was comfortable, and when you finally sat up, Seungmin followed. He touched your cheek with careful fingers, inspecting the bruising with a frown. “You should eat,” he said softly. “And then…if you want, I’ll help you figure out what comes next.”
The bar was nearly empty, the air thick with stale smoke and anticipation. Minjun sat alone at a corner table, trying and failing to appear unbothered, his eyes glued to the door. When Seungmin entered, he moved with quiet certainty, his presence making the shadows seem to recoil. Unbuttoning his jacket to clearly display the Glock in the holster he was wearing, Seungmin slid into the seat across from Minjun, his gaze cold and unwavering. He set his phone down on the table, tapping the screen once, but didn’t look away.
“Let’s not waste time,” Seungmin started, his voice calm but edged with steel. “You took from Chan. Product, cash. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Minjun’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, paling noticeably. “I don’t know what you”
“Don’t insult me,” Seungmin interrupted, his tone chilling. “You think Chan didn’t notice? You think he wouldn’t put a price on your head?”
Minjun went silent, his bravado failing. Seungmin leaned in, lowering his voice so only Minjun could hear. “You crossed the wrong people. I’m not here to negotiate. You’re going to pay back every cent, and then some. If you don’t, you disappear.”
Beads of sweat formed on Minjun’s brow. He tried to hold Seungmin’s gaze but failed, shifting in his seat, hands trembling. “I just… I just need a little more time.”
Seungmin’s lips curled into a slight, humorless smile. “Time’s run out. You have until tomorrow night. After that, I stop being polite.”
Minjun’s face drained of color. He opened his mouth to protest, but Seungmin held up a hand.
“One more thing,” Seungmin said, his voice dropping even lower. “The woman you beat to show what a big deal you are.”
Confusion flickered across Minjun’s face, quickly replaced by dread as Seungmin’s meaning settled in.
“I know everything,” Seungmin continued, his eyes hard. “And you need to understand. She’s mine now, and I would kill you slowly if you so much as breathed in her vicinity.”
He stood, letting the full weight of his threat linger in the air. “Don’t test me, Minjun. This was your only warning.”
Seungmin turned and walked out, leaving Minjun hunched and shaking in the corner, the threat echoing louder than any shout.
You had completely gone back on your insistence that you would only stay a single night with Seungmin. He had made you feel so safe but also gave you the space to think, leaving only when he absolutely had to go to work and returning as soon as he was able. It had given you time to realize that your relationship with Minjun had died the moment he had laid his hands on you and that Seungmin was now your safety blanket, even though it was slightly insane to allow yourself to fall into something with him when you had been in a long-term relationship only days ago. Your thoughts were often interrupted when Seungmin returned home and proceeded to take you against every surface in the apartment, leaving a dull but wondrous ache in your body.
So when you finally managed to set foot in the bathroom, you took advantage, turned on the shower and let it run while you stripped off, slowly dropping your clothes in a pile on the floor. Steam fogged up the bathroom mirror, curling around the edges of the glass as water beat steadily on the tile. You stood beneath the spray, eyes closed, letting the warmth ease away the last aches of anxiety. Suddenly, the door opened, and Seungmin stepped in behind you, his chest pressed to your back, and wrapped his arms around you, hands splaying across your stomach. You could feel the strength in his hold, but he was gentle; his lips pressed softly to the side of your neck, lingering there, letting his breath mingle with the steam. His hands started to move, slow and careful, tracing the lines of your hips, up to your ribs, down again to your thighs.
You turned to face him, water streaming between you. He brushed a strand of wet hair from your cheek, searching your eyes. He kissed you, deeper now, his tongue sliding against yours with unhurried patience. The world narrowed to the heat between your bodies, the slickness of your skin, and the steady rush of water. Seungmin’s hand cupped your jaw, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as his lips devoured you. He backed you up against the cool tile, his hands never leaving your body, exploring every inch like he wanted to memorize you. He knelt, kissing a trail down your stomach, his mouth hot against your skin, before rising again, his eyes dark with want.
He lifted you gently, supporting your weight easily, while you wrapped your legs around his waist. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest as he easily pushed his cock inside you once more, your entrance still slick with his seed from last time. “Fuck, you are perfect.” He murmured, his voice husky. The rhythm he set was steady and deep; each drag of his heavy cock inside you elicited a gasp from your lips, his name sobbed into the steam as you rolled your hips to meet his.
Water beaded on his shoulders, his hair plastered to his forehead as he pressed his forehead to yours, murmuring soft, reverent words between kisses: how beautiful you are, how safe you are with him, how much he wants you. His hands cradled you, holding you close as the pleasure built, as the world faded into nothing but the heat of your bodies, the slick slide of skin, the water cascaded around you. When you reached the edge, both of you fell over it together, Seungmin shuddering against you, your arms tightening around his neck as you breathlessly tighten around him; his lips found yours in a desperate, grateful kiss. Afterwards, he didn’t let you go, turning so the water could wash over your bodies, his hands gentle as he smoothed your hair back, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your lips.
He whispered, “I’ve got you, my beautiful girl”, over and over, until your breathing returned to normal. Wrapped in his arms beneath the falling water, you felt safe, cherished, and whole again.
Seungmin let you have the bathroom to yourself, giving you time to clean up and get dressed in fresh clothes. You heard him moving around the apartment; the quiet clatter of dishes and the warm, comforting aroma of something cooking drifted through the air. When you emerged, hair damp and skin still tingling from his touch, you found a simple meal waiting for you—eggs, toast, and a mug of coffee already poured.
Seungmin glanced up from the stove, his expression softening at the sight of you. "Sit," he said gently, sliding the plate in front of you. He leaned against the counter, watching you take your first tentative bite. "You need to eat, especially after…" He trailed off, a teasing smile playing at his lips, the memory of your time together lingering in his gaze.
You ate in comfortable silence, Seungmin moving around the kitchen, tidying up and making sure you had everything you needed. When you finished, he took your plate, rinsing it before letting you get comfortable with a book in the lounge, giving you some space to rest.
Seungmin returned, his keys jingling in his hand, his expression gentle but serious as he glanced at you curled up on his couch. "I have to go meet someone," he said quietly, crouching down in front of you so you were eye to eye. "It shouldn't take long, but I need you to stay here, alright? Lock the door, don't answer for anyone but me."
You nodded, setting your book aside. "I'll be fine. Just text when you get there?"
His lips curled into that soft smile you were learning to trust. "Of course. And you’re safe here. No one knows you’re with me, and I promise I’ll be back soon."
There was a pause. Seungmin studied your face, fingers reaching to brush a stray hair from your cheek. "If you need anything, call me."
You nodded again, and before he stood, he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips—slow and reassuring, a silent promise. His thumb lingered on your jaw as he pulled away, gaze steady. "I’ll come back to you. I always will."
He squeezed your hand once, then stood, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. You listened as the lock clicked, the apartment settling into quiet. For the first time in days, you felt safe enough to close your eyes and breathe.
Minjun’s hands shook as he counted out the money in the paper bag, knuckles white and jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might shatter. The dingy warehouse smelled of rust, spilt oil, and fear. Seungmin stood by the abandoned office window in the jaundiced streetlight glow, his expression unreadable.
“It’s all there,” Minjun said, his voice rough. He slid the bag across the table, every movement heavy with dread. “Every cent Chan asked for.”
Seungmin didn’t move at first. He let the silence stretch until it hurt, then stepped forward, picking up the bag and flipping through it with quick, practised hands. He nodded once, satisfied. “You did the smart thing.”
Minjun exhaled sharply, relief and terror mingling in his eyes. “So we’re done now?”
Seungmin’s lips twitched into something like a smile, but colder. “For Chan, yes.”
A beat. The sound of traffic outside. Minjun took a step back, but Seungmin closed the distance in an instant.
“But for me?” Seungmin’s voice dropped to a whisper as he drew the pistol from inside his jacket, silencer already attached. “We’re not done.”
Minjun’s eyes went wide. “Wait, no! Please! I did what you asked…”
“You hurt her,” Seungmin interrupted, his voice flat and merciless. “You put your hands on what’s mine.” Minjun stumbled back, pleading, but Seungmin didn’t give him a chance. The shot was barely more than a whisper; Minjun’s body jerked, then collapsed in a heap.
Seungmin crouched beside him, eyes cold. “This is for her. For every bruise you left. You never get to touch her or anyone else again.” He stood, wiped the gun clean, and left the bag of money on the table. When he stepped out into the night, it was as if Minjun had never existed at all.
The next night, Seungmin walked into Chan's office, the bag of money in his hand. The room was thick with smoke and tension, Chan behind his desk with Felix and Han on either side. Seungmin dropped the bag on the desk with a dull thud, meeting Chan's eyes without flinching.
"It's all there," Seungmin said. "Every cent he stole plus the interest."
Chan unzipped the bag, thumbing through the cash with a practised eye. He nodded, satisfied, then leaned back in his chair. "You handled it fast. Did Minjun get the message?"
Seungmin's expression didn't change. "He won't be a problem again."
Chan studied him for a beat, understanding flickering in his eyes. "That so?"
"He's dead," Seungmin said flatly. "He crossed too many lines."
A moment of silence passed. Chan let out a low exhale, almost a laugh. "Harsh."
Seungmin just shrugged. "He laid hands on someone who he shouldn't have. That's not something I let slide."
Chan gave a slow, approving nod, then gestured at the second photo still on his desk the one of you, smiling in the sun. "That so? The girl?"
Seungmin's gaze hardened protectively. "She's mine. No one will ever touch her again."
A flicker of something approval, maybe even respect crossed Chan's face. "Good. Just make sure she doesn't become a problem."
Seungmin's jaw tightened with a hint of warning. "She won't. As long as no one else tries to use her against me."
Chan grinned, waving him off. "Get some rest, Seung. You earned it."
Seungmin nodded, already halfway out the door, the ghost of a smile on his lips. The job was done. And this time, he made sure it was finished on his terms.
a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies this one was longer than I was expecting. Your likes, reblogs and comments light up my day xxx
I did a night shift, I just inhaled 3 cans of Red Bull
Hongjoong
The lights were dim, the rain tapping softly against the windows, the entire room wrapped in a golden hush. Hongjoong’s music equipment blinked quietly in the background, long forgotten — just like the half-written lyrics on the desk and the forgotten glass of whiskey at the nightstand.
Because you were in his lap, naked and warm, straddling him on the couch. His hands were gripping your hips as you rocked against him, your bare chest brushing his with every breath. The slow friction was almost cruel, almost teasing — but he let you take the lead, for now. Watching. Panting. Barely keeping it together.
“Fuck, baby…” he muttered, head falling back against the couch. “You feel so good. So fucking perfect.”
You leaned in, lips brushing his jaw. He smelled like amber and sin, his voice deep and ragged in your ear.
And that’s when you said it. Soft. Breathless. Barely above a whisper.
"오빠… 너무 좋아…"
(Oppa… it feels so good…)
The air shifted.
His entire body stiffened beneath you — like you’d yanked a string inside him and snapped it. Slowly, his head turned to face you, eyes wide and dark and blown-out. And for the first time that night, he looked completely wrecked.
“You just—” His voice cracked. “Did you just say that in Korean?”
You smiled, biting your lip shyly, and nodded.
“I’ve been practicing,” you whispered. “For you.”
There was a pause.
Then he growled, deep and visceral, grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you hard. His tongue was filthy, possessive — no space for softness now. Just need.
“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me,” he whispered against your mouth. “Say it again.”
You blinked, flushed. “Now?”
He flipped you.
One sharp movement and you were flat on the couch, wrists pinned above your head, Hongjoong towering over you, hair tousled, expression dark and reverent all at once. His hips pressed flush against yours, his cock grinding into you, slow and thick and unforgiving.
“Now,” he said, kissing down your throat. “Say it again while I’m inside you.”
You moaned. “오빠… 너무 좋아…”
He snapped his hips forward.
You gasped — the stretch, the way he filled you, how his name sounded in your own voice in another language — it all collided into something overwhelming.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Keep talking. I want to hear you fall apart in Korean.”
He started to move — deep and slow, every thrust deliberate, his teeth grazing your neck between kisses. His hand slipped under your thigh, hiking it higher, angling you just right.
“말해. Come on, baby. Say it like you mean it.”
(Say it.)
Your head was spinning.
“당신 거야… 오직 당신만…”
(I’m yours… only yours…)
That broke him.
His mouth dropped to your shoulder as he thrust harder, hips slamming into yours, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm. Every word from you made him rougher — not angry, just desperate. Like hearing you speak his language, in this way, in this moment, flipped a switch he didn’t even know he had.
“You have no idea what that does to me,” he groaned, grabbing your face. “You could ask me to do anything in Korean right now and I’d fucking do it.”
You whimpered beneath him, fingers clutching his back, legs wrapping tighter around his waist. He was getting close — you could tell by how his rhythm broke, how his breath stuttered.
Then you whispered, right in his ear:
“Please don’t stop… 더 원해…”
(I want more…)
Hongjoong cursed so loud you were sure someone would hear. He grabbed your hips with both hands and slammed into you, chasing your high with you, panting your name, sweat dripping from his forehead.
The orgasm hit you like a wave — your body arching, back bowing, the words slipping from your lips between gasps and moans. And he followed, groaning into your skin as he spilled inside you, pulsing with every thrust until he collapsed, forehead pressed against yours.
Seonghwa
It started with fingers tangled in sheets and a kiss that didn’t want to end.
The room was silent except for the sound of your breathing and the soft rustle of skin on skin. Seonghwa was stretched out over you, shirtless, his toned body pressed flush to yours, every inch of him warm and strong. He kissed you slowly, tenderly — like you were the only thing he wanted to taste, like he had nowhere else to be.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered against your lips, always gentle. Always careful with you.
But you didn’t want gentle.
Not tonight.
You grabbed his face, pulling him into another kiss, this one deeper, needier — and rolled your hips up into his. He groaned, a soft broken sound, and rocked back down, finally giving you pressure where you needed it most.
His lips moved to your throat, then down your chest, his breath warm, his tongue trailing slow circles that left your skin burning. You were already panting, hands in his hair, nails dragging lightly across his shoulders.
And then — just as he was about to push into you — you whispered it.
“너만 원해… 하동화…”
(You’re the only one I want… Ha Donghwa…)
Seonghwa stilled.
Completely.
His gaze lifted to yours, wide and stunned, his lips parted in disbelief.
“What… what did you just say?”
You swallowed. Heart thudding. “Did I say it wrong?”
He sat up slightly, still inside you but not moving, his hand brushing your cheek so delicately it almost hurt.
“No,” he breathed. “You said it perfectly.”
He stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time — like you’d reached into the center of his chest and squeezed without warning.
“You learned that for me?” His voice was trembling now. “You’ve been learning Korean?”
You nodded, suddenly shy beneath his adoring stare.
His forehead dropped to yours.
“Fuck,” he whispered, voice shaking. “Do you know what that does to me?”
You opened your mouth to answer — but then he started moving.
Deep. Slow. Worshipful.
You gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he rocked into you, each thrust purposeful and steady. He kept his face close to yours, watching every expression, drinking in every sound you made.
“Say it again,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “Please…”
You obeyed, your voice breathy and uneven.
“너만 원해…”
He groaned — low and desperate — and kissed you like he was losing control.
The softness unraveled.
He started moving faster, driving into you with more force, hands clutching at your hips like he couldn’t get enough. He whispered in Korean now too, messy and feverish, his voice broken:
“내 거야… 아무도 널 못 가져… 너는 내 거야…”
(You’re mine… no one else can have you… you’re mine…)
Hearing him — understanding even a little — made you melt. You could feel him getting closer, the pace becoming urgent, his hands everywhere.
You cupped his face and murmured, one last time:
“당신만 원해…”
(Only you…)
And he lost it.
He came with a strangled moan, burying his face in your neck as he held you so tightly it felt like he was scared you’d vanish. You followed right after, shaking beneath him, your nails leaving marks on his back.
Yunho
It started with laughter.
You were straddling him on the bed, his back resting against the headboard, both of you half-naked and flushed from kissing. He’d said something stupid and sweet — something that made you throw your head back and giggle. And he just stared at you, eyes full of warmth and something darker.
“You’re so beautiful when you laugh,” he murmured, voice low and genuine. “Like… painfully beautiful.”
You smiled, cheeks burning. “You’re just saying that to get in my pants.”
Yunho grinned. “I’m already in your pants.”
You blinked, then looked down — and sure enough, you were grinding on his hard length through your panties, and neither of you had even noticed how fast things were heating up.
His hands found your hips, guiding you gently, encouraging the movement. You gasped softly, bracing your hands on his chest as you began to roll your hips in slow, steady circles.
“God,” he groaned, letting his head fall back. “I could come just like this.”
You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear.
And then — with a confidence you didn’t even know you had — you whispered:
“너 때문에 미쳐…”
(You’re driving me crazy…)
Yunho froze.
His hands stilled. His chest stopped rising. He slowly turned his head to look at you — wide-eyed and dazed.
“Wait… what? What did you just say?”
You smirked, heart pounding. “Did I get it right?”
His eyes darkened instantly. “You did,” he said, voice gravelly. “You fucking did.”
Before you could speak again, Yunho grabbed you by the waist, flipped you beneath him in one fluid motion, and settled between your legs. The look on his face had completely changed — still soft, still Yunho, but now with fire behind his eyes.
“Say it again.”
You blinked up at him, lips parted. “Wha—”
He kissed you hard, sliding your panties aside with one hand and guiding himself to your entrance with the other.
“Say it again, baby,” he murmured against your mouth. “And don’t stop saying it until I make you scream.”
You moaned, body arching beneath him.
“너 때문에… 미쳐…”
(You’re driving me… crazy…)
He slammed into you.
Your head fell back with a cry, and Yunho groaned low in your ear.
“God, your voice—your fucking voice saying that—” He thrust again, deep and hard. “You have no idea what you’ve just started.”
You were gasping, clawing at his back as he picked up the pace. Every movement felt precise, relentless — like he wanted to bury himself so deep you’d never forget what he felt like.
“You’re amazing,” he panted. “So fucking smart. So sexy. And now you’re turning me on with my own language?”
You barely managed to whimper another breathless “너 때문에…” before his hand slid down to your thigh, pushing your legs wider, deeper, closer—
Your orgasm hit you like a wave — all-consuming and sudden, your body trembling under him. And he wasn’t far behind, the heat in his gaze turning molten as he buried himself in you with one final groan, spilling into you with his name on your lips.
Yeosang
It was quiet.
Not awkward quiet — but peaceful. Intimate. The kind of quiet that existed only between two people who trusted each other with everything.
Yeosang had you beneath him on the bed, the silky sheets bunched around your bodies, his bare skin warm against yours. His hands were gentle, lips exploring you like you were something sacred. His touch wasn’t hurried. He never was. He liked to savor things — you especially.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, kissing down your collarbone. “So real.”
You tangled your fingers in his hair and held him closer, your thighs parting instinctively as he slid against your soaked heat. You were already trembling under him, his slow movements teasing and careful, like he was worshipping every inch of you.
And still — you wanted more.
Your breath hitched, lips brushing against his ear.
“상아… 제발 멈추지 마…”
(Sangie… please don’t stop…)
He stilled.
Completely.
You felt it instantly — the way his muscles tensed, how his body went rigid above you. He pulled back, looking down at you with wide, stunned eyes.
“What… did you just say?”
You flushed, suddenly shy. “I-I just… I’ve been learning. For a while. I thought—”
“Say it again.”
His voice was low. Different. Almost… trembling.
You hesitated, but his hand slid to cup your cheek, eyes locked on yours.
“Please,” he whispered.
So you did.
“상아… 멈추지 마…”
(Sangie… don’t stop…)
Something snapped in him.
He groaned — loud and raw — and crashed his lips to yours, swallowing the last syllable as he thrust into you hard, all gentleness thrown to the wind. You gasped, digging your nails into his back, shocked at the sudden roughness, the fire in his eyes.
“You’ve been learning Korean this whole time?” he rasped between kisses. “And you never told me?”
His pace grew relentless, his grip tighter, hips slamming into you in perfect rhythm. The Yeosang you knew — quiet, composed — was completely gone. Replaced by someone hungry. Possessive. Unhinged.
“Say more,” he growled. “Say it again. Anything.”
Your voice was shaky, breathless, but you obeyed.
“당신 거야… 너만 원해…”
(I’m yours… I only want you…)
He cursed in Korean, forehead pressed to yours, his entire body trembling as he drove into you harder, deeper. You could barely think — his name falling from your lips like a prayer, your moans rising with every thrust.
“I can’t believe you did this,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
Your orgasm hit fast — white-hot and uncontrollable — and you screamed his name, your whole body clenching around him. He followed with a desperate groan, spilling into you as he held you tight, like he didn’t know how to let go.
San
It was chaotic from the start.
San had you pressed up against the wall in the hallway, both of you half-dressed from how urgently you’d torn at each other’s clothes. Your shirt hung open, your underwear already somewhere on the floor, and his sweatpants were barely hanging on.
“Couldn’t even wait to make it to the bedroom,” he panted against your mouth, grinning like a devil. “You’re really that desperate for me, huh?”
You grabbed his face and kissed him hard, cutting off the cocky remark. Your hips bucked against his, seeking more friction, and San groaned — low, from deep in his throat — as he slipped his hand between your legs.
“Fuck… you’re soaked.”
His fingers teased you, slow at first, then faster. You gasped, squirming, clutching at his shoulders.
And then — in a moment of reckless courage — you moaned:
“산… 너무 깊어…”
(Sannie… it’s so deep…)
He went dead still.
His hand froze, his lips hovering just above your neck.
“…What,” he said slowly, breath hot.
You blinked up at him, your cheeks flushed. “Was that okay?”
He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes — and what you saw there wasn’t confusion. It was pure hunger.
“You’ve been learning Korean,” he whispered. “And you waited until now to use it?”
You didn’t have time to answer. In a flash, he lifted you up — effortlessly — and slammed you against the wall, hooking your legs around his waist. Before you could even catch your breath, he was inside you, burying himself to the hilt in one thrust.
You cried out, nails digging into his back.
“Shit, baby,” he groaned. “You’re too good to me.”
He started moving — fast, deep, relentless. His hands gripped your thighs like he was afraid you’d slip away, his hips slamming into you with filthy precision.
“Say it again. Say that shit again in Korean.”
You moaned, head falling back against the wall.
“너무… 깊어…”
(It’s so… deep…)
That did it.
He snapped.
One hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing — just holding you still — while his mouth kissed and bit down your jaw.
“God, I love hearing that from you,” he growled. “You saying my name like that — fuck — I’ll never be the same.”
He didn’t slow down. If anything, he got rougher, chasing both your highs like a man possessed. You were seeing stars, body writhing, the dirty words falling from your lips in broken syllables.
You whimpered again, voice shaking:
“산… 당신 거야…”
(San… I’m yours…)
His head dropped to your shoulder as he came hard, with a guttural moan that vibrated against your skin. You followed seconds later, your legs trembling, your whole body pulsing with heat.
Mingi
Mingi had you laid out on his bed like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to devour you or worship you.
His lips were everywhere — your neck, your chest, the inside of your thighs — moving like he couldn’t stand to leave any part of you untouched. You were already trembling under him, wrists pinned above your head with one large hand, your legs open and shaking, your entire body burning for him.
“You’re killing me, baby,” he muttered, dragging his tongue slowly down your stomach. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
You moaned his name, arching up into him as his hips settled between your thighs. He was already hard and heavy, brushing against your slick entrance, teasing you, driving you mad.
“Mingi, please…”
He smirked, leaning down to kiss your jaw. “What, baby? You want it?”
You nodded desperately, whimpering.
“Say it again,” he growled. “Say you want me.”
But instead, you whispered:
“나 당신 꺼야…”
(I’m yours…)
He froze.
Then groaned so loud it echoed off the walls.
“You did not just—”
His grip tightened on your wrists. His body jerked like your words physically rocked through him. And when he looked down at you again, his eyes were dark — totally wrecked.
“You… learned that for me?” he asked, voice hoarse.
You nodded, breathless. “Just a little. For you.”
“Baby…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he slammed into you, hard and sudden, making you cry out and clutch at his shoulders.
“You’re mine?” he hissed. “You wanna say that shit in Korean and expect me to stay sane?”
You gasped, moaning as he began to move — fast and rough, fucking you into the mattress like he had something to prove. His hand slid under your thigh, hiking it higher, tilting your hips up so he could hit deeper, harder, every time.
“Say it again,” he growled. “Please, say it again. I need to hear it.”
You were nearly sobbing, the pleasure unbearable — but you obeyed.
“당신 거야… 민기야, 제발…”
(I’m yours… Mingi, please…)
He let out a long, broken moan, slamming into you so deep you saw stars.
“Fuck, you sound so hot saying that,” he gasped. “You’re gonna make me come just from that voice.”
The bed rocked under you, the room filled with the wet sounds of skin on skin and your mingled moans. You were unraveling fast — every thrust pushing you closer to the edge, every word sending him deeper into obsession.
Then you whimpered one final time:
“오직 너야…”
(Only you…)
Mingi broke.
He cursed, loud and rough, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside you, his whole body shaking. You followed him seconds later, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, making your body arch and shudder beneath him.
Wooyoung
You didn’t know how it got this far — one second, you were sitting on the couch in nothing but his oversized shirt, teasing him with your bare thighs as he played a game, and the next thing you knew, you were pinned to the wall, legs around his waist, Wooyoung’s mouth on your neck like he was starving.
“You think you’re cute, walking around like that?” he growled between kisses. “Acting all innocent?”
His hands were everywhere — squeezing your ass, tugging at the shirt like he wanted it off, grinding his hard cock right against your soaked center.
You moaned, tugging at his hair. “You were the one ignoring me!”
“I wasn’t ignoring you,” he smirked. “I was waiting to see how long you could keep pretending you weren’t begging for this.”
He carried you to the bedroom without ever letting you down — tossing you on the mattress and stripping you naked with practiced ease. In seconds, he was on top of you, hips rocking against yours, lips crashing into yours like a challenge.
“Say it,” he whispered against your lips. “Say how bad you want me.”
You locked eyes with him, heart racing, and whispered:
“오빠… 너무 좋아요…”
(Oppa… it feels so good…)
Silence.
Wooyoung froze like he’d been electrocuted.
“…What the fuck?” His voice was raspy. “What. The actual. Fuck.”
He stared at you like you’d just unleashed something dangerous.
“Say that again,” he hissed.
You blinked, nervous. “I—”
“No. Say it again. Say it exactly like that.”
You swallowed — heat rushing to your face — and repeated:
“오빠… 너무 좋아요…”
He growled.
Actually growled.
“Oh, it’s fucking over for you.”
In a blink, he flipped you onto your stomach, yanked your hips up, and slammed into you from behind, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out, gripping the sheets, your body jolting from the sudden intensity.
“You were keeping that from me?” he groaned. “You’ve been learning Korean and you used it like that?”
He was ruthless now, fucking you hard and deep, the slapping sounds echoing off the walls. One hand gripped your hip tight, the other slid into your hair, yanking it gently to make you arch.
“Say it again. Keep saying it. I wanna hear my name in your voice in my language.”
You moaned helplessly, tears threatening from how good it felt.
“오빠… 너무 좋아요… 제발…”
That shattered him.
He pounded into you, merciless and panting, curses falling from his lips in Korean.
“내 여자야… 이건 다 내 거야… 누구 것도 아니야…”
(You’re my girl… all of this is mine… no one else’s…)
His pace got sloppy as he neared his peak, hips jerking as he reached down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. You were a mess beneath him, moaning in broken syllables, shaking and babbling.
“오직 너야… 우영아… 당신만…”
(Only you… Wooyoung… only you…)
You both came hard, your body convulsing as you screamed his name, while he groaned your praises against your back, still buried deep inside you.
Jongho
It was one of those slow, late nights — the kind where everything felt softer, quieter, more vulnerable. Jongho had lit a single candle on the nightstand, and the rest of the room was cast in warm, flickering shadows.
He had you wrapped in his arms, bodies tangled under the sheets, your bare legs hooked over his hips. The intimacy was quiet but heavy — loaded. He moved with such steady control, every thrust deep and rhythmic, his mouth brushing over your skin as he held you close.
“You feel so good,” he whispered, breath warm against your collarbone. “Every time. Like you were made for me.”
You moaned, your fingers sliding into his hair, clinging to him as his hips rocked into yours, slow but deep enough to make your toes curl.
He kissed you again — gentle at first, then deeper. Hungrier.
Your whole body was burning with the need to tell him how much you loved this — how much you loved him. So you gathered every bit of courage and whispered it softly into his ear:
“정호야… 네 거야…”
(Jongho… I’m yours…)
He froze.
Completely.
His breath caught in his throat. He pulled back just far enough to look you in the eye, still inside you, his hand trembling slightly against your jaw.
“What did you just say?”
Your voice was barely a whisper. “I… I’ve been learning. I just wanted to say it. For you.”
His face went blank for a second — like he short-circuited.
Then he exhaled slowly, his expression shifting into something you’d never seen before.
“Again,” he said, voice low. Stern. Commanding. “Say it again.”
“네 거야…”
(I’m yours…)
That was all it took.
Jongho’s hand slipped under your thigh and hitched your leg higher. His hips snapped forward — not fast, but hard. Deep. Possessive. Like he wanted to remind you exactly what “yours” meant.
“You can’t say that and expect me to stay calm,” he muttered. “Do you even understand what that does to me?”
You nodded shakily, your whole body alight with need.
“I wanted to surprise you…”
He thrust again — even deeper — dragging a long moan from your lips.
“You did,” he breathed. “You surprised me, baby. Now you’re gonna take everything I give you.”
He fucked you slowly but mercilessly, each stroke angled perfectly, his body flush against yours. The contrast of his usual gentle demeanor and this quiet, obsessed dominance was dizzying.
“Say it again,” he ordered. “Say it till you forget how to speak anything else.”
You whimpered, obeying between moans.
“정호야… 당신 거야… 네 거야…”
(Jongho… I’m yours… all yours…)
He groaned so deep it rumbled in his chest. His grip tightened. His pace stuttered, desperate now, as he chased his climax with trembling restraint.
“Mine,” he growled. “You’re mine.”
You both came hard — together — your name and his tangled in broken cries as your bodies shook from the intensity. He stayed inside you, breathing heavily, head resting on your shoulder like he didn’t want the moment to end.
Pairing: OT8 x reader
Word Count: .9K
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: none
a/n: Just a little cutesy one for Christmas x
Christmas comes with traditions and one of those is standing under the mistletoe
Bang Chan
The dorm is warm, full of half-hung decorations and music humming from Chan’s laptop. You’re helping him untangle fairy lights as he tells you about the kids when he suddenly goes quiet. You look at him confused at his sudden silence. He’s smiling… but at something above you.
“Uh… what?” you ask.
He steps closer, lifting a finger to the mistletoe he secretly taped to the doorframe earlier. “Oh look at that,” he says, cheeks pink. “Guess we have to follow tradition.”
You barely have time to protest before he laughs softly and leans in, giving you a gentle, warm kiss—quick but sincere. When he pulls back, he’s grinning like he didn’t just turn your whole brain into fuzzy mush.
“Surprise,” he murmurs.
Lee Know
You spot Minho dusting fake snow off the counter while his cats weave between his feet. You’re chatting casually when he suddenly stops you with a hand on your wrist. “Don’t move.”
You freeze in mild panic. “Is there a bug? Minho, do not tell me—”
He steps closer, lifts your chin slightly, and nods up at the mistletoe dangling from the shelf. “Tradition,” he says simply. No teasing. No explanation.
Before you can react, he leans in and presses a soft, unexpectedly sweet kiss to your lips—then pulls back like nothing happened. You’re staring at him, stunned.
Minho smirks, giving your shoulder a little nudge. “What? Don’t tell me you’re shy now.”
Seo Changbin
You’re helping Changbin carry boxes of holiday snacks inside when he stops abruptly in the doorway.
You do. There’s one lonely sprig of mistletoe hanging from the door frame. Changbin is suddenly watching your expression like he’s afraid you’ll run for the hills.
Before you can say anything, he blurts, “It’s tradition!” Then he quickly cups your cheeks and gives you a firm, fast kiss.
He pulls away, flustered, muttering to himself, “I did it. Oh my god. I actually did it.”
Meanwhile, you’re left blinking in stunned silence as he rushes ahead like he didn’t just short-circuit your entire system.
Hwang Hyunjin
Hyunjin is hanging ornaments when he asks you to pass him another ribbon. You step closer and he gracefully takes it—before his eyes flick to something behind you.
His lips curl into a slow, mischievous smile. “What perfect timing.”
You turn around to see mistletoe dangling from the ceiling light.
When you look back, he’s already closer, eyes soft and sparkling.
“Don’t look so shocked,” he whispers.
He brushes his hand against your cheek and gives you a slow, gentle kiss that makes the world go quiet. When he pulls away, he laughs at your stunned expression. “You’re cute when you’re surprised.”
Han Jisung
You’re helping Jisung taste-test cookie batter when he accidentally smears some on your nose. You swipe a bit on his cheek in revenge.
Chaos ensues. While you’re both laughing, he suddenly freezes like a deer in headlights.
“What?” you ask.
He points upward dramatically. “We’ve been targeted.”
You spot the mistletoe—but before you finish processing it, Jisung has already leaned in and pecked your lips, a tiny, soft kiss. Then he jumps back, covering his face with both hands. “AHHH I DIDN’T THINK IT’D BE THAT CUTE—WAIT I MEAN— YOU’RE CUTE—NO I MEAN—”
You’re left speechless while he collapses onto the couch in a flustered heap.
Lee Felix
Felix is humming Christmas tunes as he places cookies onto a tray. He turns to ask you something when he stops mid-sentence.
His eyes flick up. His freckles brighten with his smile. “Oh… that’s adorable.”
You glance up and see the mistletoe. You barely react before Felix takes your hands in his, warmth radiating from his palms.
“Only if you’re okay with it,” he says softly.
When you nod slowly, he kisses you gently—slow, warm, and full of fondness. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours. “You look so pretty when you’re surprised.”
Kim Seungmin
You’re hanging garland with Seungmin when he steps back and bumps into you. You steady him, and he looks up… then does a double take.
“Huh,” he says in that calm, observant voice. “That wasn’t here a second ago.”
You follow his gaze to the mistletoe. Before you can say anything, he sighs dramatically. “Well, rules are rules.”
He leans in and gives you the softest, quickest kiss imaginable—like he’s pretending it’s not affecting him at all.
You stare at him, mouth slightly open. He turns away with a tiny smirk. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll get flustered.”
Yang Jeongin (I.N)
Jeongin is trying to put a star on top of the tree when he gets stuck on his tiptoes. You rush in to help steady him.
He hops down… and then his eyes go wide. “Wait—uh—look.”
You spot the mistletoe above you two just as he nervously twirls a piece of tinsel in his fingers.
“I think this means…” he says, voice soft, cheeks turning sunset-pink.
Before you can tease him, he leans in and gives you a shy, brief kiss—barely a brush of lips—then immediately hides his face in his hands.
“Oh no, I actually did it,” he mumbles through his palms.
You’re still frozen in surprise as he peeks at you with the tiniest smile.
a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies your support and encouragement has been a light in the darkness for me xx
ღGenre: sci fi au, aliens au, predator au, riddick au, established relationship trope, poly trope
ღWord Count so far: 10,476
ღRated: 18+ MDNI, smut with no plot
ღSynopsis: three Aliens (Alien, Ridley Scott), three Furyans (Pitch Black, David Twohy), and two Predators (Predator, John Mctiernan) live on the ship that you captain and pilot.
ღWarnings so far: breeding kink, oviposition (egg laying), crossing species mating, spit kink, nipple play, penetrative sex without barrier, cum shot, m and f orgasms, mxm, oral (m receiving), biting, seonghwa is egg crazy? like pussy drunk, all members are humanoid with slight traits of their species, cnc(consensual non-consent), predator/prey play (no pun intended ><), double penetration (two cocks one puss), fingering (f receiving), marking (blood, claws digging into flesh), fear kink, sub! Reader, doms! Jongho and Yeosang, aftercare (for both the sex and the wounds), creampie, kissing, slight bdsm with Seonghwa’s tail, aphrodisiac, overstim, oviposition (alien eggs are in the reader), oral (f), fingering (f), (for plot reasons, I made up some Furyan culture facts), size kink, oviposition kink, pregnancy kink, dirty talk, hand job
Stories in chronical order
(in which they happened, not in which they were posted)
Dual Courtship: Heart in your throat - JongSang focused (storied post)
Pairing Wooyoung x Reader x Yeosang
Word Count: 6.8K
Genre: Gothic Romance
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities
a/n: The final installment of my attempt at Gothic Romance, Horror/Thrillers for Halloween. I hope you enjoy it.
They were thieves and you were just another payday
The moon hung full over the forest road, spilling silver light over the carriage as it rattled along the uneven stones. Inside, you sank back against the velvet cushions, your lavender and pearl gown—still fragrant of roses and candle smoke from the ball—rustling faintly with each turn of the wheel. The world beyond the windows was little more than shadow and whispering leaves.
Then came the sudden jolt.
The horses screamed and the carriage lurched to a stop so violently that you nearly struck the opposite seat. The coachman’s frightened shout broke the night—followed by another, more commanding voice. “Stay where you are, old man. We only want what’s worth taking.”
The coachman's seat groaned and squeaked making you cower into the pillows surrounding you. A lone shot splintered the quiet of the night curdling your blood in your veins. "No need for anyone to die tonight old man, no coin is worth your life."
You froze, every heartbeat echoing painfully in your ribs. Through the window’s pale glass, you saw two figures illuminated by the lantern light. Both were masked in black, the gleam of their pistols stark against the night. One—taller, broad-shouldered, with a smile sharp as a knife’s edge—stood before the horses, steady and unflinching. The other lingered near the door, silent but watchful, the tilt of his head too composed for a mere bandit.
The door swung open with a creak.
“Well, well,” drawled the first man, his voice smooth, touched by dark amusement. “Seems fortune’s blessed us tonight, Yeosang. The carriage carries more than silver.”
The quiet one—Yeosang—lifted his eyes to you. The lantern’s glow caught on them, amber and cutting beneath the edge of his mask. There was something unreadable in his gaze—something that made your pulse leap faster than fear alone could justify. “Step out, my lady,” he said, his tone almost courteous. “We won’t harm you if you do as we ask.”
Your eyes flicked to the pistol still held in his other hand the scent of gun smoke still lingering in the air. Your white gloved hands trembled as you obeyed, the silk hem of your gown brushing the mud. The night air bit at your bare shoulders, and your diamonds caught the moonlight like frost.
The first man—Wooyoung, you later learned—gave a low whistle. “Look at her. Dressed like a dream spun for sin and gold.” His smile deepened when you flinched. “Don’t worry, princess. We’re not in the habit of hurting pretty things.”
You wanted to speak, to curse them, to plead—but your tongue betrayed you. The fear was thick in your throat, yet behind it, something perilous stirred: curiosity. They were outlaws, yes—but not the ragged villains from roadside tales. Their coats were dark but tailored, their movements deliberate, graceful even. These were men who commanded the world around them—men who chose their lives beyond the law. You had heard stories of handsome highway men stealing silver, jewels and the hearts of young women while in the city, you thought them at the time merely tales. But now you desperately hoped they were true. The alternative of brutes and villains stealing ladies' virtues by force and leaving them disgraced was terrifying.
Yeosang stepped closer, taking your hand to help you down from the carriage. His touch was unexpectedly warm, his fingers calloused yet careful, and for a heartbeat too long he didn’t let go.
“Please,” you managed, voice unsteady but still quiet. “My family will—will pay whatever you want.”
Wooyoung’s grin flashed again as he tossed your coachman a mocking bow. “That’s exactly what we’re counting on.”
A black horse snorted nearby, restless. The men moved with practiced precision—Yeosang gathering the reins, and Wooyoung pulling a thick riding cloak around your shoulders before lifting you effortlessly into the saddle before him. Pulling you firmly against his solid chest, the heat that emanated from him and the strength of his arms leaving you terrified.
The forest swallowed the road behind you as they rode away. Wind tore through your hair, perfume and fear tangling in the air. Beneath the terror that should have consumed you, something hotter flickered—an unwilling fascination for the strangers who stole you from the safety of your name and fortune. Strangers that were possibly far more than just thieves.
And when Wooyoung murmured near your ear, his breath warm against your skin— “Don’t worry, darling. You’ll be home soon enough… if your family values you properly”—you almost wished, for reasons you couldn’t name, that they never did. You quickly shook the thoughts from your head, these men wanted your father's money and nothing more. Stories of mystery men and damsels in distress would not help you now.
The ride through the forest seemed endless—trees flashing by like sentinels, moonlight filtering through their branches in shivering fragments. By the time the horses slowed, your limbs were trembling from more than cold. You were miles from the safety of your father's lands now and completely lost within the forest. You realized suddenly that there was no escape from your situation and it chilled you to the core.
The hideout was no crude den, but an abandoned hunting lodge half-lost to ivy and shadow. A single lantern burned by the door, its flame trembling in the wind as though waiting for them to return.
Yeosang dismounted first, his movements quiet and deliberate. Wooyoung slid down next, his arm looping around your waist before your feet even touched the ground. “Careful,” he murmured, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. “We’d hate for our ransom to bruise before we’ve collected.”
You stiffened, glaring despite the panic fluttering in your chest. “You’re vile.”
“Maybe,” Wooyoung said lightly, his grin wicked beneath the mask. “But you’re trembling, sweetheart, and not just from fear.”
Yeosang shot him a look—cool, warning—but said nothing. Instead, he gestured toward the door. “Inside. You’ll be warm there.”
The interior was unexpectedly civilized—lit by a small fire, with furs thrown across the floor and bottles of wine lining an old wooden table. It smelled of smoke, leather, and something faintly spiced. They had obviously been using it as a base for some time as spare cloaks, pistol cases and a few bags of coins lay haphazardly on the surfaces.
Wooyoung threw his coat aside, the gesture careless but elegant, and leaned against the mantel. “You should eat. There’s food in the basket. We’re not animals.”
You hovered by the hearth, uncertain, watching as Yeosang poured wine into a silver cup. He handed it to you without meeting your eyes, but when your fingers brushed, you felt it again—that heat beneath the veneer of control. “Drink,” he said softly. “It will calm you.”
“I’d rather not be drugged,” you snapped, though your voice shook.
His lips twitched. “If I meant to drug you, you wouldn’t still be speaking.” The blunt honesty of it stole your breath. You sipped—just once—and the wine burned sweet down your throat. You took another sip hoping it would indeed calm you.
Silence stretched, thick as velvet. The fire popped, scattering sparks that danced in Wooyoung’s eyes. “So,” he said after a long moment, “who are you, truly? You look too fine to be a merchant’s daughter.”
You hesitated. “My father is Lord Ainsworth.”
Wooyoung gave a low whistle. “A lord’s daughter. No wonder you smell of lilies and coin.”
You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly cold again. “And when he does? Will you let me go?” Neither of them answered immediately. The silence pressed close.
Finally, Yeosang spoke. “We’re thieves, not murderers. You have my word.” It should have comforted you—but his calm, quiet certainty only made your pulse race faster.
Wooyoung moved casually towards you until he was standing right behind you, spiking your pulse as he inhaled deeply to take in your scent. "I will help your case however, if you were to donate that lovely necklace to our cause." His shameless words made you shiver before you slowly reached up to undo the clasp at the back of your neck. "Excellent choice princess." he whispered just behind your left ear as Yeosang glared at him, Wooyoung's laughter loud as he moved to stow your jewels away.
Later, when you sat near the fire wrapped in a cloak that smelled faintly of gunpowder and smoke, you could feel their eyes—one’s gaze teasing and hungry, the other’s steady, contemplative. The heat of the flames did nothing to cool the strange, dangerous pull that wound itself around the three of you.
You knew you should hate them. You wanted to. But when Wooyoung laughed low and Yeosang’s eyes lingered on you just a moment too long, you realized with dread that the fear you felt was no longer pure. It was tangled with something else—something that burned just as hot.
"You should rest, you are safe from us" Yeosang sighed softly, moving to help you from the chair you've been sitting in for hours. "There are clothes you can wear that won't be so extravagant to sleep in." He gestured back towards an area of the lodge that had been hidden by hanging sheets which when pulled back revealed two beds that were unmade and rumpled. You swallowed hard as he led you to one of the beds, your panic rising as you imagined one of them sleeping beside you but Yeosang merely handed you a large linen shirt and some trousers before turning to leave, letting the sheet fall to hide you from their view as you changed.
You had never worn trousers but you removed your dress, petticoats and stockings to allow you to put them on the fabric feeling well worn against your skin. You laid your dress out carefully on the other bed before you tentatively sat on the edge of the bed. Eventually Wooyoung lifted the sheet again, smiling darkly as you instinctively covered yourself with the cloak.
The fire had burned low, the last of the wood collapsing into soft embers that painted the room in shades of gold and shadow. You still sat wrapped in the cloak they’d given you on the bed too rattled with fear to sleep, listening as the two men spoke in hushed tones at the table.
Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, a quill twirling between his fingers, the parchment before him scrawled with figures. “Her father’s a lord,” he said, flashing you a quick, wolfish grin. “We can bleed him without killing him.”
Yeosang, across from him, folded his arms. “If we ask for too much, they’ll send soldiers instead of silver. He’s wealthy, but not a fool.”
“True,” Wooyoung drawled, eyes dancing. “But the girl’s a jewel. He’ll pay well to keep her from gossip—or worse.” You shivered at that, though you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or the thrill that ran beneath his words.
Yeosang glanced at you then, his expression unreadable in the half-light. “He’s not wrong." A quiet but pointed sigh followed as he turned back to Wooyoung "but you don’t need to frighten her more than necessary.”
Wooyoung laughed, scribbling another number. “You always play the gentleman. Pity it doesn’t suit our line of work.”
Yeosang’s tone dropped, quiet and cold. “I do what’s necessary. Not more.”
The air between them hummed with something unspoken—tension or understanding, you couldn’t tell. Finally, Wooyoung sighed, folded the parchment neatly, and stood. “Very well. I’ll deliver the note to the courier before dawn. Our lady guest can keep you company in my absence.”
Yeosang’s gaze flickered upward. “Wooyoung—”
But Wooyoung was already shrugging on his coat, his grin sharp in the firelight. “Try not to scare her off, hm? She’s much prettier when she’s not trembling.”
Your breath caught as he disappeared through the door, leaving behind only the sound of the wind pressing against the shutters. Silence settled again—thick, uncomfortable.
Yeosang poured himself another cup of wine, then glanced toward you. “He talks too much,” he murmured. Gesturing to the softer thread bare velvet chair that sat nearer to where they had been for you to sit in.
Nodding you silently moving back to where you sat beside the fire. You hesitated. “You work well together.” You couldn't help the way your eyes were drawn to his handsome face or his strong shoulders.
His lips curved faintly. “We understand each other. That’s enough.”
He stood then, crossing to the fire. The light caught on his jaw, the edge of his throat, the fall of light hair against his collar. He wasn’t smiling now. “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he said quietly.
You blinked, startled. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to decide whether to be afraid or intrigued.”
You swallowed hard. “Maybe I’m both.” Color rose in your cheeks at your unabashed words although hopefully it was hidden by the orange glow of the room
He didn’t move closer, but the weight of his gaze felt like a touch. “You should be. Fear keeps you alive.”
“And the rest?” you asked before you could stop yourself.
“The rest,” he said after a long pause, voice low, “is what makes you human.” For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the soft crackle of the fire and the distant cry of an owl.
And though you sat in the heart of danger, surrounded by thieves and lies, it wasn’t dread that filled your chest—it was something far more perilous. A strange smoldering feeling that sparked to life when one of them looked at you.
The night deepened until the fire was the only light left, its slow pulse gilding the edges of the room. Yeosang sat across from you now, one elbow resting on the arm of his chair, the other hand cradling the cup of wine he hadn’t yet drunk. He studied you for a long time before speaking.
“Tell me something, my lady,” he began, his voice quiet but cutting through the silence easily. “Is there someone waiting for you? A suitor? A husband-to-be who’ll rally the countryside to find you?”
You hesitated, caught between defiance and wanting to know that you were not yet promised to any man. “No,” you said at last. “No one.”
His brows rose slightly. “Truly? A lord’s beautiful daughter and no betrothal arranged? That’s unusual.”
“My father values alliances over affection,” you said bitterly. “And he’s yet to find anyone… profitable enough, I suppose.”
Something flickered in Yeosang’s expression—interest, perhaps, or sympathy, though it was gone as quickly as it came. “Then he’ll pay well for you,” he said finally. “If not out of love, then pride.”
You looked up sharply. “You sound as though you’ve already measured the sum of my worth.” His words pricked you like a thorn.
“I have to,” he said simply. “The longer your father hesitates, the longer you stay here. And I’d rather that not be too long.”
The bluntness of it stung more than you expected. “Because you fear I’ll be trouble?”
Yeosang’s gaze lingered on you, dark and unreadable. “Because you already are.” You looked away, your pulse skipping. The quiet that followed was taut, full of things neither of you dared say.
He rose then, crossing to the small window. The moonlight cut across his features, softening the hard lines for a moment. “If he sends word quickly, you’ll be home in a few days.”
“And if he doesn’t?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Yeosang turned to face you fully, his eyes meeting yours. “Then I suppose you’ll have to learn to live with thieves.”
Before you could answer, the door burst open and a gust of cold air swept through. Wooyoung strode in, boots muddy, coat thrown over one shoulder. His grin was sharper than usual, though his eyes gleamed with the thrill of fresh gossip.
“Well, aren’t we famous,” he announced, tossing his gloves onto the table. “Half the county’s whispering already. ‘The Lord’s precious daughter taken by rogues,’ they say. ‘Dangerous men from the hills—wild, desperate.’” He laughed, unbothered by the weight of his words. “There’s talk of a reward, too. He’s desperate to find her before scandal does.”
Yeosang’s expression darkened. “So soon?”
“News travels fast when it’s dressed in finery, silk and fear,” Wooyoung said. He turned to you, eyes glinting. “Congratulations, princess. You’ve become a legend.”
You shrank back slightly, the reality of it hitting for the first time—your name, your family, your life beyond this place—all now entangled with theirs.
Yeosang stepped forward, his tone measured but firm. “This makes things dangerous. We’ll have to move her if the lord sends men to search.”
Wooyoung nodded, though the amusement never left his face. “And here I thought we’d have her all to ourselves for a little while longer.” The way he said it made your stomach twist—fear, with a touch of something darker. Something hotter.
Yeosang shot him a look that silenced whatever he meant to say next. Then he turned back to you, voice low, calm, but carrying that same quiet intensity as before. “Rest, my lady. Tomorrow may be… difficult.”
You nodded, though your heart beat wildly.
And as the two men spoke in low voices near the door—one pragmatic, the other reckless—you couldn’t tell which was more dangerous: the thought of being found… or the strange, consuming pull that made you almost wish you wouldn’t be.
The morning broke pale and cold, mist curling through the trees like breath. You sat at the long table, the remnants of breakfast before you—bread, cheese, and a half-drunk cup of tea that had long gone cold.
Yeosang was already shrugging into his coat, his usual composure sharpened by tension. “I’ll need to restock before we move her,” he said, fastening his belt with a clipped motion. “We’re low on food and powder.”
Wooyoung lounged near the hearth, the very picture of careless ease. “Always the responsible one,” he said, smirking over the rim of his cup. “Go on then. I’ll keep our guest entertained.”
Yeosang’s gaze flicked briefly to you—something wary in his expression, like he wanted to warn you without words. “Don’t frighten her,” he said finally.
Yeosang gave a quiet sigh and was gone, the door closing behind him with a muted thud.
The silence that followed seemed to thrum with new energy. Wooyoung watched you for a moment, then rose—slow, deliberate. “You know,” he said conversationally, circling the table, “he doesn’t trust me alone with you. I can’t imagine why.”
You tensed, your fingers knotting in your lap. “Because you enjoy playing with people.”
He laughed softly. “Ah, so you’ve noticed.” He came to stand behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body. His voice dropped, low and teasing. “Tell me, princess… is it fear that makes you shake when I speak to you? Or something else?”
You swallowed hard, every instinct torn between flight and fascination. “You terrify me.”
He leaned closer, breath warm against your ear. “Good. Terror makes the heart race.” His gloved fingers brushed a loose curl from your shoulder, and you went rigid. But he only smiled, stepping back before the gesture could turn into something else. “Relax. I’m not the monster your father’s stories warned you about. Not unless you ask nicely.”
You turned to glare at him, trying to hide the shiver that followed. “You’re vile.”
“True,” he said, his grin widening, “but at least I’m honest about it.”
Your glare wavered as he moved closer to you again, circling in front of you and forcing you to take your own step back "You already have my jewels, soon my father's money, what else could you possibly want from me?"
Wooyoung's eyes flicked downward slowly traveling your body before his grin turned more dangerous, his voice lowering to a soft rasp "There are so many more things I could want from you, princess."
Words stuck in your throat, you wanted to tell him to leave you alone, recoil from him but something else within you told you to let him talk, let him step closer to you. Worse perhaps even let him touch you.
Wooyoung chuckled darkly wetting his lower lip before making his way back towards the basket of food on the table "Cat got your tongue, princess?"
Before you could respond, the door burst open. Yeosang strode in, wind-tossed and tense, his expression all business. “We have to move,” he said, voice brisk. “Now.”
“Your father’s men are combing the lower forest. They’ll find the lodge by nightfall if we stay.”
You stood, heart lurching. “My father’s men? They’re coming here?” You weren't sure if it was panic or relief that you felt wash over you.
Yeosang met your gaze, calm but unyielding. “They’re close. Too close.”
Wooyoung grabbed his coat and weapons with practiced speed. “Then we’ll give them ghosts to chase.” The next hour blurred into motion—saddlebags packed, fire doused, tracks swept clean. When they lifted you onto the horse this time, there was no teasing, no softness—only urgency.
They rode hard, the world spinning past in streaks of gray and green. The wind tore at your hair, the forest seeming to close in around you as they climbed higher into the hills. By dusk, you reached another hideout—an empty country house tucked deep within a ravine. The air smelled of damp curtains and oak, the only sound was the rush of a nearby stream.
Wooyoung dismounted first, offering you a hand with his usual swagger. “Home sweet home. Cozy, isn’t it?”
Yeosang shot him a warning look. “We’ll stay here until it’s safe. No fires in the front rooms tonight.”
You stood there in the fading light, heart pounding, the realization settling like a weight in your chest: you were far from rescue now. And yet… When Yeosang’s hand brushed yours as he passed, steady and sure, and when Wooyoung’s low laughter rippled through the cold air, something deep inside you betrayed its fear for curiosity.
They were outlaws—beautiful, dangerous, unpredictable.
And though every instinct screamed to run, you couldn’t deny the truth that scared you most of all: You didn’t want to.
The days that followed blurred into something dreamlike—half dread, half fever. The country house sat in a hollow between the hills, swallowed by fog each morning and veiled in silence by night. Time felt different there; each hour lingered, heavy with the scent of oak, smoke, and something unnamed. The house must have been a summer home with the state of the dust on the mantles and stairs, sheets covering the furniture in the main rooms and the larder and cooks quarters were bare.
You were never left alone, though they rarely confined you. Wooyoung was a constant presence—restless, bright, and dangerous, like fire catching wherever it pleased. He laughed often, moved with an ease that made you forget, for moments at a time, that he was the sort of man who could end lives as easily as he charmed them.
Yeosang, in contrast, was composed. He watched more than he spoke, his stillness somehow louder than Wooyoung’s noise. When he handed you bread or adjusted your cloak against the chill, his touch was brief but careful—as if he feared both frightening and indulging you.
At night, they kept watch by turns. The farmhouse had no windows in the back of the house for properly keeping watch, just the ones that looked towards the empty barn. You slept in rooms that had no windows facing the road by the hearth when a small fire was allowed, the flickering light catching on the curve of Yeosang’s jaw where he sat sharpening his blade, or the lazy sprawl of Wooyoung stretched across a bed, humming under his breath.
It should have terrified you. Instead, you found yourself studying them—how Wooyoung’s laughter softened when he thought you weren’t listening, how Yeosang’s eyes seemed to linger on you longer each day before he turned away.
One evening, as the mist rolled in thick and cold, Wooyoung tossed you an apple he’d stolen from some unseen farm below. “For the lady in exile,” he said, his grin crooked.
You caught it clumsily, startled. “You make this sound romantic.”
“Isn’t it?” he said, stepping closer. “A beautiful captive, hidden away in the wild with two handsome thieves? It’s the stuff of ballads.”
You tried to scoff, but it came out softer than you meant. “In the ballads, the lady escapes, saved by the handsome soldier or her betrothed.”
“Maybe,” he said, his tone dropping, “or maybe she doesn’t want to be saved in this ballad.” Your breath caught, eyes widening.
From his place by the fire, Yeosang’s voice broke the moment—calm, level, but weighted. “Enough, Wooyoung.”
Wooyoung only laughed, retreating a step, mischief sparking in his eyes. “He hates when I flirt,” he murmured to you. “Pretends he’s above it.”
“I don’t pretend,” Yeosang said, glancing up. “Some of us still remember why we’re here.” You looked between them—two sides of danger, fire and shadow—and for the first time you wondered what had brought them to this life.
Later, when Wooyoung slept, you found Yeosang outside, standing beneath the skeletal trees. The fog clung to him, silvering his hair, softening the harshness of his face. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said without turning. “It’s colder than it looks.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, shivering.
He was silent for a while. Then, “Your father’s men are still searching. If we’re careful, we’ll be gone before they come this far.”
“Gone?” you asked quietly. “And what happens to me then?”
Yeosang turned finally, his expression unreadable in the half-light. “You go home.”
The word home tasted foreign now. “And you?”
He hesitated. “We disappear.”
You met his gaze, heart hammering. “Will you miss me?”
The smallest flicker crossed his face—something like surprise, then restraint. “You ask dangerous questions.”
You stepped closer, emboldened by something you couldn’t name. “So do you.”
The air between you seemed to thrum with the same unspoken thing that had haunted every glance, every brush of fingers, every word left unsaid since the night they took you. For a heartbeat, you thought he might close the distance. His eyes softened, the mask of control slipping—just for a moment. Then he stepped back.
“Go inside,” he said quietly. “Before Wooyoung wakes and decides to start another ballad.”
You obeyed, but the chill that followed you in wasn’t from the cold. It was from the weight of what hadn’t happened—and the dangerous knowledge that both of you had wanted it to.
The fog that morning was heavy enough to hide the valley below, thick as breath on glass. You woke to the low murmur of voices—the cadence of men who’d seen too much dawn.
Wooyoung stood near the doorway, a folded letter in his gloved hand, his grin half-curved though his eyes gleamed sharp. Yeosang read over his shoulder, jaw tight, the firelight carving pale lines of tension into his face.
When they noticed you stirring, Wooyoung lifted the letter. “Good news, princess. Seems your noble father’s decided you are worth a small fortune after all.”
Yeosang’s tone was quieter, more measured. “A courier brought word at the edge of the forest. They’ve agreed to pay—silver, gold, and safe passage if we deliver you unharmed.”
You sat up slowly, heart twisting. “So… it’s almost over?”
Wooyoung laughed, though it didn’t sound quite genuine. “Don’t sound so disappointed. You’ll be back to velvet gowns and marble halls in no time.”
Yeosang spread the parchment across the table. “We’ll meet their man at dusk tomorrow, north of the ridge. You’ll stay here until then. Wooyoung and I will ride ahead at first light to set the terms.”
You watched them as they began to plan—two men bound by danger and trust, their words clipped and efficient, their gestures sharp. They spoke of timing, of routes, of how to vanish again once the ransom was theirs. And beneath it all was the quiet, steady awareness that soon, you’d no longer belong to their strange, shadowed world. You should have felt relief. Instead, something hollow bloomed in your chest.
When they finished, Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, smirking faintly. “Almost seems a shame, doesn’t it?” he said, eyes flicking to you. “You’ll forget us the moment your father wraps you in silk again.”
“I won’t forget,” you said before thinking.
Yeosang looked at you then, his gaze unreadable. “You should. It’s safer that way.” But you couldn’t. Not when you could still feel the warmth of their laughter in the cold air, the memory of Yeosang’s careful hands, the echo of Wooyoung’s teasing drawl.
When they left to prepare the horses, you stood by the window, watching the mist twist through the trees. The ache in your chest grew unbearable. You wanted to go home, yes—to safety, to your name, to your father’s world. But you wanted them to remember you, too—to remember the girl who had lived, for a handful of stolen days, in their ruin of a house, who had shared their fire and their silence.
You wanted to leave a mark that lingered when the gold was spent and the roads swallowed their names again. But how could you? What could a captive give to thieves who had taken everything and yet somehow given her something she’d never had before—freedom of a kind that terrified and thrilled her in equal measure?
As night fell, you sat by the dying fire, turning the thought over and over like a coin between your fingers. A look, a word, a gesture—something small, but lasting. Something they’d carry long after you were gone. And though you didn’t yet know what it would be, you knew one thing with painful clarity: When they took you to that final meeting, you would not leave them untouched.
By the time they returned, dusk had begun to gather over the ravine. The air was sharp with the scent of pine and rain, and the farmhouse looked lonelier than ever, half-sunk into shadow.
Wooyoung entered first, dust clinging to his boots and the wind still caught in his hair. His grin was quick, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Yeosang followed, silent, composed, but there was something in his shoulders—an exhaustion or restraint—that hadn’t been there before.
“It’s done,” Yeosang said, unbuckling his gloves. “We’ll ride before dawn. The exchange will happen just before the forest’s edge. You’ll be home by midday.” Home. The word settled heavy in the space between you.
Wooyoung dropped his gear onto the table and offered a lopsided smile. “One more night with us, princess. Better make it count.” You tried to smile back, but the ache in your throat made it impossible.
That night, the fire burned low. The air seemed to hum with the things none of you dared say. Wooyoung was unusually quiet, his usual teasing gone; Yeosang sat opposite you, his gaze fixed on the flames as though memorizing their dance.
When the silence grew too heavy, you stood. “I… I wanted to thank you. Both of you.”
Yeosang looked up, surprised. “For taking you?”
“For not hurting me,” you said softly. “For treating me as something more than a ransom.”
Wooyoung’s grin returned, though faint. “Don’t make us sound like saints, princess.”
“Maybe not saints,” you said, “but not villains, either.” Your dress lay folded on a chair in the corner, your stockings, petticoats were hidden within but your gloves were simply sitting atop them all you decided that they could be sacrificed. You crossed to the table where Yeosang’s dagger lay—its hilt worn, its edge clean. Carefully, you cut into the no longer pristine white fabric, dirty from when you’d first been taken, and wrapped it around the hilt before setting it down again.
“A memento,” you said when they both stared. “So you remember that I existed. That I wasn’t just another name to be traded for gold.”
Wooyoung’s smirk faltered, and for once, he said nothing.
Yeosang’s expression was unreadable, but his voice came low. “You shouldn’t want to be remembered by men like us.”
“Maybe not,” you said. “But I do.” The words hung there, fragile and true.
Something flickered between them then—an unspoken understanding. Yeosang rose, closing the distance until he stood a breath away. His eyes searched yours, shadowed, uncertain. “You’ll be safe tomorrow,” he murmured.
“And you?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.
He gave a faint, humorless smile. “We’re never safe. But we’re alive.”
You reached out before you could stop yourself, fingers brushing his sleeve. He caught your wrist, gently, as if memorizing the shape of it.
Behind you, Wooyoung’s voice broke the silence—quiet, but weighted. “If you ever get bored of marble halls and fine suitors, sweetheart, you’ll know where to find ghosts like us.”
You turned toward him. His grin was crooked again, but there was something softer beneath it—a sadness, maybe, or longing carefully hidden.
“I’ll remember that,” you said.
And for a long moment, none of you moved. The fire hissed softly, throwing light and shadow across the three of you like a memory already fading. Until something shifted suddenly.
Yeosang pulled gently on your arm causing you to almost stumble but he caught your waist before pressing his lips against yours tenderly in a chaste kiss, which made you gasp. His lips continued moving against yours slowly until you responded letting him pull you against his chest, his hand moving to hold your hip. A chair scraped against the floor followed by quick moving steps before two more hands came to rest upon your body.
"You can't have her all to yourself, Yeosang." Wooyoung smirked lips plump lips moving to press against your neck kissing down towards your shoulder.
Yeosang groaned against your lips pulling away from you allowing Wooyoung to spin you around his own mouth claiming yours, his kiss more urgent and intense. "Wooyoung, we can't steal this from her." He breathed letting his hands slowly run down your body making you shiver as he did. Your shocked intake of breath allowed Wooyoung to slip his tongue between your parted lips. "Wooyoung."
His lips left you leaving you feeling flustered and light headed as warmth flooded your lower body and ache you had never felt beginning to bloom in your belly. "No one will ever know, Yeosang" Wooyoung's silken voice was softer than you had even heard.
You held your breath until Yeosang spun you back to face him looking deeply into your eyes before kissing you once more, you allowed him to deepen it following his lead when his tongue danced with your own soft whimpers falling from you that made his hands tighten when they gripped you. "There is no going back from this," his voice tighter than before, "if you let us both of us will have you again and again until morning."
You nodded mutely, your breath already coming out in small pants as Wooyoung's hands wandered up your sides to cup your breasts, making you yelp. Yeosang cut the noise off by pressing his lips to yours again.
"Our first Lord's daughter." Wooyoung teased gently, carefully unbuttoning the shirt that had kept you covered from them now falling away in the glowing firelight exposing your flesh to them achingly slowly. "Such a precious jewel. We will make you sing for us."
The shirt fell from your shoulders leaving you in only your shift and the trousers your already pebbled nipples poking through the soft, almost sheer linen. "So beautiful" Yeosang whispered in reverence as Wooyoung tugged the trousers down your legs "Just for us."
You swallowed hard, you had always thought this moment would happen on your wedding night, your new husband being the first and only man to touch you so freely and intimately, but instead it was Wooyoung who pulled you from Yeosang's arms and into his sitting on the old heavy linen settee against the wall. Your shift bunched around your thighs as you settled atop his hard thighs Wooyoung's calloused hands running up your warm thighs. He let you watch his hands as he unbuttoned his own shirt, the ridges of the muscles that he earned through years of fighting appearing in front of your eyes, making you burn in a way you never had before.
Yeosnag's voice cut through the fog that was clouding your mind. "You aren't going first Wooyoung." The raw desire that dripped from his words making goosebumps erupt across your flesh. Wooyoung let go of you, helping you stand on your trembling legs before pushing you towards Yeosang, an unreadable look in his eyes. Yeosang was already unclothed from the waist up, his pale skin almost glowing in the flickering light from the hearth, the top of his trousers already undone and hanging loose. His hands came to your shoulders slowly dragging the strap of your shift across your collarbone until they slipped down your arms, the entire shift fluttering down until it pooled on the floor around your feet. You stood bare before him, his eyes seemed to burn as they drank you in pulling you closer until you were pressed against his chest.
"You are so beautiful" he whispered lifting you easily to lay you on the bed that they had allowed you to rest on, climbing over you rest between your legs his lips pressing against your chest tracing his way up your throat to your lips leaving a trail of tingling skin that felt like it was on fire.
"Yeosang" you sighed, arching softly against him.
His lips stilled against your throat, a quiet groan rumbling through his chest.
The bed dipped beside you, Wooyoung moving in to claim your lips again while Yesosang moved from where he lay sliding himself down your body kissing and nipping at your skin as he did until he pushed your thighs apart with his rough hands and pressed his face against you his tongue licking a long slow stripe through your folds. You cried out overwhelmed by the feeling of it only for Wooyoung to swallow down your sounds. Flicking his tongue against you, your whole body jolted as he continued flames licking at your belly growing by the moment until you couldn't hold it. You felt like you were floating tethered only to the world by Wooyoung's lips and his hands holding your face. Then you felt the stretch, in your fuzzy mind you couldn't feel anything else except the fullness that came as Yeosang filled you. His hips stilling as they met yours until you adjusted to him.
Your body felt like you were feeling too much but not enough "Please. Yeosang." Your whimper made both of them grunt before Yeosang began to move his slow steady rhythm making you feel things you had never felt before. Soft whines and mewls fell from your lips as you began rolling your hips, the pressure in your belly slowly growing again.
A deep moan fell from Yeosang lips as you closed your eyes in bliss only for him to pull himself from you and cover your belly in thick ropes of his warm seed "Such a good girl" he whispered moving away from you to let Wooyoung to take his place.
Wooyoung pulled you up, placing you in his lap and impaling you on his hard, long manhood, his hands holding your hips tightly helping you to move despite the change of stretch you were feeling "That's it princess, take what you want." He gently rolled his hips to meet you creating even more friction as your bodies met over and over again causing your head to fall back while the pleasure inside you buzzed back to life.
"Oh. Oh my. Wooyoung." You whimpered feeling like you were wound like a tight string just waiting to snap. Then you did your walls fluttering and your legs shaking making him grunt loudly pulling himself from you quickly and spilling his seed on your thighs and stomach.
Yeosang gently wiped you clean, letting you lean back against his chest as you tried to catch your erratic breath. "We could never forget you now, even if we wanted to."
Wooyoung chuckled, stealing you from Yeosang and turning you to face him, letting you steal a kiss from Yeosang's plump lips as Wooyoung sank back into you from behind making you sob "Should have taken you sooner, princess." He teased before Yeosang claimed your lips again.
When the embers finally dimmed, you lay awake long after they slept—listening to the steady rhythm of their breathing, the quiet hum of the forest beyond the walls, and the slow breaking of your heart.
Because come dawn, you would be free. And yet every part of you knew: freedom had never felt less like escape.
a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies as always your love and support mean the world to me xx
Pairing: Matz x Reader
Word Count: 4.8K
Genre: Gothic Romance, Thriller, Smut
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities
a/n: In the interest of all hallows eve I offer you my first attempt at gothic romance. This was inspired by Mary Shelleys Frankenstein
He has created what he thinks is perfection and you have ruined it all
The rain had not ceased for three nights. It drummed against the iron shutters and trickled down the glass in silver veins, a heartbeat against the silence of the house. When you woke, your wrists were bound—not cruelly, but carefully, as if someone feared you might hurt yourself before understanding why you were here.
The room smelled of ozone and candle wax. Shadows of strange machinery loomed against the walls—coils of copper wire, glass tubes glowing faintly blue, and a table stained with something dark and sticky.
And then he stepped from the corner. Dr Kim Hongjoong.
He was small in stature, but his presence filled the air like static before lightning. His eyes burned with sleepless brilliance, pupils like pinpricks of black glass. “You’re awake,” he said softly, almost reverently. “Good. You’re the one I’ve been waiting for.”
You struggled against the bindings. “Where am I?”
“A sanctuary,” Hongjoong murmured, circling the table. His hands were covered in thin leather gloves, streaked with soot. “And a tomb, depending on what you make of it.”
Your gaze darted toward the door, but it was sealed with iron bolts. “You can’t keep me here.”
“I can,” he said simply. “And I must. You’ll understand soon.”
He gestured to the far end of the room, where a shape lay under a linen sheet. Human in form, motionless. Candlelight flickered across its outline—a shoulder, the suggestion of a face too perfect to belong to something dead.
“Do you believe,” Hongjoong asked quietly, “that love can resurrect a soul?”
You stared at him, horror curdling your blood. “What have you done?”
“What was necessary,” he said. “The world is filled with cruelty and ignorance. So I built something better—someone better. But he is… incomplete. He has strength, grace, even thought—but not warmth. Not feeling. Not a heart that beats for another.”
He stopped beside you, his expression softening into something that looked almost like pity. “That is where you come in.”
Lightning flared through the window, and the sheet on the other table moved. A sound—ragged, wet, uncertain—escaped the thing beneath it. You gasped, every muscle freezing as Hongjoong’s lips curved into a smile both triumphant and mournful.
“He wakes,” he whispered. “My beloved creation. My Seonghwa.”
When the sheet slid away, you saw a young man—beautiful, terrible in his stillness. His eyes opened: silver-grey, as if they reflected the storm itself. For a long moment, he looked at nothing. Then his gaze found you.
And something—something achingly human—flickered there.
Hongjoong stepped between him and you, his voice fevered. “You see? He recognizes you already. You are the key. The warmth he needs to become whole.”
You shook her head, trembling. “You can’t force someone to love.”
“No,” Hongjoong agreed, tilting his head. “But you can build the conditions for it. You can create love—just as I created life.”
Outside, thunder rolled like divine laughter, and within the manor’s flickering glow, Seonghwa drew a slow, shuddering breath—his first.
Your heartbeat echoed through the silence, and for the first time, Hongjoong’s smile faltered, as if he too realized what he had truly unleashed.
You remained rooted to your spot on the floor, fear rendering you incapable of movement as Seonghwa took a step towards you only to be intercepted by Dr Hongjoong who gently guided his precious creation towards the door sliding the heavy iron bolt against its casing the sharp drag of the metal loud in the quietness that blanketed you between the claps of thunder.
Hongjoong turned back to you momentarily “I will return for you when I need you.” He and Seonghwa disappeared into the darkness on the other side of the door, the hard thud of it closing again and the scrape of metal that followed Hongjoong locking the other side leaving you alone in the suffocating fear and heavy silence of a room you were desperate to escape.
Weeks passed. You only saw Hongjoong. He returned to move you to a room that you were instructed to call your own, a room that served as a nicer cage but still a cage to trap you. Hongjoong had said it was “for your safety,” but the lock on the outside told another story.
There he delivered you food, an occasional book and occasionally to discuss that you would teach his Seonghwa how to emote and love but nothing more. Nothing dispelled your fear or revulsion at what was expected from you but there was little you could do. Escape was impossible without injuring yourself and you did not know where he had taken you in the first place. Winter continued on, your life however did not.
The storms had quieted, but the air inside the manor still thrummed with the echo of it. Every candle flickered as if haunted by the memory of lightning. You sat in the same chair in the elegantly decorated parlor where Hongjoong had left you, wrists now free but too numb to run. Your hopelessness left you broken.
Across from you, Seonghwa stood—alive in the most disquieting sense of the word. His skin gleamed like porcelain beneath the candlelight, too flawless, too still. His eyes moved with unsteady curiosity, as if the world around him were a dream he hadn’t yet learned to interpret.
“Do you know what you are?” Hongjoong’s voice was low, almost tender as he approached his creation.
Seonghwa turned toward him, confusion knitting his perfect brow. “I... feel,” he said slowly, the words forming as if they were foreign on his tongue. “But I don’t understand what it means.”
Hongjoong smiled—a small, sharp thing. “It means I succeeded.” His gaze flicked briefly to you, who watched them with wide, wary eyes. “And she will help you to understand the rest.”
Seonghwa’s head tilted toward you. The movement was almost childlike, yet the intensity in his stare was far from innocent. He stepped closer—hesitant, reverent—his shadow stretching long across the stone floor.
Your breath caught. There was nothing monstrous about him, and yet every part of your body screamed that he should not exist.
“You’re afraid,” Seonghwa murmured. His voice was soft, almost mournful. “Your heart beats so fast.”
“Stay back,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.
He obeyed—but only for a moment. His hand rose, as though drawn by instinct, hovering inches from you cheek. “You’re warm,” he said, wonder lacing his tone. “I can feel it even without touching you.”
Hongjoong watched, still as a blade poised to strike. There was something fractured in his gaze—adoration twisted with envy. “Seonghwa,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “Remember what I told you. She is your mirror. Through her, you learn. You do not desire.”
Seonghwa turned toward him. “But I do.”
The air snapped between them—like the moment before lightning hits.
Hongjoong’s smile faltered. He placed a gloved hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder, but the creature’s expression darkened, the faintest flicker of rebellion kindling in his eyes. “You made me feel,” Seonghwa whispered. “You gave me breath. But I think... I think you gave me too much.”
The candles hissed as if in protest. Hongjoong’s composure cracked for the briefest instant. “You mistake obsession for emotion. She is not yours.”
“And she is not yours either,” Seonghwa said, voice trembling between awe and defiance.
Your pulse roared in your ears as both men—one playing god, one his creation—turned their attention on you. The weight of their gazes was unbearable, electric.
Hongjoong’s expression softened into something almost desperate. “You see what you’ve done?” he whispered to you, his tone somewhere between accusation and plea. “You’ve ruined him already. He was perfect until you looked at him.”
You shook her head in confusion. “I didn’t do anything—”
“No,” he interrupted, voice rising, raw. “You exist. That is enough.”
The flicker of thunder outside threw their faces into violent light—Hongjoong’s wild and trembling, Seonghwa’s serene and tragic. The world seemed to hold its breath.
And then, softly, Seonghwa said your name for the first time.
It was the sound of devotion and defiance all at once. Hongjoong flinched as if struck.
“Get away from her,” he hissed, his hand trembling as it reached for his creation. But Seonghwa didn’t move. His gaze stayed fixed on you, and when he spoke again, it was with a quiet certainty that chilled the air between them.
“She’s the only real thing in this house.”
You swallowed hard watching the tension simmer further Seonghwa seemingly lost in the desperation to touch you and Hongjoong’s barely veiled fury that Seonghwa dared to defy his word. Hongjoong stepped towards you making you shrink back in fear a flicker of anger crossed Seonghwa’s intense gaze, but the anger was not directed at you but at his maker. The moment lasted a heartbeat before he agreed, allowing Hongjoong to take him from the room, leaving you again alone until Hongjoong would return and turn his rage on you.
The manor slept uneasily. Its walls groaned with the weight of age, and every candle burned lower, as though the house itself feared what it was harboring. Months had now passed and you were now sure that you would never return to the life you once knew you would remain in the room you had been given. Hongjoong began providing you with clothing, shabby and well worn but clean at least limiting your contact with Seonghwa unless it was considered, by him, as necessary.
Sometimes, when you could not sleep, you heard footsteps pacing the corridor. Slow, deliberate, almost human.
And then one night, the lock turned and the door opened.
He entered silently, his silhouette framed by the pale blue glow of the night outside. Seonghwa.
He no longer moved with the hesitant wonder of a newborn. There was a precision to him now, an awareness in every motion. He had been watching, learning—especially you.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, sitting up covering your nightgown clad frame with bedsheets. “If he finds you—”
“He already knows,” Seonghwa said quietly. “He always knows.”
He stepped closer, and you could see how his expression had changed since that first night. He looked… older, somehow. Sharper at the edges. The innocence had begun to decay into something more human—curiosity and ache.
“I wanted to see you,” he said simply. “When I close my eyes, I hear your heartbeat. I don’t think I’m supposed to, but I do.”
Your breath hitched. “You’re not supposed to feel anything. That’s what he said.”
A faint smile touched Seonghwa’s lips. “He built me to understand love—but not to experience it. How foolish.” His voice softened, almost wistful. “You can’t study warmth and not burn.”
He reached out, fingers trembling slightly before brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was tentative, reverent—as though he feared you might dissolve beneath it. His skin was cold, yet there was something alive beneath the surface, like the faint hum of an awakening storm.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured. “You look at me as if I’m human. Even when you’re afraid.”
“Because you are,” you said, surprising yourself with the conviction in your own voice.
Something flickered in his eyes—pain, perhaps, or hope. “He says I’m a mirror,” Seonghwa whispered. “That I only reflect what you show me. But I don’t want to be a reflection.”
He turned away then, his jaw tightening. “He watches me like I’m a thing. He touches the marks on my skin as if he’s still molding me. I hate it.”
Your chest tightened at the tremor in his voice. “You can leave,” you whispered softly. “You don’t have to stay with him.”
Seonghwa gave a low, bitter laugh. “Leave? And go where? I have no name outside of this place, no purpose but the one he forced into me.” He looked back at you, eyes dark with something feral. “Except you.”
The door slammed open before you could speak.
Hongjoong stood there, pale with burning fury. “Seonghwa,” he said, voice cold enough to still the air. “You forget yourself.”
“I remember too much,” Seonghwa replied, stepping protectively in front of you.
Hongjoong’s gaze cut like a kinfe. “You were made from my hand. Every vein, every thought—mine. You owe me.”
Seonghwa’s lip curled, the faintest tremor of rage shattering his perfect calm. “Then you should have made me hollow. But you didn’t.”
For the first time, Hongjoong looked afraid.
The candles guttered and died in a sudden gust, leaving only the light of the moon through the window—illuminating Seonghwa’s cold defiance, Hongjoong’s trembling wrath, and your wide, terrified eyes caught between them.
When the darkness settled again, Seonghwa’s voice was a whisper that could have been a prayer or a curse.
“I think, creator, you’ve built your own ruin.”
Seonghwa eventually broke the stalemate retreating from your room followed by Hongjoong who only paused to look back at you with loathing and contempt. The silence broken by the click of the lock on your door and the sound of fading footsteps.
You could not find the comfort of sleep that night. The unease of how vengeful Hongjoong had been left you worried he would return to punish you but he never did. Only when the sounds of the birds waking in the trees outside did you finally allow yourself to relax drifting into a fitful slumber.
Hongjoong’s laboratory no longer smelled of creation. The air was stale with burned dust and candle smoke, the scent of obsession decaying into madness. He stood before the broken apparatus that had once been the heart of his genius, his gloves trembling as he adjusted the knobs and wires that no longer answered to him. The machines hissed and sparked, indifferent to their maker’s fury.
“You forget what you are,” he muttered, though his words were meant for someone who wasn’t there. “You forget who made you.”
Hongjoong knew that every night, Seonghwa vanished. Every morning, he found traces of him—mud at the back door, a candle burned to its base in the east hall, a thread of long black hair near the locked room where you slept.
And every time, rage boiled higher beneath his ribs.
He told himself he was still in control, that the experiment had merely evolved beyond expectation. But when he caught Seonghwa’s eyes across the room—those silver-grey mirrors of stormlight—he saw defiance staring back.
And worse, longing.
“Come here,” Hongjoong commanded one evening, his voice the precise edge of a scalpel. “You’ve been straying. Tell me where you go at night.”
Seonghwa didn’t answer. He stood motionless, his gaze distant. There was a quiet to him now that unnerved even his creator—a quiet full of thought.
“I said come here,” Hongjoong hissed.
At last, Seonghwa moved, slow and deliberate. “I go,” he said softly, “to remember that I am alive.”
Hongjoong’s gloved hand cracked across his face, the sound sharp as splitting glass. “You are alive because of me,” he snarled. “Every heartbeat, every flicker of thought is mine.”
Seonghwa turned his head back slowly, the mark on his cheek catching the candlelight. “Then perhaps you should have made me without a heart,” he murmured. “It seems to disobey you.”
For a moment, Hongjoong could only stare, horror and fascination warring in his expression. Then he turned away, voice trembling with something close to despair. “You’ll destroy everything I’ve built.”
Seonghwa’s reply was almost gentle. “You already did.”
Later that night, when Hongjoong finally slept again. Rain whispered against the windows like secret voices.
The lock on your door clicked softly.
You rose from your bed, pulse quickening even before you saw him—tall, silent, eyes glinting faintly in the darkness.
“Seonghwa…” you breathed, concerned by his presence.
“Quiet,” he whispered, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “He’s awake half the night now. He suspects.”
He carried a lantern this time, its dim flame trembling against his face. He looked almost human in the light—haunted, tender, and terribly beautiful.
“You shouldn’t risk it,” you said. “If he catches you—”
“Then he’ll kill me, probably,” Seonghwa said simply. “But I won’t let him cage you any longer.”
He crossed the room and reached for your hand. His skin was still cool, but no longer lifeless. There was a faint tremor there—a pulse trying to learn how to beat.
“I found a way out,” he whispered. “There’s a passage beneath the east wing. Old foundations—half collapsed, but it leads to the forest.”
You looked up at him, fear and what you thought might be hope colliding in your chest. “Why are you helping me?”
He hesitated, his expression softening with something achingly human. “Because when you look at me, I forget what he made me from. I forget I’m just a mistake stitched together. You make me want to be more.”
Your heart twisted. “And you’ll come with me?”
“I’ll try,” he said, his voice low. “But if he finds me before then… promise you’ll still run.”
Outside, thunder rumbled faintly, distant but returning. The storm was never gone for long here.
He lifted your hand to his lips—not to kiss it, but to feel the warmth against his mouth, to remind himself what he was fighting for.
From somewhere deep in the house came the echo of footsteps—slow, deliberate, knowing.
Hongjoong.
Seonghwa’s eyes darkened. He released your hand and stepped back into the shadows. “Tomorrow,” he whispered. “When I come for you.”
And then he was gone, leaving you alone with the echo of his promise—and the uneasy knowledge that before dawn, the creator would come to reclaim what he believed was still his.
A storm broke just before midnight, the steady regularity of the violent weather mirroring the turmoil within you
Thunder rolled so close it made the windowpanes tremble, and the manor shuddered with every pulse of lightning. You had barely slept since Seonghwa’s last visit — every creak in the hall made your heart leap with dread and hope alike.
This time, it was dread.
The door burst inward with a crash that shook dust from the beams. Hongjoong stood there — drenched from the rain, coat clinging to his frame, eyes bright with the kind of fever that knows no reason.
“So,” he said softly, though his voice trembled with rage, “you’ve turned him against me.”
You stumbled back, pulse pounding. “I didn’t— I haven’t”
“Don’t lie to me!” His hand slammed against the wall, a violent crack echoing through the room. “He was perfect until you. Now he questions, he hesitates, he—” His words caught on a breath that sounded almost like a sob. “He looks at you as if you’re his creator.”
You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You made him human, Dr Hongjoong. He’s only becoming what you wanted him to be.”
“No,” he snarled, stepping closer. “I made him beautiful. Controlled. Obedient.” His gloved hand caught your wrist, wrenching you toward him. “You don’t get to unmake him!”
Pain flared; you cried out, struggling, but he only pulled you closer. His expression was wild now — hatred and longing twisted into one unbearable thing. “Do you think he loves you?” he whispered, trembling. “He can’t. He’s an echo. My echo.”
“Then why are you afraid of him?” you gasped.
The question froze him — just long enough.
Because then another voice spoke, deep and quiet and shaking with restrained fury.
“Let her go.”
Hongjoong turned. Lightning split the window behind Seonghwa’s figure, bathing him in white fire. His eyes gleamed like tempered steel.
Hongjoong’s grip on you tightened. “You came back,” he breathed, half laughing. “Good. You can watch me remind her what she’s meddling with—”
He didn’t finish.
Seonghwa crossed the room faster than a heartbeat, and the impact sent Hongjoong crashing into the wall. The sound of breaking glass, a grunt of pain, the lantern toppling and rolling across the floor. Shadows leapt and twisted like wild spirits.
“Don’t touch her,” Seonghwa said, voice low and trembling with emotion. “Don’t ever touch her again.”
Hongjoong staggered up, blood running from his temple, and laughed — a sound cracked and hollow. “You think you can protect her from me? You are me!”
Seonghwa seized him by the collar and slammed him back again, fury shattering the calm perfection of his face. “No. I am what you could never be.”
For a moment, silence — except the storm.
Then Seonghwa looked to you, eyes softening. “Go. Now.”
You hesitated, torn between terror and concern. “What about—”
“I’ll find you,” he promised. “I swear it.”
Hongjoong’s hand reached toward a shard of glass, his voice breaking with a mix of rage and despair. “You can’t leave me, either of you! I gave you life!”
Seonghwa turned his face toward him — pity flickering in his expression like a dying flame. “And I’m giving it meaning.”
He struck Hongjoong once more, hard enough that the older man crumpled, breath rasping in the flickering light. The storm swallowed the sound.
Then Seonghwa took your hand, fingers trembling — not with fear, but with urgency, with life. “Come,” he whispered. “Before he wakes.”
And as you fled down the dark corridor, past the rooms filled with broken inventions and dying candles, the manor itself seemed to wail — as if the walls knew that the creature had turned on his maker, and that love, once kindled, could burn down even the hands that had created it.
The darkness swallowed you whole.
Rain lashed like whips across the night, wind tearing at your hair, at the tatters of Seonghwa’s shirt as you ran. Behind you, the manor loomed like a dying god — its windows burning faintly with the light of collapsing aspirations.
Seonghwa’s hand gripped yours, firm but trembling. Every breath came with effort, though he never faltered. He was not meant for the cold; the rain hissed against his skin as though the sky itself rejected what Hongjoong had made.
“Keep going,” he urged, voice ragged. “There’s a road beyond the trees.”
You stumbled, mud pulling at your feet. He caught you before you fell, his arms strong around you, his face inches from yours. His eyes — silver in the lightning’s flash — softened. “I won’t let him take you back,” he said.
You could barely speak for the wind. “He’ll follow us.”
“I know.”
He looked back once, toward the burning glow of the manor’s upper windows. Even through the distance and the rain, he could almost feel Hongjoong’s fury like a pulse in the earth.
You reached the tree line, branches clawing at you as you plunged deeper into the woods. The storm roared overhead, but here the world narrowed to darkness and breath.
When at last you paused, you leaned against him, gasping. He pressed a hand against your cheek, thumb brushing away the rain.
“You’re freezing,” he murmured.
“So are you.”
He smiled faintly. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be.”
For a moment, the chaos of the night faded. His forehead rested against yours, and between the thunderclaps, you could hear the slow, uncertain rhythm inside his chest — not steady, but real.
“Seonghwa…” you whispered.
He looked at you as though trying to memorize your face, every trembling breath of you. “If I die tonight,” he said softly, “know that you were the only thing that made me alive.”
Your reply caught in her throat as Seonghwa pressed his cold lips against yours, the softness of them stilling your mind for a moment before his need to prove to you that you were the only reason for his humanity took root in him. His hands grasped at your waist urgently dragging you against him and causing you to stumble. Like the storm raging around you your heart was equally violently beating in your chest at the possibility that there was more for you outside of the past year that you had been confined.
His lips barely left yours when you heard his mumble “Let me show you how alive You have made me.” He lifted you easily, pressing you against the rough tree trunk behind you, his lips moving to press to your throat as he unceremoniously bunched your skirt and petticoats up around your hips, the drenched fabric hanging heavily. “Tell me that you do not want this and I will stop” he pleaded, sounding almost anguished.
“Seonghwa” you swallowed hard as you felt him tear your underwear away before he stopped briefly to let his ethereal grey eyes meet yours his adoration and devotion so easily discerned that you did not say another word allowing him to sheath himself inside you, bottoming out with a loud groan. “Oh Seonghwa” you cried out at the feeling of being stretched so fully, his cock splitting your walls apart with a delicious painful pleasure.
“Your so warm” he shuddered his hips snapping against you forcing your body to bounce against the bark behind you each thrust making you forget how cold you had been only minutes ago, Fire began burning in the pit of your stomach, only to spread rapidly when Seonghwa lifted your legs further to allow you to wrap them around his lithe waist changing the angle of his assault on your now slick folds. His lips claiming yours once more.
The gasps and whimpers that fell from your lips were either stolen by the storm around you or swallowed by Seonghwa himself “Seonghwa please” you whispered as he broke his kiss from you again his eyes squeezing shut as he began snapping his hips against you more harshly the realization that you would be free, that he had saved you and how much pleasure that he was now giving you finally snapped making you scream out his name as your walls spasmed and clenched around him your vision going white for a moment before returning only as Seonghwa pulled himself from you and lent it to kiss you one last time.
Helping you back to your feet and adjusting your clothes he stopped to listen to the storm for a moment “we must keep going.” You continued through the trees, your legs still shaking as you reached the road, muddy and desolately silent.
“Which way, Seonghwa?” you breathed hard looking to your left and seeing nothing but darkness until lightning lit up the sky around you once more showing an endless march of trees ahead of you.
“That way.” He pointed ahead of you and took your hand once again as you both continued against the rain and wailing winds until your legs finally gave out.
“Seonghwa, I’m sorry” you whimpered as you stumbled falling against the rough stone, the still thick forest of trees not looking any different from where you had come from. “I need to rest.”
Seonghwa’s reply did not come— because the woods shuddered with another sound. Footsteps. Metal dragging against the stone of the road somewhere behind you.
A voice carried through the rain, half-shouted, half-broken.
“Seonghwa!”
Hongjoong.
You turned — and he was there at the crest of the road, soaked, blood running down his temple, eyes wild with devotion turned rancid. In one hand he held a length of iron, torn from his laboratory, glowing faintly with the charge of his machines.
“You think you can leave me?” he shouted. “Both of you — you’re mine! My creation, my design, my sin!”
Seonghwa pushed you behind him. “Don’t come closer.”
Hongjoong laughed, a sound that cracked like lightning. “You can’t threaten me. You are me!”
He lunged, iron sparking through the rain. The clash was sudden and terrible — Seonghwa catching his arm, the charge burning his skin, steam rising where it met water. They struggled in the mud, two silhouettes locked in chaos, lightning freezing them in flashes of silver and red.
“Why?” Hongjoong gasped, his voice breaking as Seonghwa forced him down. “I made you perfect!”
“You made me empty,” Seonghwa spat, his hands slick with blood — his own or his creator’s, he couldn’t tell. “And then you taught me how to want.”
The iron rod struck again, wild and desperate. Seonghwa caught it, drove it aside, and the movement drove the sharp end into both of them — Hongjoong’s chest, Seonghwa’s shoulder. The sound was sickeningly final.
Hongjoong froze, eyes wide, rain running over his face like tears. For a heartbeat, the world was silent but for the storm.
Then both men crumpled.
You fell to her knees beside Seonghwa, shaking. He reached for your hand, his breath shallow, lips trembling with the ghost of a smile.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “You’re free now.”
You pressed her hand against the wound, desperate, helpless. “No, no, please—”
Hongjoong’s voice came from the mud, faint and broken. “He was… beautiful,” he murmured, eyes unfocused on the sky. “I only wanted… to make something… that would love me.”
Then he was still.
Seonghwa’s fingers tightened weakly around yours. “Do you think…” He coughed, crimson staining his lips. “…monsters get to love?”
Tears mixed with the rain on her face. “Of course they do,” you whispered, “you already have.”
He smiled once — a fragile, luminous thing — before the storm took the rest of his breath.
When dawn came, the manor was nothing but smoke on the horizon, and you were alone beneath the weeping trees — holding the hand of the creature who had become more human than the man who made him, and the only one that had deserved to be loved.
a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies your support and love means the world to me xx
What i love about this artist’s depictions of women is even the sexualized ones the woman is always genuinely happy and enjoying herself. Frolicking or making funny faces, she’s living her life and looking sexy while doing it, not sitting in a sexual pose for the audience’s view.
My favorite thing is how Hilda is almost always DOING something. She’s out there living her life. She’s not posing coyly for anyone, she’s having her own adventures and it’s not about the viewer at all
Pairing: Sugar Daddy Lee Know x Reader
Word Count: 1.5k
Genre: Smut
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities
a/n: Not edited because I was lazy xx
He became your only client because he couldn't bear to share, but is the money worth all the trouble he brings with him.
"So, if someone asks do I say I'm your girlfriend or just a friend?" you asked watching him place his black card in the bill folder for the moment the waiter returned. Minho's eyes still firmly on his glass of white wine as he mulled over his answer in his head.
"It depends on who is asking" he a shadow of a smirk gracing his perfect lips.
"Will you give me a hint then?" you quirked an eyebrow your fingers trailing up and down the stem of your own glass.
"One of the members or a personal friend of mine, my girlfriend. Someone from the company, the press or a fan just a friend of mine" he shrugged lightly the casual tone of his words not matching the intensity in his dark chocolatey eyes.
"M, I am always discrete" you hummed teasingly watching his posture relax a little even though this was far from the first time you had been in this very discussion with him "Isn't that why you picked me initially?".
"No, I picked you because you were the first girl I actually wanted to fuck" he smiled devilishly, his voice low enough to keep the conversation private "Discrete just helped you get over the line".
The flush that crept across your face was impossible to hide from him and his deep musical laugh told you that he was well aware he was making you squirm, he loved teasing you, whether you were in public or in bed he wanted you flustered he got off on it. The waiter had returned with his card and the receipt leaving the only thing left to do was leave and head back to your hotel room, Minho had already told you he would pay for a room for you both, as Jisung had the night off as well, so you made your way out into the warm spring air. The light breeze fluttered his hair as he helped you into the waiting uber and away from any potential prying eyes.
"How about we order some dessert when we get back?" he asked sweetly, his hand on your bare leg and his thumb grazing your inner thigh travelling higher with every minute that passed.
"I'd love some, maybe some ice cream?" you bite your lip as you looked to him innocently making the corners of his lips lift slightly, his thumb continued to move agonizingly slowly across your skin making you shiver in your seat. Only partially aware that the driver is getting his own show as Minho hikes your skirt up higher to expose your damp lace underwear.
"I think our driver likes what he sees kitten" Minho breathed into your ear kissing your cheek chastely and making your flush deeply the stain running down your neck and across your chest.
"Minho" you gasp trying to close your thighs only for Minho to block you with his hand. You swallowed hard as the driver pulled up to the front of the hotel and Minho exited the car helping you out and straightening the back of your skirt for you, you remained silent only the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floor of the foyer gave your presence away until you entered the VIP suite Minho had generously booked for you to stay in for the next few days. You let Minho roam his hands over your body hiking the skirt of your dress up so he could squeeze the soft flesh of your arse.
"You are going to let me mark this perfect little backside of yours yeah?" Minho grinned cheekily has hand still rubbing over the exposed flesh.
"Depends, M" your almost purr pulling from his grasp and moving further into the room.
"On what my little kitten?" Minho smirked looking you up and down while licking his lips in anticipation.
"On how good you want me to be" you whisper tantalizingly slowly feeling yourself get embarrassingly wet just from the hungry look in his eyes.
"Oh? I thought you were my best girl?" his voice lowered the huskiness in it far more obvious as he moved towards you caging you against the wall "my good girl".
"Always M" you smiled sweetly looking up at him through your fluffy lashes for a moment before he crashed his lips against yours, his tongue slipping between your parted lips to tangle with yours while you gripped his shirt. Once again his hands slid under your skirt only this time, they tugged your soaked underwear down your smooth thighs roughly just about tearing the fabric. You let him take the lead and take what he wanted from you, always happy to please him since he always gave as good as he took.
"Strip" he panted catching his breath from the heated kiss. You unzipped the small zipped on the side of the dress letting it fall to the soft carpeted floor with a dull thump before unclasping your bra to leave you completely exposed to him.
"So gorgeous" he muttered his hands caressing your skin reverently before he dropped to his knees in front of you picking you your leg and hooking it over his shoulder as he leaned in and licked a long fat stripe through your glistening folds.
"Fuck M" you whimpered sliding your fingers into his hair while he ate your cunt like a starving man, his tongue flicking your clit relentlessly as his fingers slipped into your entrance easily stretching you for him to fuck later. Pushing a third finger between your wet velvety walls he curled them making you see stars and claw at his scalp. You heard him grunt against your slit the vibrations amplifying your pleasure even more. You could feel your walls starting to clench around him, quivering at the edge of your high when he pulled his digits from you with a wet pop, leaving you whining loudly.
"You're only coming on my cock tonight kitten" he teased as your high evaporated letting your foot hit the carpet again he moved you towards the floor to ceiling windows, turning you and pressing your face and tits against the cold glass, a delicious shock to your system, your gasp turned into a high pitched keen as he lined himself up and slowly bottomed out inside you. His thick heavy cock brushing against all your favorite spots. You braced yourself against the glass your hands and chest pressed against it while you turned your head to look back at Minho, that was when the first smack to your round cheeks echoed around the room making you bite your lip as you remained impaled on his cock.
"M, more. Please" you pleaded pushing your hips back against him to fuck yourself on his throbbing dick. Minho laughed breathily his hand slapping against your skin again your flesh already flushing red to match your face.
"Good girl, get yourself off like this, use me" he groaned smacking your other arse cheek before rubbing where the red hand print was already forming, you did as you were told rolling your hips again and again as he continued to slap your cheeks whenever he felt like it leaving perfect outlines of his hands on each side.
"M. Christ. M" you moaned as you felt your belly tightening and your walls tighten around him again.
"Cum kitten" Minho ordered softly his voice thick with lust "cum for me".
"Minho" you sobbed letting go and coming hard around him your legs shaking and your eyes rolling back in your head. Minho took over from you continuing to fuck you through your orgasm until you regained breath.
"Good girl kitten" he grunted picking up his pace, hips slapping against your already red and tender arse as he desperately chased his own high. The glass around you had fogged up with your harsh breaths your drool smeared where your face had been pressed but Minho kept going his cock brushing against your cervix and making your sob as your body started shaking again.
"M" you hiccupped softly as you felt the tightness in your pussy grow with alarming pace "M, I can't".
"Take it kitten, I know you can" he growled slapping the tender flesh of your backside again.
"Can't....can't" you sobbed as the pressure grew until Minho slipped his hand around your hip and pressed his fingers against your aching clit. Minho moaned loudly as your whole body went rigid your second orgasm hitting you so much harder than the first your walls spasming around his cock before you felt your essence gush out of you and down your thighs, covering you and Minho in your sticky fluid.
"FUCK" he yelled his hot seed pumping into you as you sagged against the window your whole body going lax, Minho held you up kissing your hair softly as he regained his breath before helping you to the bed on your wobbly legs and laying you down gently.
"That was intense" you smiled accepting the water he got you.
"That is exactly why I chose you" he grinned deviously his fingers trailing slowly across your still bare skin.
a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies. As always I am forever indebted to you for all of your likes, reblogs and comments xx
I need to bring to your attention a distressing rumor circulating about Mingi
Apparently someone on tiktok accused Mingi of wearing hip pads. It's come to this. Antis spent all day yesterday accusing us of chart fraud and now they’re accusing us of lower body fraud.
Like this is the same man who got his ass stuck in the rails at Music Bank.
Predictably, the fandom rose to Mingi's defense:
JUSTICE FOR MINGI'S HIPS!!
Phoenix Ascending @skersey34 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
