❤︎ so overly protective. he’s not overbearing and he’ll never try to be that way but he’s always on the phone with you. texting, calling, or keeping track of where you are and if you’re safe or not. bad guys always find him.
❤︎ “princess? I didn’t mean to wake you but.. need you”
❤︎ his large strong hands are always on your waist or thighs. it’s just his thing, he loves those parts of your body the absolute most. if you ask him? he’d shrug his shoulders. not being able to answer. for some reason he loves your waist and how perfect it is. his hand fits perfectly on that spot and your thighs are so warm.
❤︎ “why are you so pretty, hm? my sweet pretty girl.”
❤︎ adores when you show up to watch him work out or practice. let’s say he’s in the ring! just for practice but it’s a bit of a rough practice. actually hitting and using a lot of new techniques. when he’s able to turn and look at you? he’s put back in the zone. you ground him.
❤︎ “I love you. I love you so much.. I can’t lose you.”
❤︎ insanely touching and LOVES cuddles. he’s so into cuddles that even when you’re cooking or baking he’s in the kitchen with his arms around you, swaying back and forth. humming softly or just talking to you about whatever it is that he wants to talk about. he loves it.
❤︎ “do you believe in fairytales? want to talk about it?”
❤︎ big on kissing. so big on kissing. kisses you so so much because he believes that’s how you show how much you love a person. his kisses are soft and very emotional. other times? it’s a bit more hot, wet, and a little needy. he wants you. needs you. all the time.
Pairing: Kim Gun-woo x Pregnant! Reader
Word count: 4.3k
Summary: you get kidnapped (almost).
you get your hair pulled (rude).
you accidentally reveal you’re pregnant (worse).
Warnings: home invasion, mentions of pregnancy, physical violence
a/n: i just finished season 2 of Bloodhounds and i’m sorry i just can’t stop picturing dad!gun-woo 😭
ALSO season 2 dropped and y’all are still not writing about the boys??? fine. i’ll do it myself.
☆ you can read part 2 here
─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────
The apartment was quiet that night, too quiet, in the way that made the absence of sound feel like something pressing against your ears instead of something peaceful. You had been sitting on the couch, one hand absentmindedly resting over your stomach, thumb tracing the same small, unconscious pattern over fabric, over skin, over something that still didn’t feel entirely real even a month later.
Pregnant.
Even now, the word didn’t land cleanly. It didn’t settle the way it should have, didn’t root itself into certainty. It hovered instead, fragile and suspended between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.
Across the room, Kim Gun-woo was watching you.
He had gotten quieter since you found out, more deliberate in everything he did, from the way he moved through the apartment to the way he looked at you. He was constantly recalibrating his understanding of the world to account for something new and impossibly important.
“You’re doing it again,” he said after a moment, his voice low but steady, pulling you gently out of your thoughts.
You blinked, looking up at him. “Doing what?”
He nodded toward your hand.
Only then did you realize you were still tracing that same pattern over your stomach, your touch absent but protective in a way that had become instinctive without you noticing.
You pulled your hand back slightly, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t even notice.”
Gun-woo didn’t smile. He rarely did lately, not fully.
Instead, he stood and crossed the room in a few quiet steps, sitting beside you. For a moment, he didn’t move, like he was waiting, for permission, maybe, or for the right way to exist in this new space between you.
Then, slowly, he reached out towards your belly.
His hand hovered first, the same way it had that first day, like he was still learning where it was safe to touch. You took his wrist and guided him down again.
He exhaled softly when his palm rested against you, his fingers spreading just slightly, careful, grounding. There was still nothing to feel. No movement. No sign that anything had changed beyond the knowledge itself.
And yet, everything had.
“We should leave,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter now, more controlled.
You frowned, looking up at him. “Leave?”
“For a while.” His gaze didn’t leave your face. “Until this is over.”
You already knew what he meant.
Im Baek Jeon.
The name didn’t need to be spoken anymore. It existed between all of you, heavy and unavoidable, shaping decisions before they were even fully formed.
“You don’t think he’ll find us anyway?” you asked.
Gun-woo’s jaw tightened slightly. “Not if we move first.”
From the kitchen, Woo-jin let out a quiet scoff, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. “You say that like we haven’t been trying to stay off his radar this whole time.”
Gun-woo didn’t look at him. “This is different.”
“Yeah,” Woo-jin said, his tone losing its edge as quickly as it had come. “I know.”
Silence settled over the three of you again, heavier than before. Because it was different.
A month ago, the threat had been personal, dangerous, yes, but contained within the boundaries of choices Gun-woo could make, risks he could take, consequences he could accept for himself.
Now, it wasn’t just him. And that changed everything.
“We can’t run forever,” you said quietly.
Gun-woo’s hand tightened just slightly where it rested over yours, his thumb brushing your skin lightly. “We don’t have to. Just long enough.”
You could see in his pleading eyes that he was desperately just trying to keep all of you safe, in any way he could.
“Can we talk about this in the morning?” you questioned, not having the mental energy to think about it right now. You just wanted to enjoy the feeling of Gun-woo’s hand against your belly and pretend you were just a normal, young and anxious couple like any other.
“Sure”, he agreed, sensing the tiredness in your voice. You kissed him softly on the cheek as a silent thank you.
____
By the time night settled in, the tension hadn’t eased. It rarely did anymore.
You had gotten used to it in small ways. The way doors were always double-checked before bed, the way Woo-jin insisted on keeping his phone within arm’s reach at all times, the way Gun-woo would pause sometimes in the middle of a conversation, his head tilting ever so slightly as if he were listening to something no one else could hear.
It had become routine.
You lay in bed beside him, the room dim, the soft hum of the city outside filtering faintly through the windows. His presence next to you was steady, solid, a constant in a world that felt like it was shifting too quickly beneath your feet.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
Your hand rested between you, your fingers loosely intertwined with his, your thumb brushing lightly against his knuckles in a rhythm that was more for you than for him.
“Are you awake?” you murmured after a while.
There was a slight shift beside you.
“Yeah.”
You turned your head slightly, looking at him even though you knew he didn’t need the light to see you.
“…Do you think they’ll try something soon?”
The question hung in the air, heavier than you intended.
Gun-woo didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was calm.
“Yes.”
Your chest tightened, but you nodded anyway, even though he couldn’t see it.
“Okay.”
His grip on your hand tightened slightly, just enough for you to feel it.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said quietly.
You shifted closer, resting your forehead lightly against his shoulder. “I know.”
“Try to sleep”, he whispered, while softly kissing your hair. “Baby needs you to rest”.
With his warm hands holding yours, you closed your eyes and tried to relax despite the anxiety that insisted to grow in your heart.
----
It happened at 2:17 a.m.
You didn’t know the exact time until later, when everything was already over and your hands wouldn’t stop shaking long enough for you to look away from the clock on the wall.
At the time, all you knew was that something felt wrong.
It wasn’t a sound, not at first. It was the absence of one, the subtle disruption of something that should have been there and wasn’t anymore. The faint hum of the security system, the almost imperceptible white noise you had gotten used to without realizing it.
Your eyes opened slowly, your body still heavy with sleep but your mind already sharpening, pulling you toward awareness before you could fully understand why.
Beside you, Gun-woo stilled.
You felt it immediately, the shift in his breathing, the way his body went from relaxed to coiled in an instant, every muscle tightening with sudden, controlled alertness.
“…Did you hear that?” you whispered.
“Yes.”
He was already moving before you could say anything else, carefully disentangling his hand from yours as he sat up, his movements silent, precise. The room felt colder without him next to you, the space he left behind too noticeable.
“What is it?” you asked, your voice barely above a breath.
He didn’t answer right away because he was listening.
You could see it in the way his head tilted slightly, his focus narrowing on something beyond the walls of the room, beyond what you could perceive. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until-
You heard a faint sound. A floorboard. Not in your room, but outside.
Gun-woo stood.
“Stay here”, he said quietly.
Your chest tightened immediately. “Gun-woo—”
“Stay here”, he repeated, this time giving you a clear order. “I’m going to wake Woo-jin up.”
You swallowed, nodding even though he wasn’t looking at you anymore, already moving toward the door.
Seconds after, a crash echoed through the house. Something was knocked over, a chair, or maybe a table, followed by multiple footsteps.
Your body moved before your mind could catch up, your feet hitting the floor as you stood, your heart slamming against your ribs hard enough to make it difficult to breathe.
You shouldn’t leave the room, you knew that, but every instinct in your body screamed at you not to be alone. You stepped toward the door just as it burst open.
You didn’t have time to process anything beyond that, just the shape of him, the movement, the hand reaching for you.
Your body twisted sharply as he lunged forward, your hand coming up to shove against his chest with more force than you thought you had. He stumbled back half a step, surprised, but it wasn’t enough.
A hand tangles in your hair, so tight it yanks your head back with a force that tears a scream straight from your throat before you can stop it.
Pain blooms sharp and immediate, blinding in its intensity, your hands flying up instinctively to grab at the wrist holding you, trying to pry it loose.
“Let go—! Let go of me!”
Your voice cracks, panic rising fast and uncontrollable as you’re dragged forward, your balance completely thrown off. Your feet scramble against the floor, slipping, catching, failing to ground you as he pulls harder, forcing you toward the door.
“Move,” he snaps, jerking your head back again.
Another scream rips out of you, raw and uncontrolled this time, your fingers clawing at his hand, your body twisting in desperate resistance.
“Please—!” The word breaks out of you before you can stop it, survival instinct overriding everything else. “Please don’t—don’t hurt me—!”
Your hands drop from his wrist, instinctively, curling inward over your stomach as your body folds slightly around it, your movements shifting without thought, driven by something deeper than panic.
“Please—” your voice cracks again, softer now, desperate in a different way. “Please, I—”
The man holding you pauses.
His grip doesn’t loosen, but his attention shifts, his gaze dropping, following the movement of your hands.
“…Wait.”
The word cuts through everything and the others hesitate.
“What?” one of them snaps.
“Look at her.”
Your breath stutters.
No. No, no, no—
“She’s protecting her stomach.”
Your fingers tighten instinctively where they rest, your entire body going still as the realization settles in the air between all of you.
“…You’re pregnant,” he says slowly.
It isn’t a question.
Your chest tightens so sharply it almost hurts, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts as you shake your head instinctively, denial rising even though you know it’s useless.
“No—no, I—”
The lie dies before it can fully form.
A low laugh escapes him, quiet and almost disbelieving. “Well, Baek-jeon will love the news”.
Your heart drops.
“Please,” you try again, your voice trembling, desperation clawing its way through every word. “Please, don’t—”
“Shut up.”
His grip tightens in your hair, forcing your head back again, and pain explodes across your scalp, your vision blurring as another cry tears out of you.
“Gun-woo!” you scream, the name ripping from your chest before you can stop it, raw and desperate while the man in black tries to drag you down the stairs.
Suddenly, the man holding you is gone in an instant, his grip ripped away so violently it sends you stumbling forward, your knees nearly buckling as you catch yourself against the edge of the first step.
A sickening crack echoes through the room as Gun-woo’s fist connects with the man’s face, the force of it sending him crashing to the ground hard enough that the entire floor seems to shake with it.
“Get away from her,” Gun-woo says, his voice low and unrecognizable, each word punctuated by another hit.
Across the room, Woo-jin is already engaged with the others, his movements fast and aggressive, a curse spilling from his mouth as he blocks a strike and retaliates immediately.
“Bad move,” he snaps, slamming one of them back against the wall.
The room is chaos. But Gun-woo… Gun-woo is something else entirely.
The second man tries to move toward you again, maybe thinking Gun-woo is too focused on the one beneath him to react.
He’s wrong.
Gun-woo shifts instantly, abandoning the first without a second thought, intercepting the movement mid-step. His fist connects with the man’s jaw with brutal precision, snapping his head back before he even has time to react.
He follows through without pause, grabbing him by the collar and driving him into the wall hard enough to rattle everything hanging on it.
“She’s pregnant”, the man says quietly, flashing a sick bloody smile.
“Say it again,” Gun-woo demands, his voice deadly quiet now, his grip tightening.
“She’s pregnant, right?”
There’s no hesitation this time. No restraint. He slams him back again, harder, his fist connecting with a force that leaves no room for recovery, no chance to fight back.
The third man—still struggling against Woo-jin—lets out a breathless laugh despite the situation. “You think this helps?” he spits. “You think beating us changes anything?”
Woo-jin shoves him back hard, knocking the wind out of him. “Shut up.”
But the damage is already done, because the man keeps talking.
“You couldn’t even keep us out,” he continues, his voice strained but mocking. “What happens next time, huh? You gonna watch when we take her for real?”
“To keep her safe,” the man adds, pushing through the pain, “you know what you have to do.”
Gun-woo stills. But that’s all it takes for the words to sink in.
Without hesitation, Woo-jin strikes the man’s face with a punch so strong he passes out instantly.
“Shut up, asshole”.
But it’s too late. Because now, they know.
And worse—
They’ve given Gun-woo a choice.
----
For a moment after the last blow lands, there is no sound.
The kind of silence that follows violence isn’t empty. It’s thick, ringing, filled with the echo of what just happened. Your ears buzz, your breath comes too fast, too uneven, and the room feels like it’s tilting slightly under your feet.
One of the men groans.
Another coughs, dragging in a broken breath as he tries to push himself up from the floor. They don’t fight anymore. They can’t. Whatever confidence they had when they broke in is gone now.
“Get out,” Woo-jin snaps, his voice sharp, still edged with adrenaline. He doesn’t even wait for them to respond before stepping forward, grabbing one of them by the collar and hauling him roughly toward the door.
Gun-woo doesn’t help. He doesn’t need to. The look in his eyes is enough.
The men see it too. You can tell by the way they don’t argue, don’t try to say anything else clever or threatening as they drag themselves toward the exit. One of them glances back once and whatever he sees in Gun-woo’s expression makes him look away immediately.
They retreat the way wounded animals do, slow, uneven, desperate to put distance between themselves and the threat that nearly tore them apart.
The front door hangs open, broken at the frame, creaking faintly as it shifts on its hinges. Cold air spills into the apartment, brushing against your skin in a way that makes you shiver, though you don’t feel cold.
You don’t feel much of anything and your knees give out before you realize they’re going to. You don’t even remember moving from where you were standing, just the sudden absence of strength in your legs as you sink down, your hands catching you clumsily against the floor.
The world feels far away, muted and your hands are shaking.
You notice that first. The tremor is small at the beginning, barely noticeable, but it grows quickly, spreading through your arms, into your chest, until your entire body feels like it’s vibrating under your skin.
A sob escapes you before you can stop it.
“Hey—hey—”
Woo-jin’s voice cuts through the haze first, closer than you expect. He crouches in front of you quickly, his movements urgent but careful, like he’s afraid of startling you further.
“You’re okay,” he says, though his own breathing is still uneven. “You’re okay, it’s over.”
Behind him, Gun-woo hasn’t moved.
His chest rising and falling too fast, his hands still clenched at his sides like he hasn’t fully come back yet. There’s blood on his knuckles, some of it his, most of it not, and his entire body is rigid, like the fight hasn’t actually ended for him.
Woo-jin glances back at him, just for a second.
“…Gun-woo.”
No response.
He tries again, sharper this time. “Hey.”
Gun-woo’s gaze shifts, slow and heavy, landing on you where you’re sitting on the floor, shaking, your hands still hovering uncertainly near your stomach like you don’t know where else to put them.
He moves slowly at first, like his body is resisting the transition from one state to another, from violence to something softer, something human again. Each step is deliberate, measured, like he’s forcing himself to calm down with every inch he closes between you.
He lowers himself in front of you, mirroring Woo-jin’s earlier position, but closer, closer than anyone else is allowed to be. His hands lift slowly, hesitating for only a second before settling carefully on both sides of your face.
“…Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice low and rough.
You shake your head, though the movement is small, unsteady. “N-no…”
“I’m sorry,” he says, the words coming out before he can stop them.
Your head snaps up slightly, your eyes finally focusing on him. “What?”
“I should’ve-” His jaw tightens, the rest of the sentence catching somewhere in his throat. “I should’ve stopped them before they got to you.”
You shake your head quickly, the movement more desperate this time. “You did, Gun-woo, you did-”
“They were inside,” he cuts in, his voice sharper now, edged with something that hasn’t fully settled. “They had you-”
Woo-jin exhales heavily from beside you, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, we’re not doing this right now.”
He shifts closer, one hand coming down gently on your shoulder, grounding, steady, while his other reaches out to shove lightly at Gun-woo’s arm, just enough to get his attention.
“Hey,” he says, more firmly now. “Look at me.”
Gun-woo doesn’t want to, but after a second, he does.
“This isn’t on you,” Woo-jin continues, his tone steady despite the adrenaline still lingering beneath it. “They broke in. That’s on them.”
“They came because of me.”
“Yeah,” Woo-jin says bluntly. “And they left because of you too.”
That lands. Not fully, but enough to make Gun-woo exhale and drop some of the guilt he has holding all on his own.
Woo-jin squeezes your shoulder lightly, his voice softening as he looks back at you. “And you—breathe, okay? You’re safe. We’re here.”
You nod weakly, and squeeze his hand, your way of saying a silent thank you for saying the words you and Gun-woo needed so bad to hear right now.
Gun-woo’s hand shifts slightly where it rests on your arm, his thumb brushing once, grounding both of you.
“…They know,” he says quietly.
The words settle heavily in the room. Woo-jin exhales again, slower this time. “Yeah.”
You swallow, your throat still tight, your voice small when you finally speak. “…What does that mean?”
Gun-woo doesn’t answer right away and that’s worse than anything he could say. The silence is filled with everything he’s thinking, considering and Woo-jin notices it too.
“Hey,” he says quickly, sharper now, his tone shifting in warning. “Don’t go there.”
Gun-woo’s gaze flicks to him.
“I’m serious,” Woo-jin adds, holding it. “We figure this out. Together.”
For a while, no one moves.
The apartment feels wrong now, too open, too exposed, like the walls themselves can’t protect you anymore. The broken door lets in a slow draft of cold air that brushes against your skin, but you still barely register it. Everything still feels distant, like your body hasn’t fully caught up to what just happened.
Gun-woo is the first to pull away.
The movement is abrupt compared to how careful he had been with you moments ago, like something inside him has shifted again—snapped back into urgency, into action.
“We can’t stay here.”
Woo-jin exhales sharply through his nose, nodding immediately. “Yeah, we need to go.”
----
The place Woo-jin finds isn’t home.
You can tell the second you step inside. It’s clean, functional, temporary in a way that makes everything echo just a little too much. The furniture is sparse, the walls bare, the air carrying that faint, unfamiliar stillness of somewhere that hasn’t been lived in long enough to feel safe.
But the door locks. Twice. And the windows are intact so for now, that was enough.
Woo-jin checks everything first. Every room, every window latch, every blind, every possible entry point. He moves with purpose, still riding the edge of adrenaline, but more controlled now, more focused.
“Clear,” he finally says, exhaling as he steps back into the main room.
Gun-woo doesn’t respond right away. He hasn’t let go of you since you arrived.
His hand is still wrapped around yours, firm and grounding, like if he loosens his grip even slightly, something might take you again. His other hand rests at your back, guiding you gently further inside, his body positioning itself instinctively between you and the door even after it’s locked.
“Sit,” he murmurs.
Your body still feels like it’s catching up to everything that happened, your limbs heavy, your thoughts slower than they should be.
The couch is firmer than the one back home. You notice that.
Gun-woo kneels in front of you almost immediately, his gaze moving over you again, searching in that same careful, quiet way. It’s less frantic now, but no less intense, like he still expects to find something wrong if he looks hard enough.
“I’m okay,” you say softly, before he can ask.
He nods, but he doesn’t stop looking.
Woo-jin disappears into another room for a moment, the sound of drawers opening and closing faint in the background, giving you space without saying it out loud.
Silence settles between you and Gun-woo.
Your hand shifts in his, your fingers tightening slightly as you watch him, taking in the tension that hasn’t left his shoulders, the way his jaw is still set like he hasn’t fully come down from the edge yet and the fact that his knuckles still have dried blood on them.
“You need to rest,” you murmur.
His eyes flick up to yours. “I’m fine. I’ll rest later,” he says.
You know better than to argue right now.
Woo-jin comes back eventually, setting a glass of water on the table in front of you, his movements calmer now, more grounded.
“Drink,” he says gently.
You nod, taking it, your hands steadier now than they were before.
He lingers for a second, watching both of you, then exhales and drops into the chair across from you.
“We’ll stay here a couple days,” he says, more to Gun-woo than to you. “Figure out next steps after.”
Gun-woo nods once.
It’s enough. For now, that’s all any of you can manage.
----
After forcing the boys to take a shower, you and Gun-woo climb into bed. The sun will rise in a couple hours.
You lie in a bed that isn’t yours, staring up at a ceiling you don’t recognize, the faint hum of the building replacing the familiar sounds you used to rely on. Your body is exhausted, your mind heavier than it should be, but sleep doesn’t come right away.
Beside you, Gun-woo hasn’t moved.
He’s been like this for a while now, awake, even in the dark, even when he pretends otherwise.
“Are you going to sleep?” you whisper.
“In a bit.”
You turn slightly toward him, studying the outline of his face in the dim light, the tension still there, quieter now but not gone.
“You said that an hour ago.”
You shift closer instead, closing the space between you, your hand finding his under the blanket. His fingers curl around yours immediately, like he’s been waiting for it without realizing.
You guide his hand again slowly down to rest it over your stomach.
You feel him shift closer, his shoulder pressing more firmly against yours as his head dips forward, resting lightly against you. His hand stays where it is, warm, steady, careful.
“…I’m going to fix this,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that it barely disturbs the silence, but close enough that you feel it more than hear it, the vibration of it settling somewhere deep in your chest.
“I will,” he continues, softer now, but steadier in a way that feels less like certainty and more like something he’s forcing himself to believe, something he needs to hold onto so he doesn’t break under the weight of everything else. “Before–”
Then his fingers spread just a little, his palm settling more intentionally against you, and when he speaks again, his voice shifts closer, like it isn’t meant for you anymore.
“…before you’re here.”
“I know you can’t hear me yet,” he continues, his voice dropping even further, softer than you’ve ever heard it, stripped of everything sharp or guarded, “but I’m your dad.”
Your eyes sting suddenly, the feeling creeping in without warning as you listen.
“And I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice rougher now. “For tonight. For everything you don’t understand yet.”
Your chest tightens, your hand instinctively covering his where it rests, grounding him without interrupting.
“I’m supposed to make sure nothing touches you,” he continues, quieter still, like he’s afraid of breaking something fragile. “That nothing gets close enough to hurt you. Or your mom.”
Your vision blurs further, your eyes fully glassy now, tears gathering without falling, held back only by the fragile stillness of the moment. You bite down softly on the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your breathing even, trying not to let it break.
“I’m still figuring out how to do that.”
“But I will,” he murmurs, more firmly now, even if his voice stays soft, the resolve settling into something quieter but stronger. “I’ll figure it out.”
And in the quiet that follows, with your eyes still damp and your chest still tight, something shifts again into something softer, something that feels like the beginning of hope.
And when sleep finally comes, slow and gentle and long overdue–it finds you like that.
Together.
─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────
pls leave a comment or scream with me about dad!gun-woo i need it ❤️
Pairing: Kim Gun-woo x Gn!reader
Genre: Headcanons
Tags/Warnings: Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers ,Mutual Pining, Domestic Fluff, Soft Gun-woo, Protective Gun-woo, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Affection, Hand Holding, Domestic Fluff, Acts of Service, Quiet Romance, Loyal To A Fault, Emotional Support, Mild Possessiveness, Fight Injuries, Gun-woo Falls Harder, Soft Men Deserve Everything.
Masterlist
kim gun-woo | hong woojin | im baek-jeong
Gun-woo falls hard but doesn’t even realize it at first. He just starts showing up more—walking you home, texting you to check if you ate, casually bringing you snacks—and one day it hits him like oh… I’m in love with them.
He’s very physically affectionate, but in a soft, almost shy way. Expect a lot of hand-holding, especially in public. His grip is warm and protective, like he doesn’t want to lose you in a crowd.
He absolutely loves when you come to his boxing matches. Even if he tries to act calm, the moment he spots you in the audience, his whole energy shifts—he fights harder, faster, like he’s proving something just for you.
After fights, you’re his safe place. He’ll sit quietly while you clean his wounds, watching you with that soft, slightly dazed look. Sometimes he winces, but he never pulls away—he trusts you completely.
He’s the type to get flustered over compliments. Call him handsome or strong, and suddenly he’s scratching the back of his neck, smiling shyly, eyes avoiding yours because he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
Loyalty is everything to him. Once you’re his, there’s no second-guessing, no wandering eyes. He’s 100% committed, and he expects honesty in return—not perfection, just truth.
He’s surprisingly clingy in private. Not in an overwhelming way, but he always wants to be near you—arm around your shoulders, head resting against you, or just sitting close enough that your knees touch.
He’s not great with words when it comes to deep emotions, but his actions say everything. If you’re tired, he’ll cook. If you’re stressed, he’ll stay up with you. If you’re hurt, he’ll lose it—not at you, but at whoever caused it.
Protective instinct? Through the roof. If someone disrespects you, his entire demeanor changes. He doesn’t pick fights recklessly, but there’s a very clear line no one should cross—and if they do, they’ll regret it.
He introduces you to his circle carefully, but once you’re in, you’re in. Especially with people like Woo-jin—Gun-woo gets a little shy but also proud, like “yeah… that’s my partner.”
Dates are simple but meaningful. Late-night walks, eating together after training, sitting somewhere quiet just talking or not talking at all. He doesn’t need anything fancy—he just needs you there.
He’s the type to remember small things. Your favorite drink, how you like your food, the way you get quiet when something’s wrong. He notices everything, even if he doesn’t always say it.
If you’re upset, he doesn’t overwhelm you with questions. He’ll sit beside you, maybe gently nudge your shoulder, and wait until you’re ready. But the second you open up? He’s all in—focused, attentive, and completely on your side.
When he finally says “I love you,” it’s simple, direct, and a little nervous—but real. And once he says it, he means it with his entire heart.
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you catch your boyfriend smoking in the attempts of trying to cope with the feeling of guilt that’s eating at him
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst.ᐟ fluff ending.ᐟ mention of smoking as a coping mechanism.ᐟ season two events [lowkey spoilers for ep 1-3].ᐟ canon typical violence.ᐟ
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.0k
you abruptly jolted out of yet another nightmare, the whole situation with the IKFC bad guys has been giving you constant nightmares – mostly about gunwoo getting hurt.. or killed.
the videos you’ve watched from the illegal website of the brutal fights terrified you, how can people possibly pay to see guys fight to the death. no amount of money was worth someone’s life.
and knowing that those awful people want your boyfriend gunwoo to fight to the death made your stomach turn. it made you physically sick.
you took a deep breath in and out, turning to gunwoo’s side of the bed only to find it empty. the room was dark and quiet, almost too quiet.
a red light lit up in your head. anxiety rising in an instant, for weeks you and the rest haven’t felt safe anywhere, even in the hotel rooms provided to you by his dear friend, minbeom.
you jerked out of bed as soon as you noticed the time on the alarm clock – two in the morning. gunwoo should be asleep at this hour considering his healthy lifestyle routine.
food, sleep, exercise – doing everything to stay in his best form, especially now with gangsters on your tail.
deep down you were praying that he only went to the bathroom or something, but once you called out his name, knocking on the bathroom door to no response, your heart started racing.
“babe? gunwoo?” your voice shook, you opened the bathroom to find it dark and empty, just like the bed.
your instincts told you to look out the window, and you weren’t going to ignore them, not when it came to the safety of your boyfriend, or his family.
you moved quick, wasting no time. pulling the definitely expensive blackout curtains out of the way, at first you got a scare, seeing someone standing outside on the balcony.
but you quickly recognised that it’s just gunwoo. you let out a sigh of relief, but the feeling doesn’t stay long with you as you noticed him surrounded by the smoke he exhaled.
you caught your boyfriend gunwoo smoking cigarettes? something he always avoided with a ten foot pole? what was going on here, you thought to yourself. he didn’t even want to be around woojin attempting to smoke the cigar after winning the championship.
you opened the glass balcony door to join him on the balcony, slightly startling him as he obviously didn’t expect anyone to join him, especially at this hour.
“babe, what on earth are you doing?!” you closed the door behind you and walked up to him. stepping closer to the smell of tobacco that clouded around him, and now you.
gunwoo’s first instinct was to hide the cigarette behind him like a kid, then to maybe throw it out. he looked down at the ground with shame, he knew what he was doing wasn’t good for him, he always prioritised his health.
“since when does the box champion kim gunwoo smoke?” you added, gently placing your hand on his arm, trying to get him to look you in the eye.
gunwoo sighed, “i know it’s not an excuse but… it’s just been so stressful lately..” he looked down at the cigarette between his fingers before throwing it out.
“i know it has baby, especially for you.” you spoke to him softly, you weren’t mad at him for trying to find a coping mechanism for all this stress, hell you’d probably be doing the same in his place. you were simply worried about him in general. “you always take so much responsibility for everything…”
“because it’s all my fault..” his eyes softened, you could tell he was fighting a silent battle inside his head.
“sweetie, it is not your fault.” you shook your head, you couldn’t understand how he could even blame himself for all of this, for being stalked and threatened by some dark web gangsters.
“if i just accepted the fight.. you all would’ve been safe, no need to hide my mom in a hotel, woojin wouldn’t have a big gash on his hand.. and you-” his eyes welled up with tears.
“that’s enough. just– come here.” you couldn’t help but pull him into a hug, seeing the guilt ridden expression on his face.
this poor boy needed a hug. he needed someone to pull him out of the negative thought storm that he’s been trying to fight off all by himself.
“nothing–and i mean nothing is your fault gunwoo. do you hear me?” you pulled away just a bit, making sure you are looking into his eyes. your small fists clenching around his hoodie.
“if you would’ve taken that goddamn fight i’d lose you. your mom and woojin would’ve lost you.” you explained, your own eyes welling up with tears. the thought alone broke your heart. you loved gunwoo so much. you all did.
“so don’t you dare blame yourself for this. if anyone is guilty here it’s definitely not you. it’s those bastards that hide behind their dirty money thinking they own the world.” your voice rising slightly at how angry you were with those thugs, making him think it’s his fault.
gunwoo noticed the stray tears falling down your cheeks and at that moment something snapped in him, making him pull you in for a tender kiss.
his lips were so soft against yours with a bitter taste of cigarettes and saltiness of his tears, his big hands framing your face with such gentleness as if he was afraid he’d break you by accident. his iron knuckles bruised from all the punches he gave out hours ago.
you reciprocated the kiss, spilling all your emotions into it. hoping that after tonight, after what you told him, and after this kiss, gunwoo would finally stop blaming himself for everything, and start being a little more angry with those thugs who are trying to ruin his and his family’s life.
he slowly pulled away, his face inches away from yours, tears staining his cheeks. “i’m sorry..” he gently wiped your tears away with his thumbs.
“don’t be.” you smiled weakly. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“it’s cold… let’s get you inside, you’ll get sick.” he whispered before giving him a soft peck and tugging him by the hem of his hoodie.
Note: This is my first shot of a BLOODHOUNDS character, I finished watching it yesterday and it was quite good that I couldn't resist doing a gunwoo one.
The coffee shop lights are already dimmed when you hear the door chime one last time. You’re behind the delivery bar, wiping down the espresso machine for the final round of closing duties. The place smells like fresh-ground coffee and warm pastries that have been sitting under the heat lamps too long. Gunwoo’s mother usually handles the money drop-off herself, but she had to leave early tonight for something. She left you in charge of locking up.
You glance up as he steps inside. Gunwoo. Tall, broad-shouldered, still wearing that black hoodie with the faint smell of sweat. His knuckles are wrapped in white tape, a few spots already turning red. His hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, and there’s a fresh bruise blooming along his jaw. But his eyes, those dark, steady eyes, light up a little when they land on you.
He walks straight to the counter, pulling a thick envelope from his pocket. “Mom’s share from the fight tonight,” he says, voice low and a bit rough, like he’s been shouting or taking hits to the ribs. “She wasn’t here, so…”
You take the envelope, fingers brushing his. His skin is warm, almost hot. “She mentioned you might stop by. Congrats on the win, I guess.”
He gives a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wants to smile but is too tired for it. The shop is empty now. Chairs are up on tables. The sign on the door says Closed. You’re both alone under the soft glow of the remaining overhead lights.
Gunwoo doesn’t leave. He leans on the delivery bar, watching you finish wiping the counter. “You closing alone?”
“Yeah. Last bit of cleaning and then I’m out.” You rinse the cloth in the small sink, feeling his gaze on your back. There’s always been this tension between you two, quiet glances when he comes to drop money, the way he lingers a second longer than necessary. Tonight it feels thicker, heavier, like the adrenaline from his fight hasn’t worn off yet.
He shifts, coming around the side of the bar instead of staying on the customer side. The space back here is narrow. Your hip bumps the edge of the counter as he stops close. Too close. You can see the rise and fall of his chest, the way his hoodie clings to his shoulders.
“You look tired,” you say, trying to keep it light.
“I won,” he answers simply. Then his hand comes up, calloused fingers brushing a stray hair from your cheek. “But I kept thinking about coming here after.”
Your breath catches. The air between you crackles. Before you can say anything else, he leans in and kisses you. It’s not soft. It’s hard, urgent, like all that pent-up energy from the ring is pouring out now.
His lips press firm against yours, moving with a hunger that makes your knees feel weak. You taste salt on him, sweat, maybe a little blood from a split lip.
“Ah—” you gasp into his mouth as his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. He’s solid, all muscle and heat. Your back hits the delivery bar counter, the edge digging into your lower back, but you don’t care. You kiss him back, fingers threading into his damp hair, tugging lightly.
Gunwoo groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips. “Umh… fuck,” he mutters, breaking the kiss just enough to speak.
His voice is gravelly, breathless. He kisses you again, deeper this time, tongue sliding against yours in a wet, messy slide that makes heat pool low in your belly.
His hands roam. One slides under your shirt, palm hot against your skin, fingers splaying over your ribs. The other cups the back of your neck, holding you in place as he tilts his head and kisses harder.
The sounds are loud in the quiet café, the wet smack of lips, the soft click of teeth when you both get eager, your shared heavy breathing.
You moan into it, “Ahg… Gunwoo…” Your body arches toward him instinctively. He responds by pressing his hips forward, letting you feel how hard he already is through his sweatpants. The thick length rubs against your thigh and you whimper, the sensation sending sparks up your spine.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and pupils blown wide. “Been wanting this,” he says, not poetic, just honest and rough. “Every time I come in here… seeing you behind the counter.”
You don’t answer with words. You pull him back down, kissing him again, tongues tangling. Your hands push at his hoodie. He helps, yanking it off in one quick motion along with the shirt underneath. His chest is bare now broad, defined pecs, abs tight from all the training, a few fresh red marks from the fight. You run your palms over him, feeling the heat of his skin, the way his muscles twitch under your touch.
“Umh… yeah,” he breathes out as your fingers trace lower, brushing the waistband of his pants. He kisses your neck, open-mouthed and wet, sucking lightly at the skin until you gasp,
“Ah—!” The mark he leaves throbs pleasantly.
You fumble with his pants. He helps, shoving them down along with his boxers. His cock springs free, thick, heavy, already leaking at the tip. It slaps against his stomach once before he presses it against you again, grinding slowly. The friction through your clothes makes you both groan.
“Take these off,” he says against your ear, voice low. His fingers work your pants open, pushing them down your hips along with your underwear. Cool air hits your skin, but his body heat chases it away as he lifts you onto the delivery bar counter. The surface is smooth and cool under your bare ass. Your legs spread naturally as he steps between them.
Gunwoo kisses you again, hard, passionate, lots of tongue. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider. One finger slides through your folds, finding you already wet. “Ahg… so wet for me,” he mutters, almost to himself. He circles your clit once, twice, making your hips jerk. “Umh…”
You moan loudly, the sound echoing a little in the empty café. “Ah—Gunwoo, please…”
He doesn’t make you beg long. He lines himself up, the thick head of his cock nudging your entrance. Then he pushes in, slow at first, but steady, stretching you open. The burn is good, intense. You both groan at the same time.
“Fuck… tight,” he hisses through gritted teeth. His hips move forward until he’s buried to the hilt, balls pressed against you. The sensation is full, deep, making your walls clench around him.
He stays there a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard. Then he starts to move.
Not gentle.
Hard thrusts that rock the counter, the slap of skin on skin loud and rhythmic. Each push makes your breasts bounce under your shirt. He yanks the fabric up, exposing you, and leans down to kiss and suck at your nipples while he fucks you.
“Ah! Ahg—yes!” you cry out, head falling back. Pleasure shoots through you with every deep stroke. His cock drags against that spot inside that makes your toes curl.
Gunwoo’s pace is relentless but passionate. He kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck, messy, open-mouthed kisses full of tongue and teeth.
“Umh… you feel so good,” he groans, voice breaking on the words. His hips snap forward harder, the wet squelch of your bodies joining obscene in the quiet space.
You wrap your legs around his waist, shoes digging into his lower back, urging him deeper. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in. He hisses at the sting but thrusts even harder, the bar creaking under you.
“Harder—ah—please,” you pant.
He gives it to you.
Deep, powerful strokes that make your vision blur. Sweat slicks both your skins. The sounds are everywhere, your moans mixing with his grunts, the wet slap of his hips meeting yours, the faint creak of the counter.
Gunwoo kisses you again, swallowing your next “Ahg!” as he angles his hips just right. Pleasure builds fast, coiling tight in your core. You clench around him, thighs trembling.
“I’m close—umh—Gunwoo!” you gasp against his lips.
“Me too,” he growls. One hand slides between you, thumb rubbing your clit in firm circles. “Come on… let me feel it.”
The added stimulation sends you over. Your orgasm crashes through you hard. “Ah—ahg—ahhhhh!” Your back arches, walls pulsing around his cock, milking him. Pleasure floods every nerve, making your legs shake.
Gunwoo fucks you through it, thrusts getting erratic. “Fuck—umh—yes—” He buries himself deep one last time, groaning loud and low as he comes. You feel the hot pulses inside you, his cock twitching with each spurt.
He keeps moving slowly for a few more seconds, drawing out the sensations, both of you panting. Then he stills, forehead against yours again. Soft kisses now, on your lips, your cheek, your temple. Passionate but gentler, like he’s coming down from the high.
You stay like that for a moment, connected, breathing each other in. The café is silent except for your slowing breaths and the faint hum of the fridge in the back.
Finally he pulls out carefully. A trickle of his release leaks down your thigh. He grabs some napkins from the counter, cleaning you both up with surprisingly gentle hands.
“You okay?” he asks, voice still rough but softer now.
You nod, smiling a little. “Yeah. Better than okay.”
He helps you down from the counter, steadying you when your legs wobble. Then he pulls you into another kiss, slow, deep. His hands cup your face this time, thumbs brushing your cheeks.
After a while he pulls back, resting his forehead on yours. “Next time… maybe not right after a fight. But I’m not complaining.”
You laugh softly, still catching your breath. “You better bring the money again soon.”
He smirks, just a small one, and kisses you once more before helping you finish closing.
✸synopsis: after running into gun-woo one night at the gym, his raw emotions boil over into a collision of honesty and need he can’t hold back anymore.
✸an: lower case intended, no use of y/n, gn!reader / whenever i see woo do-hwan, i feel like that josh hutcherson meme of him licking his phone; ohhh child
[now playing: eternal sunshine — lou val]
m.list
─────
the gym is nearly dark when you push the door open. only one light is still on — the one above the center ring. it casts everything in gold and shadow, making the ropes look like quiet borders to a world that only belongs to him.
gun-woo is inside that ring.
he’s drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling in fierce, sharp breaths as he lands one last punch on the heavy bag. the chain rattles. the echo shivers through the room.
he stills when he senses you. slowly, he turns. his hair is pushed back with sweat, his jaw tense, his expression something rawer than anything he ever shows in daylight.
“why are you here this late?” he asks, voice low — not angry, but intense in a way that pulls at you.
“i could ask you the same.”
he wipes his forearm across his brow, but it does nothing; he still looks like he’s standing in the middle of a storm. “couldn’t sleep,” he mutters. “too much in my head.”
you step closer to the ring. “about the fight?”
he exhales hard, shaking his head. “about everything.”
there’s a tremor under his frustration — fear, desire, something tangled and heavy. you climb through the ropes and into the dim circle of light. his eyes follow you like he doesn’t know how not to.
“you push yourself too hard,” you say softly.
“and you shouldn’t be here alone with me when i’m like this,” he replies, backing up a step — not afraid of you, but afraid of losing the tight grip he keeps on himself.
“gun-woo,” you whisper. “look at me.”
he does. and it’s like something inside him breaks open.
he crosses the space between you in three strides — fast, decisive — and stops just inches away. his breath brushes your cheek. his hands hover near your waist but don’t touch, fingers trembling from restraint.
“i don’t want to scare you,” he murmurs, voice roughened from training and emotion.
“you won’t,” you assure him in a hushed tone.
he sucks in a shaky breath. “i can’t think straight when you’re here.”
you lift your hand to his cheek, feeling the warmth of him, the tension coiled beneath his skin. he closes his eyes at the touch, jaw clenching like he’s fighting himself more than anything else.
“then stop thinking,” you say softly. “just be here with me.”
he opens his eyes. something fierce and tender burns in them — devotion, longing, fear of wanting too much. slowly — achingly slow — his hands slide to your waist. his grip is firmer than before, like he’s finally stopped running from what he feels.
“you have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers.
your heartbeat stumbles.
“then show me.”
gun-woo’s breath hitches, and then he pulls you in. your bodies meet with a soft, urgent closeness — his chest against yours, warm and solid, his hands secure at your back, not rough but unrestrained for the first time. his forehead drops to your shoulder as he tries to steady himself, breath hot against your neck.
“i don’t want to hold back around you anymore,” he says, voice low and trembling.
“then don’t.”
he lifts his head — eyes dark, vulnerable, overwhelmingly sincere — and kisses you.
it’s deeper than before, more certain, more consuming. his hand slides up your back, then cups the base of your skull, guiding you into the kiss like you’re something precious he’s terrified to lose. his lips move with a hunger he tries — barely — to tame, but his breath keeps breaking against yours, makes it impossible for him to hide how badly he’s wanted this.
when you finally part, both of you breathless, he presses his forehead to yours, chest rising against you.
“i’m scared,” he admits. “of wanting you this much.”
you hold his jaw gently, your thumb brushing his cheek. “then let me be the one place you don’t have to be scared.”
gun-woo lets out a shaking exhale, almost a sigh of surrender. and in the dim, quiet ring, he pulls you close again — tight, warm, certain — like he’s choosing you with every breath.
for a long moment, neither of you moves. gun-woo holds you like he’s afraid the world might reclaim you if he loosens his grip — even a little. his heartbeat presses steady, deep, and overwhelmed against your ribs. his breath is still uneven when he finally pulls back, just enough to see your face in the slant of golden gym light.
he looks at you like you’re the first calm he’s felt in weeks.
“sorry,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “i… i didn’t mean to lose control.”
“you didn’t,” you whisper. “you let go. that’s different.”
he closes his eyes, as if your words ease a knot he’s carried too long.
then, in a low voice barely above a breath, “can we… stay like this? just for a little?”
you nod, and he exhales like he needed that permission more than anything.
gun-woo moves to sit on the edge of the ring, pulling you gently with him until you’re between his legs, your back resting against his chest. his arms wrap around you — slowly, carefully — one around your waist, the other across your shoulders, hand resting over your heart. you feel him soften behind you, the way tension unravels down his spine.
“i don’t let people close,” he admits quietly, his lips near your ear. “not like this.”
“i know.”
“but you…” his breath shakes. “i don’t want to push you away. not anymore.”
your fingers trace over the veins on his forearm, the warmth of his skin. “you’re not pushing me away. you pulled me in.”
gun-woo lets out a soft, helpless laugh against your shoulder — like he doesn’t know how to handle the way that makes him feel. he buries his face in the curve of your neck, breath warm and intimate, but full of reverence more than hunger. his voice is muffled when he speaks. “you make everything feel… quieter.”
you tilt your head, letting your cheek rest against his hair. “so do you.”
he tightens his arms around you — not possessive, not demanding, just full-hearted and honest. his nose brushes lightly along your skin, a shy gesture he tries to hide but can't. after a moment, he whispers, “i kept thinking if i cared too much, i’d lose focus.”
there’s a beat of silence. “i didn’t expect caring about you to make me feel stronger.”
you twist enough to face him, and the emotion in his eyes is almost too tender to look at directly. he leans his forehead to yours again, breathing you in.
“can i kiss you again?” he asks — shy, but determined.
“yes.”
his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair as he pulls you in. this kiss is hotter, deeper, but still so unbearably gentle — like he’s memorizing the shape of your lips, the sound of your breath, the warmth of you pressed close. when you break apart, both of you breathless, he touches his forehead to yours once more.
“stay with me tonight,” he whispers — not meaning anything reckless, just raw, honest closeness. “i don’t want to be alone with my fears. not when i could be with you.”
you take his hands in yours.
“i’m here,” you say. “and i’m not leaving.”
gun-woo exhales in relief, gathering you into his arms again, his cheek resting against your shoulder as if he’s finally found something solid to hold onto. in the quiet, shadowed gym, he holds you like you’re the one thing he refuses to let slip through his fingers.
Author's Note: The Bloodhound boys are still relentlessly on my mind, so I wanted to write a little smutty something about how they would take care of you after you do them the honour of working out with them. Enjoy and please send me all your unhinged thoughts for these beautiful babies 💕
Gun Woo
- It would mean so much to Gun Woo for you to offer to work out with him one morning, his favourite person joining him for his favourite activity. He'd feel like he had an extra boost for every exercise, a wide beaming smile plastered on his face through every exhilarating movement. Unfortunately for you, Gun Woo has sort of forgotten how much exercise the average person can do before they are exhausted, and by the time he's satisfied that he's achieved his goals, you are absolutely wrecked.
- You're not sure how long it's been since you could feel you arms, your legs practically screaming at you every time you took a step, until you had to surrender to just lying on the yoga mat stretched out underneath you and waiting for the end to come. Gun Woo is so ridiculously full of enthusiasm as he comes over to you, wondering what you two should do with the rest of this perfect day, until he watches you try and fail to sit yourself up, and suddenly he realises he might have pushed you a little too far.
"Please can I help?" He asks softly, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that he pushed you too far, worried you're upset with him for each of your many aches. But when you give him a loving smile and raise your arms for him to help you, he's immediately back to grinning, scooping you into his arms bridal-style and carrying you upstairs with you clutched tightly to his chest.
- "Do you want to shower first?" He asks bashfully as he set you down on your bed, watching you fight for your life to pull off your shirt with your arms completely incapable of any strength.
"Maybe you can help me some more?" You roll your eyes at Gun Woo like this was clearly his plan all along, who now looks at you with wide eyes as he realises what you're offering. The moment he thinks through all the opportunities ahead of him, he's violently nodding his head and crouching on the floor in front you, wasting no time easing your shorts down the soft skin of your legs, averting his lustful gaze as he unhooked your bra for you, like he hasn't seen you undressed a dozen times before.
"Thank you Woo," you sighed softly into his ear as he took your weight in his arms again, his face unable to hide his enthusiasm for your body and the intimacy between the two of you.
- He started the shower running as he stripped off his own clothes, the cold tiles against your back keeping you up right until he found you again, firm muscles pressing as tightly against you as he could. A strong grip found your waist and suddenly any showering was half-forgotten, an overwhelming need for your lips the only thing driving Gun Woo forward. The first kiss was slow, long, like he was refilling some unseen need that only your lips could provide. Each that followed was deeper, hungrier, his weight pressing into you and his hands tracing the shape of you, wanting nothing more than to embrace this closeness for as long as he could. You ran your fingers through his hair, spurring him on as he lifted you until your thighs could squeeze his waist, feeling the familiar weight of cock nudging against your folds as his body betrayed just how much this meant to him. Waking up early to spend time with him, letting him train you and keeping him company while he trained, trusting him to undress you and wash with you, feeling every inch of your skin pressed up against him;
- It was more love than Gun Woo knew what to do with when you let eyes meet his, wide and adoring, the simple word "please" slipping from your lips and letting him know you wanted this just as much as he did. In one swift movement his hips bucked up into you, stretching your walls and making your stomach flip. One strong arm wrapped under your hips, supporting you completely, letting Gun Woo thrust into you at his own desperate pace, as his free hand moved to find your clit, needing to feel you squeeze around him before he could enjoy filling you up. His pace was everything you needed, never rushed but more than enough to have the pressure mounting inside you, his lips capturing yours again and again to muffle the needy whines of his name that left you of their own volition. A man of few words, Gun Woo prefered to let out gentle moans and heavy breaths, his eyes so intensely fixed to yours, trying to express the depth of emotion he couldn't quite find the words for. You could feel the ache of your muscles melting away under the warm water and the building pressure in your core, euphoria washing over you as you came undone around him, thigh clenching tightly against his waist as you felt his hips stutter. One long, deep moan left Gun Woo as he bucked his hips frantically into you, burying himself deep inside you as his release came.
Woo Jin
- Afterglow washed over both of you as soft smiles and caressing hands continued into rubbing soap over each other, with Gun Woo convinced that this was the most perfect start to a day he had ever had.
- Unlike Gun Woo, Woo Jin is less focused on the actual chance to work out with you, and far more excited to have a chance to show off his skills to the person he always wants to impress the most.
- He'll make sure to warm you up properly, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around you to show you proper form more times than you can count, before finally he insists you let him show you a few boxing moves on the mat. He's pretty impressed with the way you move with him, taking his coaching very well and giving him the opportunity to show off some of his fancier moves and steps. He can feel his skin start to tingle as your little play fights continue, the way you look with the light sheen of sweat forming over your skin starting to make it difficult for him to focus. You find yourself having the exact same problem, the warmth in your body more due to your proximity to this skilled, muscular fighter, than anything to do with the exercise.
- Sweet, adoring Woo Jin finds himself so increasingly distracted by the tension building between his thighs that he manages to catch his foot as he attempts to dodge your moves, tipping over backwards onto the thick boxing mat beneath him and dragging you down with him. You manage to land with your hips straddling his, the usually confident, flirty fighter suddenly looking almost shy as he stares up at you with wide eyes, hands resting helplessly either side of you. You take the opportunity to lean forward until your lips almost meet his, the sound of your voice almost sending him to an early grave,
"So does that mean I win this round, coach?" Your smile is so mischievous as you let your lips drift down to land a soft kiss against his neck, and suddenly the limits of his self-control have been reached, his hips bucking up to meet yours in need of desperate relief.
"I'm pretty sure I'm the winner here." His voice is a deep haze of lust, hands greedily clutching at your ass so he can grind his aching manhood against you, the feel of your glistening kisses decorating his jaw sending electricity through his skin.
- You never have to tell Woo Jin what you need, he knows your body with the attention to detail of the finest coach in the world, reading into your every touch and expression. His face contorted into an excited smile as he withdrew his fingers from you and tugged your shorts down your legs until he could line himself up with your entrance, waiting for one last needy kiss before giving you exactly what you both needed. It didn't matter that you were on an exercise mat on the floor, the way he celebrated every inch of your body made every time you were with Woo Jin feel like the most romantic moment of your life, his love for you so clear in his every touch. You could feel the familiar tremble of his thighs as you reached the peak of your pleasure, crying out his name in ecstasy and pushing him over the edge, his hips slamming against yours a final few times before finally he collapsed on top of you, still smiling brightly and spilling sweet compliments from his lips.
"You feel like quite the prize to me, Woo Jin." You teased, finding his lips with yours and feeling him smile brightly into the kiss, taking the chance to roll you backwards until he was on top of you, the full weight of his muscles encircling you warmly. Each delighted kiss led to another as his hand skimmed down between your bodies, fingertips slipping underneath the waistband of your shorts, running over your entrance and finding you soaked already.
"I can't believe you're all mine." His words were almost reverent as his fingers dipped inside you, watching your reaction closely and drinking in every soft moan he drew from your lips. The pressure inside you began to build, the need to have Woo Jin closer overwhelming as you tugged at his shorts, pulling his hard length free and pumping him in your hand slowly, his body jerking with sensitivity at the sensation.
Woo Jin offered to exercise with you a lot more often after that!
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