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#and kim gets a little tie

unproduciblesmackdown · 10 months

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i gasped....

and visited the comments on this post via facebook, to find the following:

and after going "?? guess someone met will's mom maybe....?" went Oh Wait, kim theilmann, i Know Of her: meaning, i follow her on twitter because she's a fellow aficionado and winstan specifically lol, she went to bmc at least on broadway, not so surprised if she went to summer stock too. and maybe she is just shouting out beth roland for no especial reason, or has met her Ever, odds seem increased when beth roland is also responding lol although maybe she's just doing the beth roland thing of "looking at the comments on goodspeed facebook posts ft. her son as well and readily replying to anything relevant and going 'my son as well'"

#summer stock #orville wingate #will roland #and uh GOODSPEED post the CLIP....post more pics too #i'll get a digital lottery ticket and paddle a board up the east coast and tie it off on the goodspeed dock (exists) & claim it w/damp cash #also there's mayhaps some ''who is Motivated to go to relevant Webpages & leave Feedback'' bias towards the positive #but people are very ''had a great time loved it would see it again'' in their online feedback lol. i believe it i Know it is a lot of fun..#i mean look at the lads. having fun even via this jpg #and people (who still had the Motivation to post) who have; say; talked about it just on their own twitters also had all positive responses #jokes on you i would've paid ANYTHING to see JUST this jpg of phil & orville's fun little duo piano number waugh #also given the nature of facebook comment display formatting: i can't tell if what kim has entered is ''Beth Roland !!!''#or the identically-displaying ''[@Beth Roland] !!!''#either would make sense here lmao

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hobicakess · 23 days

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RED CHOPSTICKS | 2

SUMMARY: . The Min Brothers were fucking insane

PAIRING: Ganster!yoongi x reader / Law enforcement!AugustD x fem! reader

RATING: 18+ (I am not a babysitter. You're in control of what you consume)

CONTENT WARNING: porn with HELLA plot violence, plus sized reader , afro asian reader , dead bodies , blood , slight gore mention, stalking , twin rivalry , yandere, heavy angst, nonconsensual recording + photo taking , death threats towards innocent people, cheating, mc is very ... not smart! ( for the plot ofc ) , gang violence, reader not having a great relationship with law enforcement, reader has a criminal record ( don't we all? ) , murder , character death, guns, kidnapping ( kind of ) , e2l ( more like fuck buddies ) , hints to a robbery, SMUT hate fucking , clit / coochie smacking , bondage with a tie , overstimulation , degradation , gagging, car sex , bratty reader , dom!augustd , sub!reader , spanking , biting , spit mention, i hope that's all.

TAG LIST : @kooliv @princxssly82 @btsw1fe @princess-sunshyn @goldenmidnight @borahaerhy @itzz-me-duh @akiiron @thisladysperspective @kooliv @whenthebeatdrop-beatdrop @jenniexjenny @bashbri @cherryjenie

A/N: this is my longest fic ive ever written! the amount of times ive scraped this and rewrote it should be illegal. i honestly didn't see it becoming this big all i wanted was for me to hunch the police 🫤 WELL HERE WE ARE NOW!!!

Looking a man in the eye and shooting him dead was never on your bucket list of things to do. You always wanted to go to Hawaii and lounge around in a tropical setting, or a picnic in front of the Eiffel Tower but you simply weren't normal enough for that.

You were at your mailbox boredly flicking through the bills and useless advertised telegrams when a bright yellow envelope caught your eye.

You tuck the rest of the envelopes under your arm— using the acrylic nail on your index finger to open it. Slowly you began to remove the endless series of pictures. They all contained you and Yoongi together in multiple situations. One of you holding hands and walking into your apartment, the other of the two of you coming out of the car together. Your hair was disheveled, your hand tugging at the top of your dress, a wide smirk on Yoongi's face as his eyes looked directly into the camera fixing at his pants.

You swallow hard, heart beating a bass drum in your ears.

This is exactly what Yoongi warned you about in the beginning of your relationship.

“Y/N L/N?” You jumped shoving the photos into the envelope turning towards the voice. You are met with a man, his eyes a light shade of brown and his hair dark and curly.

“Who's asking?'' Clearing your throat, the grip on your once useless mail got tighter watching him dig into his pocket, pulling out his golden badge.

“Detective Kim Taehyung, I’d like to talk to you back at the station. Little birdy told me you know the whereabouts of Min Yoongi. Otherwise known as ‘Suga’.

You gulped, looking over his shoulder and seeing his partner leaning on the edge of his patrol car the ripped man throwing you a smile and wave. The bunny like smile didn’t even match his hulking figure.

“Well, your little birdy? Was wrong Mr. Kim have a good rest of your day.”

“Please don’t make this any harder Ms” You begin to walk away from the fed quickly, descending up the stairs of your home.

This is exactly what Yoongi didn't want.

“Y/N L/N you’re under arrest for the murders of Kim Hongjoon, Song Mingi, and Choi San"

At the Seoul police station, you were roughed up and thrown into a cold interrogation room. Rubbing your raw wrist throbbing from being bound too tight by the handcuffs you were unlawfully forced in. Groaning your head banged on the cool metal table. The names of any of the men Detective Kim had listed didn't ring any of the bells inside your head. You had your petty crimes throughout your youth, but you were partially civil enough to not murder anybody. This was a tactic to get you to spill what you knew about your boyfriend, and his very illegal line of work. Hell, you didn’t really know anything but, in all honesty, you were ready to fold when he pulled his badge from his pocket. You and law enforcement never mixed well.

You hear the door open, making you sit up straight with a scowl deep on your face. "No one read me my rights."

He chuckled, his dark hair shiny in the low yellow lights. He turned, and your mouth dropped open. “I'll be sure to scold my officers.”

This man was a carbon copy of your Min Yoongi.

The only difference was that the scar on the left side of his face looked to have healed better and was faint. Unlike your boyfriends, whose scar was still an angry, bright shade of red, thick, and tissuey leaving him partially blind.

You knew your boyfriend had a brother. A brother who was in some type of higher up position working for him and covering his messy jobs. Though he rarely talked of him in greater detail, Yoongi had failed to let you know of his very identical twin. “You might catch flies Mrs. Y/n”, setting a large binder on the cold table and taking a seat in the wooden chair in front of you. You shut your mouth, mind running a million miles per hour.

“Seems like he doesn't talk about me much” A noise of disapproval left his lip. Lending you his hand, “Detective August, I requested your presence here in regard to my brother current whereabouts”

Your mouth turned into a thin line, and boy you really wished you knew. “I don’t know what you're talking about...” he hummed, cracking open the large binder skimming through it.

Your body stiff as he read off a file everything about you, “Your grades were decent in high school, though you dropped out suddenly in the middle of your senior year, you were homeless for a year after that, and you have a couple petty thief's and three assault charges”

He looked at you, nodding “You and my brother are a perfect match”

“My brother keeps many women around” he started leaning back into the chair, legs crossing “But you? He's kept you around for the longest, seven months?”

He whistled mockingly, “That's a world record. What makes you so special, huh?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, nails digging deep into your skin as your leg bounces with anxiety. He was pissing you off and the smirk told you he knew it. You could jump over the table and punch him for being an asshole cop and just for unfortunately sharing the same face of your absent boyfriend, but you didn't need another assault charge on another cop.

"And what the fuck does that have to do with me?”

“I always keep tabs on my little brother, always running around and making messes around the city"

So, you're his personal maid?" Watching his jaw clench you smile in satisfaction.

He harshly began to pull out batches of pictures, men whose faces you've seen before somewhere in your life. Till it clicked in your brain— all of these men have tried to make a pass at you over the past couple of months of you dealing with Yoongi romantically. The next handful of photos he pulled were them all laying in pools of their own blood.

"Very sloppy jobs done by yours truly."

Your stomach twisted in knots. You knew what Yoongi was capable of, but all of this for you? You swallow hard, letting a loud sigh leave your lips. "I haven't heard anything from him in 3 weeks he never tells me where he is, what he's doing, or when he's coming back”

August cursed under his breath, hand wiping down his face, "There's been radio silence for five days, were not even sure if he's in Korea anymore."

With that the worst possible scenarios flashed before your eyes, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Y/N, we’ll find him. It's not the first time this has happened”

“And how long was he missing?”

“A year and a half.”

You swallow hard, "And my murder charges?".

"They've suddenly been dropped. I'll be sure to remind my men to be less rough next time"

“Next time?”

The long months of being with Yoongi him disappearing on you wasn't rare. Being that he constantly let it be known that his line of work wasn't meant for you, and you didn't need to be involved. Three weeks has been the longest your lover has been gone. Three very long weeks with not even the smallest bit of news from Hoseok, his right-hand man. You were worried sick, but you knew your boyfriend was tough, and he always came back home to you.

Towel wrapped around your body, you sighed heavily, feeling yourself buzzing from the red wine you'd been consuming since you walked in the front door. It was near dark when Detectives Kim and Jeon dropped you off at home, apologizing for how forceful they were.

You didn't even know if you should have been talking to him and telling the man anything, but you just figured it was fine because he did cover a lot of Yoongi's ‘accidents.

After rubbing your body down with essential oils, you jump at the sound of the phone ringing. The caller ID stating ‘unknown' made you immediately press the green answer and put it on speaker phone, “Hello?

“Don’t you miss me, doll?” You stiffened hearing his voice for the first time in weeks made your body feel like jello. “You mad at me, princess?”

“Mad is an understatement.” glaring at the bright phone screen, “You're so cute when you frown” his words made your glare deepen, looking around your bedroom.

“Is there a fucking cam-” he cut you off. His voice was deeper than usual, all dark and serious, different from his usual playfulness. “I know you saw my brother today.”

“It's not like I had a choice” he clicked his tongue and mumbled shit over his breath and slightly ruffling like he was running his hands through his hair.

“I don’t want you seeing him again, he's a fuckin’ pig. You need to be more assertive. Hobi told me you folded as soon as Taehyung pulled out his badge”

You were at your breaking point, you haven't spoken in weeks and now he was trying to coach you?

“Oh fuck you Min Yoongi, our first conversion in weeks is this bullshit? I've been worried sick.” he stayed silent on the other end listening to you rant about everything. You weren't a dumbass. You knew that dealing with a gangster would come with extra baggage, but this was making your head hurt.

“Your killing innocent men for flirting with me? Then you might as well murder the 14 year old who gives me a free rose every monday”

“You think I won't?” blood running cold as a chill ran down your spin

"Yoongi can't be serious right now” His sigh was loud and frustrated, “Me killing six men for you isn't serious enough?”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want my brother around. Of course, he goes to you when I'm away. He’s already getting to your head and filling it with nonsense so he could have you to himself”

You scoff angrily, scuffing down your glass of wine. “You're so delusional, fuck you and your brother, I don't want anything to do with either of you anymore. Don't bother coming back here” he paused, then his laughter rang through the speakers like he was watching a comedy special.

“Youre hilarious, baby." he sighs and sniffs. “You know I can see you right? Been watching you since I left.”

Your eyes scan every corner of your bedroom. “You don't want me to come back and play with that pussy for you?”

“No.” You didn't answer just staring down at your clench thighs as his soft hum fills your ears, “You're not a good liar baby.”

“Fuck you Min Yoongi” he hummed, almost sounding like cats purr “I plan on fucking you.”

“l'll be home in two days, and I'm gonna make it up to you with this dick deep in your guts."

“I love you, and stop drinking so much your hangovers are the worst.” he hung up with that leaving you shunned to tears. Throwing your phone down you turn up the whole bottle of cheap wine.

Fuck you Min Yoongi

There were three things that you learned over the past 24 hours.

1. No matter where you went there were always people watching you.

Even your own house isn't safe. Yoongi somehow placed cameras in unknown places all throughout and his men were on your tail along with August and his lackeys.

2. Yoongi was so right about your hangovers.

Your head was thumping the moment you woke up in the morning, still you got ready for work.

3. The Min brothers were fucking insane.

Pulling on the detective's sleeve, you drag him outside the saloon. August had shown up today at your workplace asking around for you and causing a scene. Knowing how nosy and gossipy your coworkers and customers were, you'd be the hot topic for weeks, horrible for your lowkey reputation.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask when the two of you were furthest away from the shop and out of sight.

August stared you down, face blank. You hated that he shared the same face as your boyfriend, and he was just as handsome, but the way he carried himself was totally different from his brother.

While Yoongi was very loose and airy, August was tight and stiff with every movement. Despite that, both brothers had a very demanding and dominated aura, taking up space even in the largest room.

“ If you had to ask me something, a phone call or text would have been great. Instead of barging into my workplace like a madman”

He blinked once, twice, then again, looking behind you. You turn and see several people entering your job. He then gripped onto your forearm and dragged you into his chest. You fight against his grip, cursing him and complaining.

"What's going on? Are you crazy?"

"Listen woman" he hissed grip tightening as he shook you slightly. "My brother needs to tighten your leash before I have to."

You open your mouth to get ready to mouth back, but his look shut you right up. "Those pictures you got in the mail. Who do you think sent them?"

You swallow hard before gulping harshly, putting two and two together. He knew what was going to happen if you stayed in the saloon longer.

"Now be quiet and get in the car."

August was seated beside you in the drivers seat of the tinted Audi. You hated this, you wanted to sleep but everytime you dozed off August was there to flick you in the forehead claiming he wasn't going to carry you when the ride was over. You kept asking him when that time was coming and his answer was always a dry 'soon'.

"You have a very foul mouth for a lady," he grumbled, not even looking in your direction.

"And you're annoying. No wonder Yoongi doesn't like you”

He growled hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Me and my brothers relationship is hardly any of your business” With a roll of your eyes and a huff, you cross your arms.

“You two should have never made it my business." his eyes shifted towards you for the first time since getting put in the car. His eyes burning into the side of your head, but you kept your focus outside of the window, ignoring him. Your thigh began to bounce in anxiety as you got tired of his staring.

"Can you keep your eyes on the damn road?" You snapped at him. "You've spoke to my brother yesterday, no?"

"So what if I did." Looking back out the car window.

"You remind me of my brothers last whore. A dumb puppy." he said, you didn't even think when your hand raised smacking the clone of a man across the face. The raw sound of the skin colliding echoed throughout the car.

"You sound jealous of your little brother August." His face went through the most emotion you'd seen him show.

"Awe, poor August always in Yoongi's shadow, hoping and wishing to be just like him- ACK"

August foot slammed hard onto the break sending you forward, seat belt digging in your chest, head inches away from hitting the dashboard.

"Don't talk about shit you don't know about" his voice raises looking at you with slitted eyes. But you didn't have to know much to figure out that August was living in his brother's shadow. So you pressed on, acrylic nails tapping all over his buttons.

"Yoongi gets to do things without consequences while you pick up and clean up after. I'm sure you're tired, I know you wished you could make a mess and not clean it up for once."

“Get out.” and with that you opened the door, slamming it hard beginning your long walk down the dark road. Hearing the sound of the driver side door close your turn and see August. Giving him two middle fingers you grabbed your phone from your work pants, cursing as there was no cell service. You heard August behind walking steadily.

You must have misjudged the distance between you and him before you knew it you were lifted off the ground. Your phone is thrown to the ground and his shiny dress shoe is stomping on it. You claw at his back, kicking and screaming “You psycho! Put me down!”

A smack echoed through the trees. Your ass stings as you embarrassingly laid limp over the detective's shoulder. He walks both of you back to the car. There was no getting out of this situation and before, you knew it. You were thrown into the backseat of the car, an angry August looming over you.

You both were breathing heavy as you stared at each other, and before you knew it, he was smashing his lips onto yours. You should have screamed more, or headbutted him like Yoongi taught you, bit his tongue when it slipped inside your mouth, but you didn't.

You allowed him to put his tongue in your mouth. You allowed him to grope your chest as he grinded himself against your crotch and you let the moans slip from your mouth. High-pitched and whiny they were. When you two parted a thin line of spit followed his lips immediately latched hard onto your neck.

He was mumbling. You couldn't what he was saying with the way his hands roughly dragged your work pants down your ankles and rubbing you through your damp panties. Humorlessly he laughed,

“If this is the mess he would leave i wouldn't mind cleaning it”

"I wonder which one of you got the most attention growing up?" smirking as you egg him on further, making him bite your neck hard, you were sure there was blood leaking. "You run your pretty fucking mouth too much." Shoving your panties into your mouth roughly shoving your legs up to your chest.

Staring at your glistening folds he groans, slim fingers ghosting over your peeking clitoris. Your thighs quiver as his fingers sink into your wet hole, moaning against the damp fabric in your mouth. “I wonder what my brother would say if he knew how easy it was to get you spread open for me.”

Lewd sounds came from the bottom half of you as his curled fingers roughly fucked your insides, you were sure that the mess was leaking onto the dark interior of his car. He never looked away from your face, staring intensely into your eyes and every time you closed your his thumb would press directly on your swollen and sensitive clit. “You're gonna cum?” He asked obviously, telling from the way your thighs twitched and from the way you squeezed his fingers like they'd stolen something from you.

“Slut” he hissed, watching you fall apart in loud high pitched, pornographic moans. He didn't stop his movements until you were sobbing for him to stop, the buzz and sting in between your legs was simply too much to handle. “Tch...” he removed his finger from your insides smacking his palm against the wet flesh. His pants were hurriedly unbuttoned, and his hot flesh smacked onto your own.

When he sinks himself into you— gasping out loud nails digging into your palms. While Yoongi was long and curved at the tip like a dagger stabbing at your g spot, August was thick from bottom to top, feeling him throbbing inside you as he forced himself deep into your stomach. “This is why he kills for you, fuck...

His thrust rocked the car heavily as your moans and his occasional grunts filled the small space. Your noises muffled against the panties in your mouth, damp with your saliva. You could feel his thrust becoming sloppier and your stomach tightening. The grip on your neck loosened as he pulled you to kiss him. Your organisms crashed together as your thighs shook against his waist and he came deep inside your withering body. The two of you laid there breathing heavily as your eyes slowly began to drift shut. “If this is what gets you to shut up, I would've done it a long time ago.”

He huffs, swiping his fallen curls back as he moves to untie you, removing the cloth from your mouth as you limply laid. He wrapped his suit jacket around you and pulled up your pants still mumbling. “Sleep well, we've got 20 minutes left.”

You awoke with a yawn rolling over you blinked a couple times before remembering your night eyes popping open you wipe the sleep from them, blinking. “Goodmornin’ doll.”

Min Yoongi hovered over you with a gummy smirk causing you to gasp. Leaping up from your plaited position your arms wrapping around his neck. He hugs you back tucking his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet scent that always stuck to your skin. In that moment you forgot that you were supposed to be mad at the man too overwhelmed with his presence. He pulled back pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes were darker than usual. Sucken in from the weeks of lack of sleeping and you noticed how much thinner he was.

Then it hit you like a truck.

August, kidnapped? the car, his dick . . .

You were a dirty dog clinging to your boyfriend after getting your brains fucked out by his twin brother who he obviously dislikes.

You cry into his neck as he shushes you, he was way too calm about this and that was just the signs of a storm slowly but surely brewing. He lets you go softly, standing to his feet. Nodding at the clothes hanging on the dresser in front of you "Put those on and meet me downstairs." With a quick kiss he leaves you sniffing and alone.

Descending down the long staircase your bare feet pad against the cold tiles. You spot Yoongi and his men standing at the bottom. Yoongi watched you walk down hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket, cigarettes burning between his lips. He was quick to grab you when you finally hit the last set of stairs, arm snuggly wrapping around your waist as he walked you through the large house.

"Where are we Yoon?"

"Do you trust me?" He asked, as Namjoon opened the door to the outside. Your eyes widen in horror as you see what's behind the door.

He grabs your face to make you look him in the eyes as he asks you again more aggressively "Do you trust me Y/N?"

You sniff back tears looking the man you love in the eyes. "Yes. I do Yoongi."

He clicks his tongue staring at you a moment longer. "I don't believe you."

You let out a string of protests as he drags you outside, you stumbled falling to your knees. You hand smacking into the pool of blood. You gagged dry heaving as Yoongi scoffed at you snatching you back to your feet.

Blood staining the concrete ground as multiple bodies lay only inches away from you both. Their faces were covered with blood stained bags, and their hands and feet tied together. You could hear some sobbing and begging while others laid still more than likely dead.

You stood there shaking in fear as you watched Yoongi pull a gun from the waistband of his pants. While Namjoon and Hoseok pulled a squirming man in front of you. "You see, doll everything I do is for a reason."

"I tell you to stay out of my business for a reason"

"I tell you to keep Hobi at your side for a reason."

He clicked the silver weapon as he yanks the sheet of the man's head revealing August. His face was bruised and bloody as he stared from the gun to you. A humorless chuckle leaves his lips as he bows his head to the ground. "If you shoot me, our pact is done, and you'll never see the light of day or your slut again."

Verbally wincing when Yoongi knocks the butt his gun against his brother's face. August makes no sound head turning as he spits the blood from his mouth. Yoongi crouches down to his level, clicking his tongue as he hums. "I'm not gonna shoot you August what kind of little brother would I be?"

"Grab the runts." He tells his right hand men, bringing in Taehyung and Jungkook who struggled against them. "You see brother you think you're so smart because you got your little degree."

"But that doesn't mean shit." He stands to his full height turning towards. "There's a reason our father gave me his empire and not you. You're predictable and impulsive you think fucking my girl is going to send me over the edge and make me break our pact by ending your miserable life."

He laughs, "Well August... I'm not going to kill you no matter how much I'm burning too."

He turned towards you giving you a gummy smile. Not at all appropriate for the current circumstance you were in. "She is."

#bts x black reader #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #dee recs.#hoseok x reader #bts fic rec #bts series #bts ot7 #bts imagines #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x oc #mafia bts #ceo bts #bts angst #bts mafia au #bts fanfic

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en-gelic · 28 days

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bubblegum ✸ 엔하이픈

syn. to be loved by them. gn. idolxnon-idol, fluff ⋆ wc 873 ! warnings. skinship, kisses ୨୧ so sweet like bubblegum ʚɞ BOOKSHELF! ⋆

🗯 taglist : @cholexc @07sleepykatz @seunghancore (ask or comment to be added !)

To be loved by lee heeseung meant he would continuously remind you of how much he loved you by kissing you in his favourite places— your neck, your fingers and your jawline. Tying your hair when you were working or busy, and staring holes through your back when you were applying lip gloss, eagerly waiting to wipe it off. Late night calls you would have when he couldn't sleep resulted in you reciting your notes to him, which usually had him asleep in minutes. If it were you struggling to fall asleep, he would sing to you causing you to unconsciously end up staying up just to listen to his voice. You made him cover any song possible and got exclusive covers just for the two of you. He would show off in front of the members whenever you would watch him game.

To be loved by park jongseong meant him sending you options for your hair dye at unholy hours of the morning and coming over extra early to help you with it. Constantly asking whether you had eaten and whether your work was going well. He would be over at your house, scolding you on eating too much fast food and making meal preps for whenever you were too busy. Consulted you before buying anything, which was a terribly bad option as you were the type to encourage anything but kitchen appliances that aren't coffee makers. He would also send you any flavour of coffee he was able to find and constantly expressed his love through sending you gifts wherever he was.

To be loved by sim jaeyun meant him letting you tie his hair into little ponytails even if you tugged too hard. Giving you piggy-backs and using your height difference as an advantage when he wanted to tease you. He would ruffle your hair a lot, which was a habit of his you hated the most. Kissing your head before he went anywhere and teaching you how to fish was his favourite things to do. Whenever he saw an opportunity, he took random photos of you that you never saw until he posted it and defended himself by the fact that they were quite good.

To be loved by park sunghoon meant picking his jewelry— especially glasses and taking any accessory you could find from his collection. Calling you every hour when he was abroad just to ask you whether you were fine and giving you any shirt with his name on it and making you wear it when you were going out with friends to show his 'dominance' he had said to defend himself. He would pout if you didn't say 'I love you' before ending the call and demanded a kiss as an apology. Would send you photos of scenery when he was away and had the habit of eating food that you like on your behalf.

To be loved by kim sunoo meant spending evenings binge watching popular shows while hating most of their plots. Getting you to watch horror movies with him because you were the clingiest when you were scared. Applying your lipgloss for you to give the reason that since he put it on, he can take it off and washing your hair whenever you didn't feel like doing it. Peppering your face with kisses in the excuse that his lips were like free skincare. Would organise your wardrobe every other week, complaining about how disorganised you were. He would be very serious when it comes to not eating until the movie began and would slap your hands away if you tried to eat before it played.

To be loved by yang jungwon meant him picking up souvenirs from anywhere he want and matching clothes with you on purpose but acting as if he didn't mean to. Would send a message before going live to make sure you were able to attend every live if you could. Buys you everything that you like in the convenience store and dumps it all in your house whenever you weren't around, leaving a note he scribbled before leaving. He would create random nicknames for you and send an English 'word of the week' to help with the two of you learning English.

To be loved by nishimura riki meant inside jokes which only the two of you could understand. Fiddling with his rings when he held your hand and raiding his closet whenever you got the chance. He would purposely buy things for 'himself' that he knew you would like, and pretending to be irritated when you take them. Putting things in high places you can't climb up to get just so you could ask him for help. Constantly getting him to draw for you, no matter how many times he says that he's not that good. Adoring your cats whenever he came over and making sure that they weren't bothering you when you were busy with work. Trying to lose every game for you because you were too competitive. Back hugs and cuddles with his body either towering or covering yours which was the best form of body heat in winter. He habitually pretends to not see you since you were much shorter than him.

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skzdarlings · 3 months

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birthday girl ; skz ; seungmin x reader

requested by anonymous: “You keep your hands where they are or I’ll tie them up” with Seungmin + requested by anonymous: ❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜ is SO seungmin I can’t 😭 + requested by @sealovesbts : ❛ is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them? ❜ x Seungmin djjdjjdjd 🫣

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: friends to lovers. boy next door!seungmin, stripper!seungmin. reader is kinda vanilla but gets a couple kinks unlocked: stripping, some power play, seungmin giving orders and her following it, having sex in privacy but a public venue overall. word count: 4100 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

You open the door and jump, startled to find Seungmin already standing there with his hand raised to knock. He also looks surprised but he doesn’t shriek like you do. You were already jittery before the jump-scare.

“Seungmin! Sorry!” You put a hand over your heart. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I can see that.” He speaks in his usual dry tone but smiles a lopsided smile.

Kim Seungmin lives in your neighbourhood. You have been amicable a long time so you like to consider him a friend as well. He is an admittedly private person and his personality can be brash, but you find charm in his quirky cheekiness. He is reliable whenever you need a hand.

He is dressed in a hoodie and jeans which is not unusual; he is not very flashy. His bangs sweep his forehead and he smiles a wide, boxy smile as he hands you a gift bag.

“Happy birthday, neighbour,” he says.

“Oh my goodness,” you say, flustered. “Seungmin! You didn’t have to!”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m the greatest,” he quips. While you open the present, he asks, “I guess you’re going out? You’re all dressed up.”

“Oh, um, yes.” You feel shy as he looks at you.

“You look good,” he says.

It makes you even more flustered. You are dressed a little sleeker and sexier than usual. Your sister has arranged your birthday party but you do not know where, only that she said to dress for fun. You are not great with surprises and your sister is a little wild, hence your nerves, but you have decided to leave your comfort zone for one night.

You were not expecting to run into your neighbour, friend, and crush.

Because, yes, you like Seungmin. A lot. Seungmin is very modest, low-key, and hard-working. You know he is at law school and works a few jobs to pay for it. You are not sure where, but he is intelligent and you can imagine him doing anything. His snark is amusing but his dependability and steadfastness is a sexy combination. Your sister has never met him but has often teased you for your so-called boring infatuation, but you disregard the thought. You like Seungmin, shaggy bangs and law school textbooks and all.

A flirtation has been subtly brewing over the last few months. You think the unexpected birthday gift is a step in that direction. Especially when you unwrap a recipe book you off-handedly mentioned a few weeks ago, touched he remembered it at all.

“Oh, thank you, Seungmin,” you say, gushing and sweet. You go to hug him but falter nervously and end up giggling.

He brushes some hair out of his eyes. They seem to sparkle with mirth, or maybe you are just ridiculously head-over-heels.

“You’re kinda goofy, you know that?” he says, but smiles. “I like it.”

“Oh gosh,” you say.

It makes him laugh. Then he says, “I’ll let you get to your party.”

“Oh, it’s just my sister and some girl friends,” you say. “I don’t even know where we’re going. Probably just some food and stuff. You know me. I’m very simple.”

“I do,” he says. “I’d like to know you better, though. Maybe you can make me one of those recipes some time. I like the one on page fifteen.”

You burst out laughing at his audacity, making him laugh too. His teasing successively obliterates your nerves.

“I will,” you say, smiling so big. “Page fifteen. Noted.”

“It’s a date,” he says. “I’ll let you go now. Enjoy your birthday dinner.”

“You too,” you say, then realize that response made no sense so you stutter through a retraction. You stop when he leans in and kisses your cheek, a quick peck that makes your eyes go wide.

“Goofball,” he says and bops your nose while smiling. “See you around, neighbour.”

“Bye, neighbour,” you say, giggling helplessly.

He smiles as he walks away, hands in his pockets, and you are still hugging your book and smiling.

The conversation with Seungmin is your last wholesome birthday moment. You meet your sister and friends only to get whisked off to a placeof complete and utter depravity.

Otherwise known as a club full of male strippers.

You are sitting at a little table, astounded at the room around you. You hold no judgements whatsoever, but between the flashing lights and loud music and, um, prominent bare chests and even more prominent bulges, you are sufficiently overawed.

You cannot help but gawk, mouth open as you look around at everything. It makes your sister and friends laugh. It is not mean but they are undoubtedly amused. Your shy character is the opposite of… this.

“You guys are crazy,” you say, only making them erupt into more giggles.

“You like logic and traditions so consider it a rite of passage, baby sister,” your sister says, slinging her arm around your shoulder and squeezing. “Or, hm, an act of feminism! It’s about equality. We need to objectify and ogle the sexy men on behalf of womankind.”

“How noble of us,” you say dryly, setting off another round of giggles. You shake your head, smiling with amusement too. You are a little embarrassed but it is quite funny, and there is a part of you enjoying something so opposite of your usual quiet scenes.

Amusing is the best word for it, though. None of the men are remotely your type and the relentless hip-thrusting is a bit much. You find yourself laughing into your drink and swaying to music as a few choreographed routines are performed. Some of the more elaborate dances are entertaining.

“The birthday girl likes a pretty boy,” your sister says, conspiring with your friends to find the perfect man to entertain you.

“No, I don’t,” you say. You roll your eyes and playfully shove her shoulder.

“Well,” she says, “there are no boring lawyers on that stage, so a pretty face will have to suffice.”

They proceed to point out a few of the prettier dancers while you shake your head. You turn to watch the stage where a different set of men are in the middle of a routine. There is a very rowdy bachelorette party in front of your table, occasionally blocking the view of one side of the stage. You are sipping you drink when a few girls move, opening the view.

You promptly spit your drink everywhere. Your friends squeal while you choke and there is enough chaos at your table for one of the dancers to look directly at you.

Not just any dancer.

Kim Seungmin.

You have seen that face twice a day every day for months and you still barely recognize him. It is no wonder that even a slightly obstructed view warped him entirely.

Your modest, low-key friend is dazzling under the stage lights, face lightly made-up and his usual shaggy hair pushed back off his face. Is it possible for a glimpse of forehead to so drastically change the composition of a familiar face? He looks like a new man, his features striking on his bright, open face, all framed by neatly styled dark hair. The familiar sparkle in his dark eyes is accentuated by the gleam of something shining around his neck. Necklace? Choker? Collar?

He is in a white dress shirt and blue jeans, ripped at the knee, but everything about him seems illuminated. He is the bold, blazoned fantasy version of the boy next door. Very literally in your case, which is maybe why you think it, watching him cross the stage with more verve and confidence than you knew he possessed. Your Seungmin walks in a casual shuffle, hands in his pockets. He does not stride.

He certainly does not… gyrate. Which is what he is doing when he catches your eye. There is a moment of shared recognition and subsequent surprise, wide-eyed as you hold gazes across a noisy room.

Seungmin, a seemingly consummate professional, blinks the surprise off his face and goes back to his routine.

You are not so practiced. Your surprise stays plastered there, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him. The dance that seemed so exaggerated and ridiculous on the other performers is something else on Seungmin. Maybe it is his character, the boy next door with his ripped jeans and smirking grin. Or maybe it is because he is your boy next door.

He is not ridiculous. Quite the opposite. He makes it look natural, fluid and unhurried with the swivel of his hips and teasing grin. He seems to somehow make eye contact with everyone in the room.

You remind yourself that is his job when his eyes wander back to you. It does not slow the race of your heart.

He sits on a chair and opens his shirt. Some of the other dancers are more than half-naked, but he has a captive audience with the simplest action. Keeping each step to the beat of the music, he reclines and undoes his belt, which makes your lips part. Then he lets his shirt drop down his arms and reveals his shoulders, which makes you gasp. Then he cups a hand between his legs, curving his palm over the not-insubstantial bulge in his jeans. Heat fills the core of you.

He looks right at you with a tilt of his head and a lazy smile, the subtle sort of smirk that does not need to exaggerate. He knows he has you.

“Oh my god,” your friend says. “Not birthday girl eye-fucking a stripper.”

“What!” You rip your attention away all at once, flushed hot from head to toe. “I am not!”

“Well, he was eye-fucking you.”

You take a gigantic gulp of water, though it does not to quell the heat inside. Until today, the most you dared to fantasize about Seungmin was a prolonged kiss on the porch. Seungmin is polite. He does not eye-fuck.

Except you glance over the rim of your cup. He is still looking at you. It is not the way he looks at everyone else, who he skims with a cursory glance and flirtatious wink. It is a lingering, penetrating stare, like he is calling you to him with his eyes alone.

Oh. Gosh. He is eye-fucking you.

“I think,” your sister says, “we found a pretty boy for the birthday girl.”

And that is how you find yourself sitting in a small private room, barely bigger than a coat closet and washed in a dark purple light. You are perched on a plush little seat, holding your handbag so tightly your knuckles start to hurt. You let go and clear your throat, embarrassed even though you are alone. You place the bag on the floor and smooth your hands down the skirt of your dress.

You squeak like a frightened little mouse, jumping when Kim Seungmin startles you for the third time tonight. Once on your doorstep. Once on stage. And now in this little room, silhouetted by the hall lights until he closes the divider. He is still in his ripped jeans and dress shirt, neatly buttoned and composed again.

He runs a hand through his hair which makes your heart skip beats. You feel a little preposterous, scandalized by a forehead, but it makes his gaze so direct. You melt under the intensity of his stare.

“I hear it’s your birthday,” he says.

You imagine yourself as a stranger to him, the same line recited with the same confidence. For some reason, it is just as tantalizing. You like abrasive, quirky law student Kim Seungmin in his hoodie and jeans. But you find yourself irrevocably spellbound by this other version of him, who is so seductive it has women drawing money out of their purses.

“Yes,” is what you say, instead of all that.

He tilts his head, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. He is always clever but his open face makes his scrutiny more apparent. You swallow when he approaches, when he sinks down on one knee while holding your gaze in thrall.

“Breathe,” he says. “That’s not a request.” He rests his hands on the seat, framing your body between them. He does not touch you. He does not need to. Your breath spills free in a rush and he smirks. “Good. All right. So… neighbour… Should we talk?”

You think a thousand thoughts. Yes, a conversation. No, your friends paid for this room. They think you will get a lap dance or something, then return quickly. You want to ask when he is free for dinner. You want to ask how long he has worked here. You want to know him. You really, really want to kiss him.

You say instead, “I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”

He looks at you for another moment, still studious. You swallow again. Then he smiles that dastardly grin, wide and a little mean.

“And you want to?” he asks. “Do this sort of thing?”

“Only if it’s you,” you say, then avert your gaze out of embarrassment. Maybe that was too much cringe-worthy honesty.

He touches your chin, drawing your gaze back to him. You blink at him, helpless but to study his face in turn. He was always decently good-looking but he is driving you to complete distraction. You find yourself staring at his lips well before he starts speaking.

“I think you have more depth than either of us know, don’t you?” he asks.

“Maybe,” you say, laughing a little. You look at him with wide, earnest eyes. “Don’t we all?”

He touches his tongue to his upper lip, looking thoughtful but undoubtedly smiling. Then he smacks his lips and nods, his hair bouncing.

“Right,” he says. “In that case, birthday girl…”

He stands and your eyes follow. He holds your gaze until he starts unbuttoning his shirt, then your eyes drop to his hands, the deft flick of his fingers as they crawl down his chest.

A professional, you think. It gets you undeniably hot. You meet his eyes again when he tugs his shirt off and drops it behind him. He is more slender than chiseled, especially compared to some of the other dancers, but there is a firmness to his body, a control he has mastered.

He grabs a bar above your head that you did not even notice, using it to lift and lower himself over you. He lands in a smooth straddle with his knees cradling you under him.

You sit back, breathing harder already. Then he takes your hands and lifts them over your head, making your fingers twitch with anticipation. You are still fully clothed but your dress is sleeveless and low-cut and this feels like a vulnerable position, arms raised with a half-naked Kim Seungmin straddling your body.

He curls your fingers around the bar then drags his knuckle down the bare skin of your arms, making you shiver despite the packed heat of this little room.

“You keep your hands where they are,” he says, “or I’ll tie them up.”

You nod a little frantically and it makes him laugh. Then he is leaning back just enough to rock his body over yours, bringing your attention to every flawless plane of his body as he moves on you. He touches you sparingly, making you watch, making you wonder. Looking and fantasizing about what his hips can really do, what strength is hidden in the body he has mastered. He follows the low music, ever deep thrum of a bass, every heart-pounding beat.

He brings his face close to yours, so close your lips almost touch. It steals your breath like a real kiss would.

“I’m going to touch you,” he says. “Be good for me, birthday girl. Maybe there’s a present in it for you. Only if I like you.”

You cannot find any witty quips to return. He is definitely the experienced one, as effortless with his words as with everything else. You can only gawk at him as he slides smoothly off. Then his hands are on your legs, making them quiver, your body startled with the direct touch despite the warning.

Your skirt gathers just a bit, his hands curling under your knees. Then he is spreading your legs, not enough to see anything but enough you feel the empty space between them. Oh yes, emptier than you have ever felt. You are surprised by the way you clench, your body aching for more. He only teases, makes you feel that emptiness and picture every what if. He helps you with your fantasy, pushing your legs back like he would if he was fucking you deep, rolling his hips so close to yours in mimicry.

“Oh,” is the only sound you make. Your breathing is very loud. It says a lot on its own.

He is breathing a little harder too. He is still between your legs when he starts unbuttoning his jeans. He shuffles them down his hips but not all the way off. You can see he is wearing nothing underneath, the denim itself a suddenly tantalizing piece, slung low on his hips with the subtle sloping v of his body drawing your gaze to his middle.

“I don’t usually go further than this, you know,” he says. He slowly pushes the next button loose and you can feel the rush of heat from your belly swoop lower. His bulge looks obscene at this vantage, pushing at what little remains of the denim around it. “But I think I like you, birthday girl.” He opens another button. “I think I can make an exception.” He pushes the last button then grasps his jeans at the hips, grinning as he says, “Our secret.”

Secret, illicit, that’s what this feels like, looking at the gorgeous man you have been pining after, watching as he pushes his jeans down his hips and thighs. You are tucked in a small room not far away from a rowdy crowd, Kim Seungmin dropping the last of his clothes then continuing his slow and sensual movements.

You feel dizzy, your arms shaking. You close your mouth when you literally salivate, because his dick is right there, hard and curving up in front of you as he moves with skilled ease. You giggle a little nervously when he notices and swipes a thumb across your lips. Then he reaches up, curling his hands over yours on the bar as he leans in close to your face.

“You wanna touch me?” he asks, palms over your knuckles. You nod frantically and he grins that mean smile, tilting his head as he looks down at you. “What will you give me for it?”

“Anything,” you say. “You can do anything to me. You can have all of me.”

It occurs only seconds later he might mean money, but he just laughs, that familiar ha-ha-ha you have heard a dozen times before.

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he teases. “By fucking your way out of them?”

“You’re so mean,” you say with a helpless pout.

“Yeah,” he says, brushing his nose with yours. “I am. I could be worse, but it’s your birthday.” He takes your hands and lowers them, guiding them to his shoulders.

You touch him carefully, as if he is fragile, or like he could disappear beneath your fingertips. This moment hardly seems real, ethereal and bright, all neon and purple haze. This is not like you and that is thrilling. This is all new, but he is also familiar. You are enjoying this, him, you together.

You touch him slowly, with intention, just the gentlest caress across his bare shoulders. It wipes his grin, makes his breathing get all slow like he is savouring it too. He looks at you with more intensity.

“You said I can anything?” he asks.

A nod is all it takes, then he is sinking to his knees. He pushes back a few loose strands of his hair, then his hands are under your knees and he is pulling you to the edge of your seat. You make a little noise of surprise, clutching his shoulders until he manoeuvres you. Then it is your legs on his shoulders and he is running his tongue along your inner thigh.

“Seungmin,” you say, breathlessly.

“Shh, shh,” he says. “Our secret, remember?”

Then he is tugging your now wet panties to the side, his mouth on you in a ravenous motion. You cover your mouth to try and stifle most of your moaning, but you cannot help the few sounds that escape, especially as he takes you closer and closer to a climax. He surfaces, still using his hand to get you close, his lips wet and eyes searching. He smirks, sliding two fingers into you while rolling his thumb across that distended bundle of nerves.

“That’s not quiet, birthday girl,” he says. “Don’t make me gag you.”

“I’m quiet,” is your rasping reply.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks, fucking his fingers roughly through all the wet desire between your thighs, making you shake. “I can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making,” he says. “It almost sounds like you’re about to come for me. That’s pretty dirty. What would everyone out there say?”

Shocked. They would be shocked if they even believed it. You would not have believed it of yourself a few hours ago. But now you are coming all over his face and hand and it is still not enough. You have never begged for anything but the words are on your lips, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, fingers swirling at your entrance. He pushes in and out, just his fingertips, tormenting you. “That just made you needier, didn’t it? Tsk.” He sighs dramatically. “I don’t usually offer that. It’ll cost you.”

“I’ll cook the recipe on page sixteen too,” you say, making him laugh naturally again.

“What a bargain,” he says. He grabs his jeans and fishes a condom out of the back pocket. He even seems to make a show of that. He puts it on and fists his cock for you, standing above you while you catch your breath. When you reach for him, he grabs your wrists and yanks you up. He is effortless and quick, as always, spinning you around and pressing your hands to the back of the seat.

“You know the rules,” he says. “Hands there or I tie them up. That’s my girl.”

You follow his directions and bend over, feeling utterly debauched before he is even inside you. He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties aside again. You are fully dressed and he is completely naked, but you somehow feel more exposed, more vulnerable in his confident hands. He holds your hips and eases inside you, inch by solid inch until he is pressed up against your backside, buried to the hilt.

“That’s it,” he says, tone still cocky though it soon gives way to panting. He makes a few rough sounds of his own, fucking you quick and dirty in this small room. You are going to walk out of here smelling and looking like sex itself, dishevelled and shaky and well-fucked. Practically a new woman, one you are eager to know, containing as many contradictory dualities as Seungmin.

Seungmin, your goofy friend, who throws his head back as he drives into you again and again, shushing you when you get too loud. He muffles his own cry in your shoulder when he comes, still rocking against you for a moment after that.

“Fuck,” you say, dropping onto the seat after. He is tugging his jeans back on, though his eyes are on you. It is a scrutinous stare again. You undoubtedly have questions for each other. For now, you just smile, taking another shuddery breath as you come down from your high. “Well,” you say. “That might have been worth page seventeen too.”

His gaze softens, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile. He leans over you, brushes his nose against yours, and finally kisses you. It is the soft, tender kiss you dreamed about so long ago. It leaves you as breathless as everything else.

“All right, neighbour,” he says, “it’s a date.”

#kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin smut #seungmin smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x you #stray kids x you #kim seungmin x you #valentinesdaystories #kpop fanfiction

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wooataes · 10 months

Text

Bangtan’s Receptionist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader, implied ot7 x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Mafia AU, swearing, Death, blood, injuries, mentions of human trafficking but nothing too detailed, guns, character death.

Summary: Bangtan’s contracts are clear and concise. They are to be followed to the letter, including the most important rule, do not touch their men.

A/N: Just another generic Mafia Yoongi Drabble I couldn’t stop thinking about since Haegeum came out. 🫠 I could possibly turn this into a little oneshot series for each member, let me know if you want more!

- Tae 🥰💜✨

Request to join my taglist here!

Masterlist

Min Yoongi, in simple terms, is a straight cut business man. With his 6 other colleagues, his brothers, he runs Bangtan Industries, which on the outside seems like a clean cut courier company. On the inside however, the cargo that is transported by Bangtan Industries is more than just letters and stationary for offices. Yoongi and his boys, as the rivals know them, are extremely loyal to their men who work alongside and under them, even so far as to including in contracts that they can be terminated if any harm comes to any member of Bangtan Industries, even as far as the janitor who cleans the office on weekends. Any attack on their men is an attack to them directly, and the whole world knows of this fact.

You were hired 3 years ago by the CEO of Bangtan, Kim Namjoon to be the front of the company, their receptionist and on occasion, assistant for all 7 leaders. They’re all particularly fond of your bubbly presence in the office building, always happily greeting the bosses with a smile and providing homemade lunches on occasion, which usually is more often than not. You always make sure the boys keep their health up, not even phased by their attitudes when they spent too many hours without sleep. You’ve been the most consistent employee, and the members are more than grateful to have you.

“Good morning, Master Min!” You chirp as Min Yoongi strolls through the office door, adjusting his tie. He can’t help but give you a soft smile.

“Y/N, you know that I’d rather you call me Yoongi when its just us. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh, I know, I’m just way too used to it!” You grin as you place a take-away coffee cup and a wrapped toasted sandwich on the desk in front of you. “Breakfast is served.”

“You also don’t have to do that every morning too.” He lets out a huff with a grateful smile. “I hope you got your usual too. If I find out you didn’t, I’m forcing you to take your break early to go get.” Yoongi chuckles as you wave the second paper cup on your hands. He nods with finality and takes your makeshift breakfast for him and makes his way to his office.

After a quiet morning, you’re startled by a loud bang of the doors to the entrance opening and a large man in a 3 piece suit with his gaggle of men trailing in behind him, clearly armed, stalking up to your front desk.

“Good morning, sir. How can I be of help today?” You hum, the large men not phasing you.

“We’re here to see Min.” The man grumbles, hands squeezing the edge of the desk.

“Oh of course,” you smile, typing up on your computer. “Give me a few moments to see if he’s available to see anyone right now.”

You can feel the mans eyes on you as you’re typing, waiting for the response to pop up.

“Ah, I’m sorry sir, Master Min isn’t available right now. You are more than welcome to take a seat and wait until he’s ready-”

You yelp as the man reaches over, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up so you are face to face with him. You wince, his nails digging into your skin and small trickles of blood running down your arm.

“Listen here, you little bitch,” he seethes, “i have been trying to get on Min’s ass for 2 weeks about my fucking cargo I purchased from him and it still hasn’t arrived yet. If you don’t get him out here, I’m storming in there myself and getting my shit back.”

“What on earth is going on here?” Yoongi steps out from his office after hearing the commotion, adjusting the cuff on his white button up as he stalks up to the reception desk. “Ah, Mr Yang. I was waiting for you to show up.”

“Min.” Yang hissed, dropping your wrist and pushing you back into your seat, which Yoongi takes note of. “Where the fuck is my cargo? You said it would be here within the month and yet its the 27th and nothing.”

“Miss L/N.” Yoongi speaks, causing you to snap your head towards him. “Did he hurt you?” He eyes your wrist, which you’re trying to hide under the desk, clearly not very well as it is still in Yoongi’s line of vision.

“O-oh, no, Master Min. I’m fine, really.” You stutter out, giving him a smile.

“I will deal with you after I take care of business.” He murmurs, looking down at your hidden wrist, blood smearing into your blouse. “Mr Yang, if you could come inside. I do believe my receptionist shouldnt have to deal with the likes of this, wouldn’t you agree?” His tone is icy as Yang grunts, nodding his head before pushing past Yoongi and strutting through into his office with his men following behind. “Y/N, I would recommend playing sone music for the next 10 minutes, okay?” is the last thing Yoongi asks of you before closing the door behind him.

“I dont understand why you are so upset, Yang. I gave you exactly what you asked for.” Yoongi hums, sitting at his desk and watching Yang and his men stand over the desk menacingly.

“Thats bullshit and you know it, Min.” He barked, slamming his fist on the table.

“Oh, is it?” He raises his eyebrow, leaning forward and placing his chin on his hands. “Do explain why, because the way I see it, you asked for X amount of drugs and X amount of guns and ammo. Am I wrong?”

“You know what half of those drugs were code for, you ignorant shit.”

“Oh, no no no.” Yoongi chuckled, standing up, revolver in hand. “See, now, if you were implying what you think you are implying, and I truly hope you’re not, then you’ve worked with the wrong man.” He smirked, holding the gun up towards Yang.

“You see, if you read through the terms of our contract - Bangtan do not associate with anything involving trafficking women and children. I truly hope that isnt what you wanted.” Yoongi tilted his head, glaring at Yang. “Is it?”

Yang swallowed lightly, looking between his men, who all have their guns by their sides and their hands up. They know Min’s reputation. They know better than to fuck with them.

“Ah…” Yang sighed anxiously, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “You are right. I believe I was mistaken. It appears that all our cargo was in order. Isn’t that right, boys?” He glanced between his men, who all nod shakily. “Now that we have that misunderstanding out of the way, I don’t think there’s anything else to talk about, so I will take my leave now, Min.” He turns to leave, only to freeze when the revolver now presses against his temple.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast.” Yoongi chuckles, kicking Yang’s knees out from underneath him, forcing him to kneel. “I would’ve been willing to let you go, no questions asked about what fucked up shit you’re into,” he leans down now, whispering into his ear. “but then you laid hands on my receptionist.”

Yang’s eyes widen, struggling against Yoongi’s boot digging into his legs. “What?” he breathed out.

“Did you even read the contract, Yang?” Yoongi hissed now, pressing the gun harder against his head. “Now, you are more than welcome to come in here, ranting and raving about me and the shit I do, I really couldnt give a flying fuck.. but as soon as you touch my people and my men, now theres fucking hell to pay. Rule number fucking 3 my friend. Do NOT touch my men. Do you have anything to say to defend your pathetic ass?”

“I’m sorry,” Yang blubbers out, hands shaking. “I really didn’t mean it, Min! I-I-”

“Save it for hell, Yang.” He squeezes the trigger, letting the body fall to the floor.

“Come on,” you hissed, aggressively rubbing water over the sleeve of your blouse, earphones blaring music in your ears as Yoongi directed. You’ve been scrubbing for 5 minutes and sadly nothing is working for you. At this point, you haven’t even looked at your arm, now bruising and stained with small trails of your blood.

A figure steps into your line of sight, causing you to lift your head quickly and push the headphones off your head. “Oh, Master Min!” You gasp out, seeing his white shirt splattered with blood. “Did you need me to get your shirt booked in to the dry cleaner?” You start typing up the website to get the booking made when you feel his hand take your wrist.

“Does it hurt?” Yoongi asks quietly, looking down at you through his eyelashes, letting his fingertips run along the marks Yang left.

“O-oh.. um.. a little, but nothing I cant handle!” You smile sweetly at him as he shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t have to handle it at all.” He frowns, using a damp cloth to gently wipe away the trails of your blood before taking some paper towel and drying your arm off. “I do apologize, you didn’t sign up to deal with that shit. I should have been out here waiting for Yang’s arrival.”

“Master Min,” you smiled softly, letting him tend to your arm - you knew it made him feel better when he helped Bangtan with their wounds. “Please don’t stress, I knew what I signed up for for this job.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he delicately starts placing bright pink Hello Kitty band-aids over your scratch marks.

“Dont laugh.” He grumbles, patting the band-aids down so they stick. “Jimin insisted that we got these to make Taehyung laugh whenever he was hurt.” He lied, Jimin had snuck to you that Yoongi kept his Hello Kitty band-aids with him just in case any of the girls in the office - another word for just you and you alone - were hurt - he just never got to use them until now. But you’d never tell him that you knew. Instead, you just smile and let Yoongi tend to your wounds.

It may not be the best job in the world, but at least you know your bosses have your back.

#bts angst #bts fluff #bts ot7 x reader #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi mafia AU #BTS mafia AU #BTS AU #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x You #min yoongi

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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months

Text

Mimic

McFoord x Baby!Reader

Summary: You're definitely Katie's child

Hiding the pregnancy had been difficult.

Caitlin had picked up an ankle injury around the same time as she started to show so it was easy to write it off as long-term, hunkering down in the house like some kind of hermit.

Hiding you away for a year had been even harder.

Some fans were eagle-eyed and as a result, you were never posted on any social media. You didn't even come to training. You'd never met any of the Arsenal girls in person at all even though you were approaching eighteen months.

Which was why it was so shocking for everyone involved when Katie got out of the car for a home match against Manchester City with a child on a backpack leash.

As soon as you are on your feet, you attempt to escape but Katie tugs on your leash to stop you in your tracks.

You give her a foul look in return before you're plucked into Caitlin's arms.

The crowd watching the players arrive all scream out questions as they walk inside.

"It's nice to finally meet the little one," Kim says pointedly as the two of them arrive in the locker room.

"You've seen her before," Katie replies.

"Over the phone doesn't count," Kim says," She's a little cutie. You must be proud."

Caitlin watches you from the corner of her eye as you methodically rip everything out of her cubby and throw it on the floor. "Something like that."

"She's just like me!" Katie's been waiting for ages to be able to brag about you so she's lapping up all the attention.

"She has a bit of a temper," Caitlin confesses when Katie runs off to show you to everyone else in the changing room," Definitely gets that from Katie.

"We didn't expect to see her today..."

"Babysitter cancelled. There were no other options. We'll probably just tie her leash to a post and call it a day. She'll wander around otherwise."

"She's restless?"

Caitlin winces. "Feral might be the word. I love her but...Katie calls her a gremlin sometimes."

Kim looks past Caitlin to where you're now chewing on Katie's fingers, methodically biting down on each one as she introduces you to everyone.

"Well...she's certainly Katie's..."

Caitlin laughs. "Don't I know it."

You're being surprisingly tame today, for what it's worth, even as you try to make another break for it. You're yet again pulled back by your kiddie leash and Caitlin is left to marvel over just how steady you are on your feet.

It had been hard hiding you from the fans and even harder to not fold and continue to keep you away from their teammates. That second one wasn't even planned but you'd come out a little sickly and spent a few weeks in hospital.

It was enough to cause Katie to put the entire house on lockdown for months after your birth when getting chest infections became your norm.

By the time you were healthy and fit and coming into your own personality, it was too much of a risk to bring you to practice with all of the cameras around.

Either way, it's all ruined now because Caitlin knows the videos of you walking in on your kiddie leash are all over Twitter.

The cameras are all pointed towards you as Caitlin walks out onto the bench to start the game. Katie crouches down next to you, littering kisses all over your face as you giggle.

"I'll see you in a bit, gremlin," She says," You be good for your Mummy."

You garble out a few noises that Katie repeats back to you with a soft smile.

"You know," Steph laughs," Now that she's been spotted in the wild, you don't have an excuse for Sam and her kid to meet her. I hear her Chook's getting bored of waiting."

Caitlin sighs deeply as you slam two of your blocks together to show Leah the noise they make. "I don't think the world could take it if Sam's Chook and our Gremlin met. It's too much rough play for any pair."

"I think you underestimate Sam's Chook. I heard she's been very helpful and careful since Sam hurt her knee."

"It's not Chook I'm worried about." Caitlin tilts her head towards you where you've started to amuse yourself by kicking Leah's shin, giggling every time your little foot makes contact.

You head whips around as your watch your Mam get tripped nearby, landing with a thud.

You screech loudly and go to march towards her, grumbling and frowning as you go. You're stopped by a tug on your leash and a pointed look from your Mummy.

You recognise that look and point over at where your Mam is dusting herself off. "Fell," You say to Mummy," Mam fell."

Caitlin has to suppress her laughter. You've got a curious blend of hers and Katie's accents. Sometimes you sound fully Australian like Harper when you speak but other times it's like Caitlin gave birth to a mini Katie because your inflection is exactly the same as hers.

You sound like Katie now. You look like her too, hands on your hips and face like thunder.

"Your Mam did fall," Caitlin says as she pulls you closer," But she's gotten up now. She's fine."

You don't look convinced as you throw a nasty look over at the referee who did nothing against the clear foul.

"Do you remember my friend Steph? You met her on the phone before? Can you say hi?"

"Hi!" You chirp, giving her a beaming smile that shows off the teeth you have.

It's kind of funny to reconcile this beaming, happy version of you with the one that was screeching at the ref just minutes ago.

"Hi," Steph coos," It's very nice to meet you in person."

You're still smiling as you nod, bouncing on your feet as Caitlin digs around in your backpack. You seem to know what time it is because you turn that beaming smile from Steph to your Mummy.

"Bottle?" You ask hopefully and Mummy rewards you with a bottle full of milk that you hastily shove into your mouth.

You sit down at her feet as you chug your drink. Mummy runs a soft hand through your hair as you take a break and lean into her, wiggling back until you hit her legs.

You turn to smile at her and she smiles back.

Your drink is all empty in a little bit and you focus back on the football match in front of you. You clumsily climb to your feet in outrage when the referee shows your Mam a yellow rectangle.

You don't exactly know what it is but you know it's bad and you don't like it being shown to your Mam. You screech and throw your bottle, stamping your feet.

"No!" You say loudly and the bench behind you bursts into laughter," No! No! Bad! Bad referee!"

Caitlin buries her head in her hands as she tugs firmly on her leash when you attempt to run onto the field to give the ref a piece of your mind.

"She's definitely Katie's," Steph howls through her laughter.

#woso x reader #mcfoord x reader #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe #caitlin foord x reader #caitlin foord #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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fillinforlater · 6 months

Text

Eleven to One: Scandalous Shooting

Male Reader x Ahn Yujin

Length: 3140 words

Tags: quickie sex, semi-public sex, might get caught, sex toys, toy use in public, a tiny bit of feet kink/admiration, standing sex, from behind, hard sex, very wet, very close to squirting, very close to losing your career, megalomaniac!you

TW: semi-public sex, I guess lol

Inspiration: the GIF below. Pure sex.

Credt: @sooyadelicacies, my wonderful co-writer in this series. You can find more parts here!

(A/N: After almost three weeks, I'm finally back! Eleven to One is far from being over, view this as sort of an interlude with a big plot point and some nice, good fun with our hot af Ahn Yujin. Enjoy!)

“Excited for my new shoot? Yujin has sent a video.”

"Fuck you dumb bitch, suck it just like that."

Your cock was currently slamming the throat of a gagging Kim Chaewon for what could be between one minute and one hour, anything in between really, but either way, her salvation has just arrived. You pull out of her huffing and puffing mouth and with no further thought wasted on the training session, you prepare to leave.

"What? Where are you going asshole?" Chaewon shouts, baffled, furious, most importantly baffled when you instantly have your hands around her neck and glare down at her, petite and small, kneeling on the floor, one could almost mistake her for a good girl. Chaewon is not yet there though.

"My desire and cock is needed elsewhere. You're not a priority, only a cheap convenience. Yujin is demanding my attention, rather, I demand her body right now."

Chaewon's face further contorts to a scowl, as you expected. There is the spirit to fight, fight back, fight you, fight whoever opposes her. This spirit is slowly but surely bending to your will and the best part about it: Chaewon has no clue.

"I'm better than she is..."

Left to right, you cross her messed up face with your cock and scoff at how pitifully desperate her expression is. A little fingering with Minju, a quick blowjob, a facefuck, and she is already demanding you to stay; over your beloved girlfriend, mind you.

"Don't kid yourself, Chaewon." You get your hand in her hair, comb it then mess it up again. "You are so far behind, it's not even funny to compare yourself to her. Like I said: not a priority.

"Minmin, I need you to tie her up. Chaewon's been bad again."

"Yes Daddy!" Minju says naked before you, she is always in the next room, ready to adhere to your commands with glee and joy, even as she puts ropes around her friends ankles and wrists.

"Oh and Minju,” you add, pants not yet around your waist. “How about you suck me off and I'll blast it all over Chaewon's face before I leave. If you are fast, I’ll allow you to lick it off of her too."

Minju’s eyes brighten and she nods furiously. Soon she’ll nod on your cock.

It always fascinates you how easy it is to get into certain areas as long as you look determined and wear the appropriate attire. You dart into the building where Yujin currently still had her shooting for the 1000th magazine her stunning face will be featured on.

Is this an issue for you? No. Yujin is yours, ready to go the extra mile for you every single day. She accepts your craziest desires, the family of lustful friends around the two of you, hell, she risks her entire hard earned career and reputation for you. No reason to mistrust her or be envious because people get to see her face or shoulder or feet—

Okay, this is where you draw the line. Yujin just looks too good; her curvy, willing body on the drawer, hair done to tempting perfection, gaze full of sex and then she sticks her bare feet out. You have to stop it, though it's already on camera, they can’t have more of that.

Behind a group of staff members you come to a halt. Get on your toes and look over their heads to find Yujin, in talks with the director. You hear whispers about some reshoots, Yujin handles the small, direct criticisms like a professional. Of course your eyes also drop from her face to her hips, then even lower to her feet, which are currently hidden in two ugly slippers.

Blending in with the crowd, you make a mental note to speed up plans for your next merger, which is right around the corner, only some stupid, posh guys in suits hesitating, because they don’t want to lose face to Hyewon’s non-nonsense negotiation tactics. After this final chess move, there is no more sneaking around after that. It's a checkmate for any and every doubt. Nothing can stop your fantasies from coming true.

You wait for Yujin to notice you, but then grow impatient. Tapping on your pants pocket, you push a button and notice from a distance a twitch of pleasure on her face as she quickly scans the room to find you.

Perfect, she still has it on her. Whenever Yujin goes out, she has the option to take a small bullet vibrator from her purse and use it to relieve some stress or make a boring schedule more fun. The vibrator is connected with both your and her phone, so you can always test if she knows that you are nearby—and also have your way with her, of course.

Yujin’s libido is great enough for such a bold move and of course she has found you immediately, but instead of going straight towards you, she continues her duty. After all, the reshoots have to continue.

"This scene right here, on top of the drawer," the director says. Yujin gets into position, and thank God she kicks off the slippers.

You lick your lips a little before turning into a scowl. You push the button again, only this time on a higher setting. If you arrived, you were the top priority, not some wannabe director having his eyes look at the most sex-oozing woman to ever walk on this earth. Watching Yujin squirm, you decide to pull out your phone and make a call. The call.

"Hyewon, plans have changed. I want the merger motion to go forward right now. I'm done waiting."

"Yes, Master!"

You only had to wait as you watched Yujin continue to try and control herself under the power of the toy inside her. As the minutes and poses went on, it became harder for her to withstand the buzzing pleasure, though the constant background noise has everyone except you blissfully unaware of the vibrators presence. You have to admit, waiting is the thing you hate the most in this world, but with Yujin on the edge, in public, right before your eyes, it’s more than bearable.

"Miss Ahn, is everything okay?" the cameraman asks, worried and puzzled by Yujin's expressions and the increasing redness on her cheek.

"Hm? Oh yeah, I'm gu-ud. Should I try a different pose?"

"How about you put your legs up on it, like you did earlier?" the director suggests.

When it comes to poses, magazine shoots, and being in front of the camera in general, Yujin is a goddess in every aspect. Cute, thrilling, hot, seductive, cool, she can do it all—and today she decided to give the people what they want.

This tease cannot go unpunished. You continue to let the vibrator do its thing on a low setting to not elicit any unwanted moans and just wet her crotch more and more. It might not be noticeable on the black dress, but she is about to soak it, let her juices run down her legs and pool at her marvelous feet. You are insatiable, not even stopping when she looks at you with begging puppy eyes—

Yujin is at your mercy; only you can get her out of this.

A message from Hyewon lights up your phone. It is done, Master. Well spoken, she must have really pushed those otherwise tenacious executives around hard to get it done this quickly. Smiling, you decide to make your presence known, startling the crew.

"Mr. Director, you should be getting a phone call any moment now, I'm here to supervise the rest of this shoot. You're all doing wonderful, but I want to make sure Yujin's health is prioritized. Could we go for a lunch break now?"

"Sir, who are you—" The shrill ring of his phone interrupts the bewildered director, though his bewilderment only increases with every second the phone call continues. He hastily runs from set to set, gathering staff members, phone still pressed to his cheek.

"What have you done now?" Yujin snarls, her body not on the drawer anymore, unstable next to you. She grabs your suit, but elect to You ignore her and watch the staff flock out, the directors face full with sweat, an apologetic gesture towards you.

"So-sorry, Sir, we of course take the health of the idols very seriously. I didn't know you were managing her."

"It's alright," you say reassuringly, hand in a pocket, and in the thrill of the moment, you push the vibrator to the strongest setting. "Are you~ alright, Miss Ahn?"

Yujin cries out, her shriek startling the director. He tries to react quickly, but you put on your sternest, most serious face, really, the feat of a great actor, though that is par for the course in your business.

"Lets not waste any time. Mr. Director .I'll need everybody off the set. I'd rather not have anyone see Miss Ahn like this. Thanks for your understanding."

"I-I, of course, I'll—"

The director throws his hands in the air. His face is pale, he is unsure where to run, left, right; he needs time to catch himself and find the exit as does everyone else. He closes the door with an apologetic bow and you can hear him shout in panic and frustration.

"How the hell did you do that?" Yujin mumbles, her hands on your side to keep herself upright. Look down to find her legs drenched in her own juices, the dress ruined, her hair in a wild mane.

You lick your lips.

"Oh baby girl, you're mine now. I had Hyewon seal the deal. I bought your company, which means, personally and professionally, every part of you belongs to me."

Yujin's puppy eyes have never been bigger—except for maybe the time you first penetrated her tight pussy—though this time you find it hard to make out any clear thought she might have; is it pure bewilderment at the boldness and timing of your move? Is it anger because you purposefully got her into trouble, took things too far, just because you could? Or is it—

"Now what?" Yujin grits her teeth and looks to the wet floor. "This was too risky! Reporters will ask questions, some are going to spy on you, rumors will spread—they will find it out! You can't hide this forever."

You gently rake your hand through Yujin's raven hair and watch her toes tense up. Her entire body radiates tension, stress, like she can see everything crumble. The future looks bleak, nothing but darkness. The ‘young you’ can relate strongly, the bottom is usually dark—but as long as you fight, you'll reach the light. Even in the poorest of areas, someone is able to reach for the stars and create a better place for himself, his family.

A better place, even better than what you believed was already perfect.

"Trust me, Yujin," you coo to her and gently pull her hair back to look down at that concerned face of a beautiful goddess. "This is going to lead to moments greater than you could've ever dreamed of."

She looks at you with a swirl of conflicted emotions, but you don't let her dwell on it for too long as you move in to kiss her, prodding your tongue into her mouth too. You subtly position your left hand's fingers near her wet snatch.

"We don't have—"

"—a lot of time," the two of you whisper simultaneously. It's teamwork, alright, how she finishes your sentence with her needy voice, how you hike up her dress while she fiddles with your zipper, how you both find a bit of cover in the far corner of the room. If someone were to come in, you'd at least not be seen, but by the way Yujin squirms when you pull at the cord of the oval vibrator, her voice will make the situation blatantly obvious, even for a blind person.

"You need to stay quiet," you growl in Yujin's neck while you still try to get the plug out of her tight cunt. "This is some serious business, don't disappoint me. Do it like you did last year, on the red carpet.

"Why the fuck—"

The vibrator is still stuck inside her, the walls of Yujin's pussy clamp around it, not ready to let go of the pleasure the constant vibration brings. If it wasn't for your arm around her waist, Yujin would've dropped to the floor already. She is unable to resist it, it's deep inside her, it's snuck and comfortable.

A conflict for you, for her: Can you really let her cum just like this again? It would not be the great, immediate release for your cock you were looking for, but the humiliation, Yujin's embarrassment would make you ascend to a new level of all-powerfulness. It's the same for her, just the other way around. It seems that she has made up her mind before you though:

"Daddy please, you-you need to leave… let me finish the shoot and—"

But you keep kissing her neck.

"Baby girl," you growl. "Either you cum on my cock after I pound your tight little pussy or I turn that toy in you on maximum for the rest of the day. You'll squirt like a fucking fountain, make a mess and then what? What will the headlines say then?"

"Daddy, please! At home… I'll do whatever you want, just not here."

"You know it already don't you, baby girl? I'm your salvation—my cock is your salvation—with it inside your walls, it will keep your cum from spilling out and save you from becoming breaking news."

This much convincing, with Yujin convulsing, is really confusing, but in the end, she is unable to conceal her desire for you to plug her. Her neediness is an issue and your neediness is the solution.

There is no need or time for a blowjob, you are ready to enter right away, so you grab as much of the black dress as you can and pull it up. Yujin's help would be appreciated, but the horny thing can barely stand on her own, both her hands on your back to find security.

"You're the prettiest when you are this needy, baby girl," you tell her as her large, watery eyes are unable to look anywhere but you. A couple of tears spill over, then down her cheeks when she finally presses out the vibrator from her pussy. "Get your leg up here, on this couch."

The angle is perfect, your throbbing cock aligned—you still need to dive in her delicious full lips with that strawberry flavor to deafen her moans. The dive was almost too late, the draw of her cunt is too strong for your manhood to resist, and of course you fill her fully.

"God, you're so tight, you're always tighter when you're so needy.” Your words come pouring out when you disconnect your lips from hers; it’s like disconnecting from the world and ascending to a place of unknown, unbound, unending power. “I get it now. These shoots, these long and stressful hours. You're so hard working baby girl, but now we can fuck anytime. Isn't that a good thing?"

You thrust harshly and stroke Yujin’s pretty hair. Anytime, anywhere, it all doesn’t matter anymore. What it matters is you in her, above her, all over her. This is what your love is "Tell Daddy how it feels."

"Y-you're so greedy," Yujin huffs out, even after years of almost daily pussy pounding she is unable to control her breathing during sex. "Where, fuck, where will this end?"

"Answer my question, baby. And keep your moans down. I might make you cum, erupt like a pent up volcano. I can already feel the tsunami building up. Admit that you want me this greedy, because nothing can satisfy—"

"Fuck, okay, okay." Yujin grabs the sleeve of your suit with one hand and your nape with the other. "Daddy, own me. My entire life, my career, my social circle—take it." Her eyes are daggers, then a concoction of bliss, devotion and insurmountable expectations. "Take re-responsibility, and I'll be the best baby girl ever."

"You'll be that either way."

Slam her against one of these many thin, unstable decorative background walls, watch it sway dangerously backwards, but fuck her with the same recklessness as before. Yujin's teeth dig into her lower lip, her body losing all it's grip, except for the grip of her cunt, which you have fucked from every angle, sure, but standing has her the tightest. At least, you believe it right now—maybe it's the setting, the chance to get caught, the career ending thrill.

"I'm your good girl, good girl, Daddy, I—"

"Go on and cum. My cock will save you."

A fleeting moment, a moment of silence, no movement, as if time itself freezes. A moment where Yujin truly is powerless, where she can't just walk out and break up with you or throw everything away and live a different life. She is about to scream her orgasm out, and with her arms uselessly hanging on the sides of her convulsing, climaxing, prime body, nothing but you can stop her from getting caught.

And she submits herself to it, the scream never making it to anyone as you silence her with a strong palm on her luscious lips. Yujin shakes and shakes, only hints of juices making their way past your shaft, your base. She is plugged and both her legs and dress are saved—at least from being ruined entirely.

The orgasm continues in waves. Yujin's eyes water, her moans echo back, her knees melt like ice cream in the summer—she has to admit, she is waiting for your cream inside her, though it never comes.

"Good girl," you coo to her and start fixing her hair while still balls deep in her cunt. "I have some spare panties for you. Don't worry, I soaked them in some perfume, they won't smell anything. Remember, Daddy is right here. Just follow my lead."

"Y-yes." Out of breath is an understatement. You suffocated the poor girl to the point of exhaustion. Maybe that is the point, to make her look exhausted, weak, hell, she can barely walk. You support her, watch her put on the panties, swipe away some messed up makeup that would look too wild, too suspicious.

"Hook your arm underneath mine," you tell her. "I'll tell them your ankle is hurt, that we'll go to a doctor, something like that."

"Daddy, why do you go through such lengths for, for this?"

You grin and look down at your girlfriend, mere moments before the photography director comes rushing back onto the set.

"Why are you so tight whenever we might get caught doing this?"

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #ive smut #male reader smut #yujin smut #ahn yujin smut

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sohnric · 4 months

Text

to. my first – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x fem! reader

genre: 90s au. twenty-five twenty-one au, friends to lovers au, exes to lovers au. fluff, slice of life, coming of age, suggestive. highschool au, football player! sunwoo, baker! sunwoo. cheerleader! reader. first love au. what we call wet cat sunwoo. meeting your ex after years and falling back in love with him kind of thing.

warnings: alcohol, throwing up, swearing, reader has hair long enough for a ponytail, a heated make out session or two that alludes to them having sex but no actual smut happens, finger sucking, the reader moping around a lot, no plot just vibes.

word count: 31k

a/n: inspired by me telling @/csenke that sunwoo is my first love. why am i so soft for this man i truly dont know... thank you best friend for betaing this monster i appreciate it a LOT! also thank you to sana @/heemingyu and izzy @/from-izzy for the help on some parts of the fic and brainstorming the ending w me, as well as beta reading small parts of this.

spin-off to my fic millennium bug because sunwoo deserves love too! the reader from eric's fic is referenced to as MB!Y/N in this. you don't have to read the first fic to understand this one, but there are a lot of references in this and i highly encourage you to do so!

they say you never forget about your first love. you guess that's true. (or– a story about reckless love, first kisses, growing up, ambition, and inevitably, failure.)

August 2007

The laughter all around is electric. The music playing in the background makes you sway and hum to the melody, the familiar tunes making your insides light up with a different sense of nostalgia when you remember the times in which these songs were popular. Your tired limbs make you cut your way through the room and sit down on a vacant chair, not really caring about where your designated seat was anymore, just needing to rest for a second before you either throw up from exhaustion or faint from how tired your legs are from all the dancing. Paying a quick goodbye to Juyeon on the dance floor, you heave out a satisfied sigh when your bottom meets the cushioned seat of the chair, eyes zeroing on the filled dance floor.

Feeling a cramp in your foot, you scowl and lean down, ready to do the thing you’ve been desiring for at least the last three hours– if not the whole day. Hands playing with the strap on your heel, you make the shoe come undone before you slip the uncomfortable footwear off your feet, relaxing when your naked limbs meet with the cold tile on the floor.

You don’t really know who in their right mind would have a wedding in the middle of the summer heat, but you guess there are people that are out of their mind like that– and those people are your friends from high school.

Everything about coming back to your hometown has made you feel unpleasantly nostalgic so far– the streets haven’t changed a bit, your childhood home still looks just the same, furniture unmoved, and the air is still as crisp, yet humid as it always was during late August. It’s only tonight that finally makes the weird bittersweetness turn into joy. You’re back home with everyone you’ve ever known, with everyone who’s made you into who you are today. You’re seeing all their faces for the first time in ages– and frankly, it does feel good.

The satisfaction in your veins stays for a bit until a figure dressed in a suit comes into your point of view. It’s not like you’re seeing him for the first time tonight– he’s a big character, even when it comes to this wedding, so it’s hard to not notice him– but as his legs take him towards you in a wobbly nature, it dawns on you that now is maybe finally the time you get to talk to him. Don’t get me wrong– there are no hard feelings between the two of you (or at least you don’t have any, you’re not so sure about his side of the story). It’s just that seeing him dressed in a tux, tie now a little loose around his neck, the twinkle in his eye still present as back when you were both a lot younger, there’s still a strong aftertaste of your feelings towards him somewhere on the tip of your tongue.

His walk is a little lopsided as he grins at you and takes a seat on the vacant chair next to yours, a huff of air escaping his lungs as his body relaxes, limbs falling freely down the sides of his chair. His cheeks are a little red and his hair a little messy– there’s only so much to explain his composure apart from all the dancing he’s done.

“So I see that you still can’t handle your liquor well even after all those years?” you joke, making the boy turn his head to face you, an amused twinkle appearing in his smile.

His eyes are still the same chocolate orbs you know, still the same soft look adorning them whenever he feels particularly ecstatic. He shrugs, jolting his bottom lip out before he sighs to himself. “Well, it’s not every day you are the best man at your best friend’s and your sister’s wedding,” he muses, shrugging.

Laughing at his remark, once again taking in the state of the room– Juyeon, Hyunjae and Haknyeon each dancing somewhere in the middle of the dance floor, MB!Y/N’s friends from university twirling her around in the right corner, Eric staring at the bride with a warm gaze in his eyes, sipping on a drink while resting against one of the tables, clearly taking a mental image to look at every time he feels the need to– it all feels kind of surreal. Who would’ve thought all those years ago that it would end like this?

Well, Eric Sohn, for starters. He confessed to everyone in his wedding speech that he knew he wanted to marry MB!Y/N the moment she kissed him on New Year’s Eve of 1999– him being this cheesy was only acceptable because it was his own wedding. In any other circumstance, Sunwoo wouldn’t be able to let his best friend live this down.

It’s not like you ever expected those two to break up– it just makes you a little in awe at how fast time is passing. “It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it?” you hum, squinting at the flood of people on the dance floor.

“It is,” Sunwoo hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek, “still can’t believe they’re dating. Hell, they’re getting married right now…”

“You can’t believe your sister is dating your best friend?” you laugh, wiping the sweat that’s accumulated off your forehead, the mist appearing there both because of your reckless dancing and because of the unbearable heat of the August night.

“That, and also the other way around,” he hisses, “but I guess they’re both so insufferable that they go well together, so I don’t know why I’m still so surprised.”

Chuckling at his comment– you guess the bond he has with his sister is never to be changed, no matter how many years have passed– you watch as he shrugs off his suit jacket and throws it over the back of his chair, starting to roll up his sleeves to expose his forearms. Eyes following his motions, you clear your throat and force yourself to look back into his eyes when he asks you a question. “What about you, though? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am,” you nod, no hesitation, “it’s really nice to see all of you after so long. Plus, I’m having a lot of fun, so that’s a nice bonus."

“I can see that,” he grins, “by the way you sat on my seat just now, and all–”

“Oh god– I’m sorry,” you gasp, suddenly feeling a little silly. And here you thought he went up to you because he wanted to catch up… “I’ll move, if–”

The sound of Sunwoo’s hearty laugh lands into your ear– it’s just the same as it was back when you were both high schoolers, making your heart soar– before he shakes his head and urges you to stay with a motion of his hand, putting his large palm on your thigh to keep you from moving. “No, no, don’t be stupid,” he says, “I don’t mind. I was looking for you anyway, so you just made it easier for me by sitting here, actually.”

He was looking for you, resonates in your head, the familiar buzzing in your fingertips alerting you of the effect he has on you even tonight. God, maybe you were the one that had too much to drink…

“You were?” you ask, tone of voice light– not at all suspicious.

Sunwoo nods, shrugging. “Well, I guess we have a lot of catching up to do,” he smiles, “don’t we?”

Eyes meeting his, the contact feels electrifying to the point it makes your head spin when you look at him, taking in his glossy eyes and the flush of his cheeks. They’re less round than when you two were young, but his eyes still stay the same– big, round and tender.

He reminds you a lot of the time when you saw him drunk for the first time.

to. my first time getting drunk

April 1999

Havoc rings in his ears like jingle bells, the world around him spinning like he’s on a rollercoaster. His head feels like someone is installing a nail to the middle of his skull and when he looks around, Lee Donghyuck is staring at him with a glass bottle of soju in his hand, urging him to drink more.

Sunwoo doesn’t have it in him to do much else other than shake his head. It feels like he forgot all his vocabulary, not a single word coming out of his mouth or to the awake parts of his brain, watery eyes begging his classmate to not make him drink any more.

What seemed like a good idea just a few moments ago– see, it’s prohibited to drink on school trips, but Kim Sunwoo is infamous for loving to break the rules– now seems like the worst idea of his whole entire life. He feels so sick he thinks he’s going to die of alcohol poisoning, but the laughter around keeps painfully reminding him that he hasn’t even had that much to drink in the first place. The amount of times he’s been called a lightweight this night is making his pride severely hurt, and even graciously intoxicated, he can’t bear the sting this is putting on his already hurt ego.

“Come on, birthday boy! I’m sure you can handle one more,” Donghyuck urges, uncurling Sunwoo’s fist and placing the bottle into his grasp, making the poor boy wince and battle back tears.

He knows he’s being embarrassing. The choice between not dying and not humiliating himself is rather a difficult one, but the moment he finally finishes the crossword puzzle in his brain and puts the glass opening against his lips, the bottle is thankfully taken out of his grasp and discarded somewhere where his eyes can’t reach.

“You’re done for the night, Kim Sunwoo,” you haul at him, shaking your head at the poor boy, “you’re done.”

Sunwoo wants to open his mouth and protest, maybe ask you what you mean, but the moment his lips unseal, he gets a sniff of the alcohol in the air and suddenly, he feels like throwing up. Your eyes lock with his, a pleading– maybe a warning– mirrors in Sunwoo’s gaze, and even though he’s so drunk he feels like he crossed dimensions, he applauds your ability to know just what he means by a single look into his eyes.

“Oh, Christ–” you curse, hurried steps moving to the corner of the room, swiftly grabbing the trash can and running back towards your friend sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor.

You make it just in time to catch the contains of Sunwoo’s stomach into the trash can, making the boy insanely grateful– he’s wearing the new shoes his mum got him for his birthday, and god knows he’d hate it if he ruined them the very first day he can show them off to his football friends.

The whole world disappears into the background as he throws up while making a mental promise to himself to never drink again. The only thing keeping him from losing it all is the feeling of your hand on his back, comforting rubs grounding him back to earth. Giggles fill his ears and he’s sure everyone’s laughing at him– even in his drunken state, he can recognise the shame filling his veins– but before he can open his mouth to argue with his classmates, the sound of your angry voice makes him seal his lips close and listen to the scolding you offer to his teammates for making him drink so much.

“You know he has a weak stomach, Donghyuck!” you huff and puff, your hand still drawing comforting circles to Sunwoo’s back as his head stays stuck in the bucket, not having enough energy to even straighten his spine.

“It’s his birthday! Come on, don’t be so tight-arsed.”

“Well, do you want him to die on his day of birth? That’s not very cool of you,” you growl, the shuffle of your clothing and a pained “ow” escaping his friend’s lips hinting to Sunwoo that you just kicked the right wing to his shin.

Deserved, Sunwoo thinks.

“Can somebody get Eric? I’m pretty sure he’s in Daehwi’s room with MB!Y/N, Minjeong and Jihoon,” you hum, waiting for anyone to follow your orders.

Sunwoo blinks in and out of it, his consciousness giving up on him with the incredible pain in his temples. He feels incredibly grateful to have someone like you by his side not only now, but all the time. The two of you have gotten incredibly closer ever since he joined the football team– and with you being one of the cheerleaders, you’re always somehow around. Not that he’s complaining, of course. It seems like you are one of the more responsible ones in this room right now, and god knows Sunwoo needs a bit of guidance on his day to day ventures.

“Do you think you’ll be sick again?” you ask, voice soft in his ear. “Or can I take the trash can off you now?”

Sunwoo thinks for a bit, then he nods and lets go of the plastic bucket. He doesn’t know what happens to it after and nor does he care– it seems like the alcohol in his veins took away all his sense of object permanence. He can barely see anything in the yellow lights of the room (which makes him believe he is going blind from all the alcohol he’s had– don’t tell him it’s just his eyes getting hazy and confused with how much his head is spinning), but he’s sure he can feel you wiping his tear-stained cheeks (he wasn’t crying– his eyes were just watering) and pulling him closer to you when he threatens to fall over even in his seated position. Your hand comes up to play with his hair when you let him rest his head against your shoulder, your actions making him sleepy, eyes closing on themselves like a threat for him to fall asleep any second.

Something about the care, the loyal protectiveness you take over the boy makes his heart soften. He breaths in your scent, trying his hardest to focus on your presence and not the weird feeling in his stomach– although it’s settled a bit since he threw up, it’s still a little uneasy– and before he knows it, there’s a tap on his shoulder waking him up from the haze.

Sunwoo mourns, not really wanting to move from his position, too comfortable with your fingers threading through his hair– but much to his dismay, your soft voice appears in his ear, telling him he has to get up. “Can you walk on your own? We’re gonna get you back to your room,” you hum, your lips accidentally brushing against the shell of his ear, making everything in him light on fire. He’s not really sure if this is the effect alcohol has on you, but if it is, he’s certain he never wants to drink again.

“Sunwoo?” you call, the way you say his name suddenly all too angelic in his ears– but still not enough for him to answer. “Alright,” you sigh after the dreadful silence, taking charge of the situation, moving away from the boy and offering him your hands to hold on to as you try to get him on his feet, “I guess we’re gonna find out.”

His fingers intertwine with yours as he stares up at you, his vision blurry, but still sharp enough to make out your tired face. The sight is enough to make Sunwoo worry– is he being too much? Are you mad at him? Do you not want to be his friend anymore? – but before he has a chance to address any of those concerns, he’s being tugged up to his feet. Not ready for the weight of his own body, his knees buckle and refuse to work. There is a pair of hands clutching his arm automatically– yours– as another pair holds him up from behind by his waist.

He’s not really sure who was his other savior, but by the silent curse heard from behind, he thinks he recognises Eric’s voice.

“I know I shouldn’t have left him alone,” he hears his best friend say, voice full of frustration.

“You really shouldn’t have,” he hears you sigh, making the poor boy scowl.

It still feels like he can’t really speak, exhaustion taking a toll on him, but he follows the orders as you tell him to get on his best friend’s back– Eric’s crouching figure ready for the impact, waiting for the taller one to clutch onto him so he can carry him into the safety of their shared room. The operation has to be quick if they don’t want to be caught by their teachers while walking through the hall, and somehow, in the distant crevices of his brain, Sunwoo recognises that and he makes no battle to resist, doing exactly as he’s told.

“Man, you’re heavy,” he hears Eric huff under him as the poor boy carries him through the hall. “You’re gonna have a killer hangover tomorrow, dude…”

Sunwoo’s head rests against his friend’s shoulder, hands carelessly hanging around Eric’s neck. He tries to blink away the sleep, desiring to stay awake, when your concerned face appears in his vision and suddenly, he feels insanely guilty.

“I’m sorry,” the two words escape his mouth with no trouble– the first words to appear in his vocabulary after the few minutes of him being surprisingly mute– only to hear his friend chuckle.

“Well, you’re going to be dying from a headache tomorrow, not us,” Eric hums, “so I think you have to apologize to future you first.”

Sunwoo pouts, bangs falling into his eyes making him blink in a desperate try to get the stray hairs away, attempting to make eye contact with your side profile. “Are you mad at me?” he asks, voice a little groggy from all the screaming and drinking.

“What?” you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his question. Your face morphs into a confused expression, the one where a wrinkle appears in between your brows– and it takes everything in Sunwoo not to poke the little line with his pointer finger in utter endearance.

“Are you… mad…?” he asks again, watching as your face morphs into amusement.

“No,” you shake your head, a hint of a laugh in your tone. “Why?”

“You look grumpy.”

“I’m just worried,” you note.

“About?” Sunwoo asks, his intelligence morphing into a one of a 10-year old with the influence the alcohol has on him.

“You,” you say, sighing and shaking your head as you move two steps in front of Eric and open the door to their room, closing it swiftly behind you and following the duo towards Sunwoo’s bed.

The younger one drops the boy into the cushions of his bed with an exaggerated sigh (that might as well be real, for all we know– god knows you wouldn’t be able to carry Sunwoo on your own), and the comfort of the pillow around his head is enough to make Sunwoo’s eyes start closing again, sleep threatening to take over his consciousness.

There’s some noise interrupting his sleep, though, making the boy tear his tired eyes open to notice you walking through the room. Sunwoo finds Eric putting a glass of water onto his bedside table and watches as you put a trash can beside his bed, hushed whispers sent Eric’s way resonating in the quiet room. “Make sure that he sleeps on his side so if he throws up again, he doesn’t choke–”

“Y/N?” he calls your name, watching as you look at him with careful eyes.

“Hm?”

“Are you leaving?” he asks, maybe a little foolishly.

“Yes.”

The boy nods at your reaction, showing his acknowledgement. In the drunken state of his mind, he knows he doesn’t particularly want you to leave, but he’s also fairly certain, finding the rational thought in the sober part of his brain, that you have to leave, and so he lets it go. The drunken state of his mind wins, though, when the next sentence foolishly escapes his lips.

“Please don’t stop liking me after this,” he mumbles, words slurring.

“What?” you ask– confused because you either don’t fully comprehend what he’s trying to say, or because you truly just couldn’t hear what words escaped his mouth– but when you don’t get a clarification, you just nod at the boy, seemingly desperate to keep him happy tonight. “Okay, I won’t.”

“You won’t stop liking me?” he asks, a big pout playing with his features.

“No.”

“Okay.”

That seems to put his mind at ease– enough to make his brain finally turn off and lead him to sleep. He doesn’t really remember what he dreamt of that night, but the last memory he has of the night of his 18th birthday is that you promised to not stop liking him after seeing him a drunken mess, and how he so deeply wished you’ll continue to like him forever.

It hits him only a few months later that the thing he so desperately hoped for that night was that you’ll keep liking him even at his worst– that he didn’t drive you away and one day, maybe, you’ll like him more than just a friend.

to. my first detention

September 1999

Sunwoo was never the one to break the rules.

Well, if you don’t count that one time he skipped class just because he got too bored of it in the middle of the lecture. And it wasn’t even that hard either– he just asked if he could go to the bathroom, and when he got the approval, he stood up and left, never returning.

Or if you don’t count that one time he climbed up the ladder on the side of the school building with his friend Juyeon and had his lunch there. Or that one time he cheated on an exam and made a scene about it when accused of the act, leading the professor into letting him off just that one time.

Sunwoo is usually too lazy to break the rules. Some days, paradoxically, his laziness is what leads him to break the rules. He can’t really help it, even if he tried.

The one time he does break the rules, expecting to be punished by his teacher for coming late to class, it’s not even his fault in the first place. Morning football practice ran late and he didn’t feel like rushing to change out of his practice clothing– see, the laziness is playing a part in this as well– so when he arrived into his Physics lecture, the clock was already 15 minutes after the bell rang for the first period.

Much to his surprise, his teacher didn’t even punish him. “Well, you’re an athlete, so it’s understandable,” he heard, making his lips stretch out into a subtle smile. If he knew that joining the football club would lead him to have such privileges, he would’ve done it a long time ago.

How did he still end up in detention, you may ask? Well, that’s a funny question.

Your flushed face appears in the doorway of the classroom exactly 2 minutes after Sunwoo does, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Your hair tied up in a ponytail is loose now, stray hairs falling out to frame your face, your school uniform wrinkly, shirt not tucked in properly, as you spit out endless apologies to your teacher about being late for lecture.

“I’m really, really sorry about being late,” you bow, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you look around the classroom with apologetic eyes, “I had cheerleading practice and it ran a bit late, so I didn’t have enough time to–”

“Sit, Ms Y/L/N,” the teacher hums, “if you have time to do any other activities other than being in class, I’m sure you’ll have time to stay after class for detention, am I right?”

“Sir, I really–”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Now, are you seeing the difference in the way you and Sunwoo were treated? That’s right. It may not look like it, because the young football player rarely puts effort into anything (other than the game), but when something angers him, it’s quite difficult for him to keep it in.

And that’s exactly why his ass is currently sitting in one of the chairs of his classroom, legs spread wide as he looks around the silent room in boredom. Accusing his teacher for being sexist and holding to double standards wasn’t the best idea, but it was enough to get him into detention alongside you.

His eyes get caught up with something– someone– sitting two desks in front of him, one to the right, scribbling their homework into their notebook. At least you are using up the detention time for important and useful things, he thinks. That won’t stop him from interrupting you in your task, though. Even better– it encourages him.

Tearing out a piece of paper from his notebook, Sunwoo fishes for a pen in one of his pockets, writing a short note that says: Wanna get ramen after this? before he crumbles the paper into a small ball. After watching the teacher for a few seconds, making sure that he’s not going to get caught, he throws the ball in your direction, aiming straight for your head.

He misses. Well, that’s why he plays football and not volleyball– he doesn’t have good aim when it comes to his hands– but nonetheless, the note ends up hitting your shoulder before it bounces off and falls to the ground.

Confused, you look around before you find Sunwoo staring at you, pointing towards the paper on the ground with a grin on his face. You sigh, sending a telepathic signal of ‘you’re acting like a child again,’ straight into his brain before you reach for the paper ball and take it into your hands, fingers uncurling the thin material and reading out the words he’s sent to you.

Only a few seconds pass before you throw the ball back to him– he catches it in his hands, earning an approving look from you at his strangely fast reflexes, making a sense of victory flow gracefully through his veins. A frown settles on his face when he reads out your reply, though.

can’t. I promised Aeri I’ll hang out with her later. we’re going for frozen yogurt.

Sunwoo furrows his brows. Oh how he hates to be denied.

I can join!! i could use some froyo

You send a tired look to him over your shoulder when you receive the message, rolling your eyes at his comment. It’s obvious that Sunwoo can’t join– he knows it by the look in your eyes. Hell, he knew he wasn’t invited even before he asked– he just likes to see your frustration. Something about the way your face scrunches up, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, amuses him in a way he can’t really describe.

you could’ve gotten yours instead of staying in detention. what was that about, by the way?? I’ve never seen anyone willingly do detention… you must be out of your mind

The message makes him chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. His motives are clear– well, at least in his brain. If he stays in detention, he can see you for some more. Which means he can hang out with you more (or look at the back of your head from afar, whichever you grace him with on that particular day). And he wants to spend as much time with you as he can, well, because… because he just likes to do so. Why?

Don’t ask. He hasn’t thought it out that far yet.

I just like things to be fair. I came late too :((

He writes back instead. Fairness is the last thing he cares about if the world is in his favor. If the world is unfair to you, though– that’s another thing.

weirdo.

You write back. The pen is already in his hand, ink getting hotter as he masters up a reply, when the loud voice of his teacher cuts through the classroom and announces that detention is over and they’re all dismissed. Something in Sunwoo’s stomach drops.

Sighing, he puts the note back into his pocket (and will forget to throw it out. Then, he’ll find it there after a few days, unravel the ball and read over the letters with a smile. He won’t throw it out then either– he’ll crumble it back and keep it there until the paper wears out and forms into litter in the pocket of his pants). Gathering his things into his bag, he swings the backpack over one of his shoulders before catching up with you, already halfway out of the classroom. You seem to be in a rush to meet Aeri– he understands– but there’s still one more thing he needs to do.

Clearing his throat, Sunwoo approaches you from the back. “Hey!”

“Hi,” you hum, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. “Aeri’s waiting for me outside, so I gotta–”

“Wait, I– I have something for you,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. Why does he suddenly feel so nervous? The words his sister said to him yesterday keep resonating in his head, and although he knows it’s not true and he doesn’t see you in that way, his stomach churns and he clutches his hand into a fist by his side, a desperate act to ground himself.

“What?” you look at him, eyebrows furrowed, all confused. Sunwoo’s not the one to give gifts– sure, he pays for your meals sometimes, but that’s only because you share them and he comes to the logical conclusion that he eats more of the portion than you do anyways, so it’s only fair.

“Um… well, my sister… she was making those bracelets yesterday and she made me do it with her, because she’s really annoying when she wants to be,” he mumbles, fishing for the bracelet in the front pocket of his backpack, lying straight through his teeth.

You stare at him with wide eyes, completely unreadable to Sunwoo. Well, he already said it, so he may as well just dig his hole even deeper. The yarn is soft under his touch when he twirls the bracelet in his fingertips, eyes focusing on the shades of red and pink, suddenly too afraid to face you and look you in the eyes. “And, uh… we made too many, so I brought you one, because… you’re my friend, and all,” he mumbles, chewing the inside of his cheek.

His sneakers are oh so interesting to look at in the few seconds he spends waiting for your reply. He feels like he’s in court, waiting for his ordeal– anxiety making him bounce on the tips of his feet, his other hand clutching the strap of his backpack for dear life.

“Did you make that?” you ask, tone of voice genuinely appreciative.

“Yeah,” he shrugs.

He did not.

“That’s– that’s really cute,” you gasp, making the boy finally look up. When he finds that the words are addressed to the bracelet his sister made, not his act of kindness, something inside of him gets irritated, but the little devil in his chest leaves just as fast when you meet his eye and take the yarn from his hands, examining the red and pink knots from a closer distance.

“Yeah,” he hums, not really knowing what to say.

“Can you tie it for me?” you ask, offering the bracelet back to the boy and smiling at him, waiting for him to circle it around your wrist and secure it to place with a knot. It’s a bit long, the ends sticking out to different directions, but Sunwoo admits that it does look quite nice against your skin, and that if he forgets about the fact that it was his sister who actually made the bracelet (even though he begged her to teach him for approximately two hours, going as far as bribing her with his snacks), he does feel quite proud of the gesture.

There’s something possessive about the bracelet, he thinks. It's like a sign to everyone that you have someone who cares about you enough to tie it around your wrist. It’s like saying hey, this is my best friend! No one else enjoys their company enough to make a bracelet to prove it, but me. It’s like a silent translation of the heart’s calling: this person is mine. They’re not allowed to take this off until I die.

Sunwoo feels a bit giddy as he watches you admire the yarn around your wrist. You sport the same expression as Eric did when he forced a bracelet out of his sister yesterday– eyes glimmering, the widest grin on your features. While he may be sure what the face meant when it came to his best friend (although he tries to close his eyes from the obvious crush he has on his sister), he’s not quite certain when it comes to you.

In his mind, you smile like this at everyone. You’re just that kind of person.

But oh does he wish you mirror Eric’s feelings on the matter. Oh does he hope you tell everyone he is the one who gave the bracelet to you– he hopes you boost in front of your friends, tell them just how much you like it.

…maybe his sister was right.

Maybe the bracelet had a deeper intention.

August 2007

“So,” Sunwoo hums, taking a salty chip from the bowl settled in the middle of the table, looking over at you with a curious gaze, “how have you been?” he asks, chewing as he waits for you to answer.

It’s an easy question, one would think– and it’s true, it’s not the most difficult thing to answer. But considering the circumstances, the fact that you and Kim Sunwoo haven’t seen each other since you both graduated from high school, despite telling each other you’ll stay in contact and see each other whenever you have the chance to– it gets a little bit more difficult. It’s been 6 years, many things have changed, you had your fair share of good things happening to you as well as the bad.

What do you tell Sunwoo, though– a friend you lost somewhere along the way, much like everyone? Well, you can’t really blame him for growing distant with you– although to this day, you don’t really know the reasoning. He was the first one to leave, and although you always wished him the best, nobody can really blame you for doing your part at flying out of your nest. Everyone has to experience the outside world before they can find their place in it, no?

It’s not your fault that you weren’t as successful as you wanted to be…

“Well, you know,” you shrug, “so and so. Many things happened, but I guess I’m doing fine,” you conclude, nodding to yourself.

The face Sunwoo offers you is one of concern. You recognise that this is not really what he wanted to hear– not really what he expected you to say. The both of you were always ambitious, shooting for the stars, so it would be nice to know that at least one of you finally chased down the dreams you’ve had since you were young.

“What about you?” you ask quickly, shielding yourself from more interrogation. “How did football go?”

That has Sunwoo chuckling, averting his gaze. He takes a sip of the soda placed on his table before he turns to you again and answers the question, shrugging to himself. “Didn’t really go as I planned,” he says, nodding to himself. “Guess I lost many years on it, but oh well. Can’t really take it back now.”

“Don’t say that,” you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek. The answer he offered you was not surprising to you– not that you didn’t believe in his abilities, not at all. It’s just that by now, if Sunwoo’s dreams came true, you’d be aware. You’d hear about him everywhere. You’d see him on the news, in the paper… It seems like your friend has disappeared out of the spotlight he always wanted even sooner than he could walk straight into the stardom. You wouldn’t say you were keeping tabs on him, no– you just cared enough to try to look for him in every place you could. “It wasn’t lost years. You did what you loved, and you tried your best.”

“I know,” he says, scrunching up his nose in an adorable manner before he sighs, “I’m just moping around. Besides, I quite like the life I’ve had since coming back home,” he admits.

“You do?” you ask, eyes glimmering in the lights. Something in you shifts– moves to a more comfortable place at the information. It’s strange that hearing that he’s doing fine still makes you feel at peace. It’s been years– you really shouldn’t care by now.

“I do,” he nods, “I work at Juyeon’s father’s bakery now. I didn’t really expect to like it, but there’s something charming about it, I’ll have you know,” Sunwoo says, taking another handful of chips into his hand before feeding them to himself, seemingly trying to chase down the tipsiness in his bloodstream.

That drags out a giggle out of you, shaking your head at the news. “I wouldn’t take you for a bakery kind of guy,” you say, “I can’t really imagine you in the kitchen.”

“Well, times change, Y/N-ie,” the nickname slips out between his lips like a punch to your gut, his teasing tone dragging nails to you in a weird sense of nostalgia, “I’m the best baker in town right now. People go crazy over my cinnamon rolls,” he nods, pointing a finger to you as if to prove his point.

“I find that hard to believe,” you squint at him, shaking your head in disbelief.

“You’ll have to come and find out,” he says, the sentence so casual that the contrast of his following statement has your heart drop a little, “well, if you’re… staying around for a bit, of course…”

Humming, watching as his eyes soften at the shift in your composure, you nod in agreement. “I’ll make sure to add that to my plan.”

Sunwoo nods in acknowledgement. Swallowing down the chips that were in his mouth, he dusts off his hands off the excess salt and licks his lips before speaking up again, seemingly collecting his thoughts. “So you’re staying around for a while?” he asks, a little bit cautious.

He doesn’t really know how sensitive this topic is for you– you don’t even know if he’s aware of your previous whereabouts, if he knows where you left off to and why– but Sunwoo stays caring, no matter the amount of time you spent not talking, no matter the big canyon that slowly formed in between the two of you in the years of no contact. It’s something you’ve always appreciated about him. He liked joking around, but he always knew where the boundaries laid, always knew when the joke went too far. He tried hard to avoid poking around too much, but he always made sure to apologize if he realized he hurt someone’s feelings. He’s a spark of violent fire, but he’s also tamed like a fireplace when he wants to be– warm, comfortable. It’s easy to feel like it’s back in the old times when you’re around him. It’s easy to pretend neither of you ever really left.

“I am,” you nod. “Things… didn’t really work out for me either, y’know,” you chuckle, the dry kind that shows just how bitter you are about the matter. “I went to New York with the internship my aunt arranged for me in KBS, but I guess I just… wasn’t really good enough to keep full-time.”

“Don’t say that,” Sunwoo mirrors your previous statement, an honest attempt at comforting you.

“No, it’s okay,” you laugh, “I stayed abroad for a while, tried hard, but sometimes, it’s just not meant to be, y’know? So after I realized my jobs weren’t making me enough money for a decent living in the States, I came back home,” you say, mouth forming a pout as you speak– the kind that shows you’re lost in thought, making up a plan as you go, “I’ll help my parents out for a while and then look for something to do here, I think.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Sunwoo says, offering you a soft smile. “I… I guess I’d say it’s good to have you back,” he admits, averting his gaze as he says the words, “ever since I came home, it felt like something was missing, so… anyways, you’ll figure it out, so don’t worry too much.”

“Thanks, Sunwoo,” you hum, pressing your lips into a tight smile, heart squeezing a little at his sincerity. It’s strange– it’s been years, having lived through countless different situations that were supposed to change the both of you, shift you into two completely different people– but somehow, Sunwoo still feels the same. Almost as if you two never left. Almost as if you two never drifted apart and instead spent your early twenties side-by-side, just like you always planned on doing.

The boy looks at you from the corner of his eye, a content smile spreading on his lips. You feel the atmosphere shifting, the situation tensing up a bit, and with the discomfort the image of him leaving you alone brings you, the words slip out of your lips with a bit too much ease.

“Would you want to… dance with me? I wanna see if you still remember what I taught you,” you grin, watching as the playful expression mirrors on your friend’s face, a nod eliciting from him that makes you quickly put your shoes back on and get ready for the dancefloor.

“Of course,” he hums, standing up swiftly and wiping his hands on the fabric of his pants before outstretching a hand for you, tone of voice sweet like honey, “my lady?”

to. my first dance

November 1999

“Who are you asking to the dance?” you question one afternoon, the two of you behind the closed doors of his room. There aren’t many times where Sunwoo gets to invite you over– mostly because he’s too shy to have someone around when his sister is home, and his sister isn’t known to have that many friends to hang out with– so the times where he finds you settled on top of the sheets of his bed, he treasures deeply.

“I dunno,” he mumbles, looking up at you from the comfort of his rug, shrugging, “I don’t really think I’m going, actually.”

“Oh?” you gasp, pouting at the boy. “Why not?”

“I don’t really have anyone to go with,” he says. What he really means is– you’re going with someone else. Sunwoo doesn’t really see himself dancing with anyone else but you– that’s just that kind of bond you two have in his mind. Your friendship is dear to Sunwoo, and the boy can’t think of anyone else he’d like to spend the evening with.

When his sister argued with him with logical words, telling him that he treasures his friendship with Eric just the same, but wouldn’t invite him to the prom, he just scoffed at her. MB!Y/N doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t treasure Eric in the same way, no matter the fact that they pretty much grew up together. Some things just don’t feel the same way with Eric as they do with you. He feels closer to you, in a way.

“Well, that’s bullshit,” you scoff, shaking your head at your friend, “you’re handsome. And you play football, which is every girl’s dream. I bet anyone would go with you if you just asked,” you propose, pointing a finger at the boy, not really noticing the way he blinks at hearing the words ‘you’re handsome’ coming out of your mouth in regards to him.

Do you find him handsome? Is that your subjective opinion or are you just objectively saying what you’ve heard in the cheerleader changing rooms?

He’d like to know. Just out of curiosity.

Sunwoo scratches the back of his neck in nerves, now fully seated and facing you. It’s hard to meet your eye when he talks, his words coming out muffled. “I can’t dance anyway, so it would be no fun for everyone involved.”

And watching you dance with his classmate Shotaro would be no fun either. See, it would be easy for Sunwoo to be okay with the fact that you were going to the prom with someone older (which is practically impossible, since you’re both seniors, just for the record…). He would understand your point, then. It’s easy to be okay with defeat when your opponent has the upper hand, but when you put two men against each other that are hierarchically equal to each other, much like Sunwoo and Shotaro, the poor boy finds it hard to not feel as insecure in his position.

But with Shotaro being the same age as him and the same amount of popular as him, Sunwoo can’t help but compare himself to his classmate. What does Shotaro have that Sunwoo doesn’t? Is it his smile? Should Sunwoo smile more…?

It doesn’t really help his case that you’re going to the prom with the head of the dance team. Sunwoo can’t dance… Is it the fact that he can’t dance?

Or are you just going to the prom with Shotaro because he was the one to ask you to go? Sunwoo can’t help but wonder– would you have gone with him, had he the balls and asked you first?

“What do you mean, you can’t dance?” you say, eyeing the male.

“Just… never learned to, I guess,” Sunwoo shrugs, “but it doesn’t really matter, since I’m not going, so…”

“But you have to go,” you pout, putting the boy in a difficult position. He doesn’t know if you’re aware of the fact, but your pleading look does wonders to his decision making. He’d commit arson if you asked him to with those glimmers in your eyes. He’d kill for you. Or die for you. Both, depending on the situation. He’d do anything.

“Why?”

“It won’t be fun if you’re not there,” you say, sighing. Your face looks so genuine Sunwoo almost believes it. It makes his heart squeeze and contemplate his decision. “I know Donghyuck is gonna spike the punch, and there are gonna be fireworks,” you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek, “and this is our senior prom, Sunwoo… you have to come.”

The words resonate in his brain, making him even more hesitant about his decision. This is your senior prom– the last dance of your high school years. The last opportunity for Sunwoo to enjoy this time with you and his friends, the last chance he gets at seeing you in a pretty gown, all dolled up and smiling from the sneaky sips of alcohol you’ll get with everyone outside of the school gym. The last opportunity for Sunwoo to dance with you, his best friend, and possibly the last time he’ll ever enjoy his evening with the rest of his football team before all of them have to study in order for them to take their CSAT.

Maybe you’re right. Maybe he should go.

“I’ll think about it, I guess…” he mumbles, watching as your face morphs.

“You guess?” you scoff, glaring at him. “You’ll go or I’ll personally come to your house and drag you there by your hair, you get me, Kim Sunwoo?” you threaten him, having the boy laugh at your outburst. You’re really adorable when you tease him, Sunwoo thinks.

“Got it, chief,” he says, offering you a playful look as he salutes and lays back down onto the carpet, eyes pressed to the ceiling. “Don’t expect me to dance, though, because I refuse to embarrass myself. I have quite the reputation to uphold, you see.”

Sunwoo hears you chuckle, the noise of his sheets tousling landing into his ears. Before he has a chance to look at you and see what you’re doing, his view of the white wall above is shielded with the sight of your face, hair framing your cheeks as you stare down at him and put out your hands, waiting for him to take them and get up to a seated position.

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“I’m gonna teach you, come on,” you call him with a motion of your hand, arms still outstretched and waiting.

“Huh?” he squints, watching as you roll your eyes in frustration.

“I’ll teach you how to dance, Sunwoo,” you snicker, watching as the boy slowly takes your hands and lets you drag him up from where he’s laying on his electric blue rug, “so you don’t embarrass yourself.”

That has Sunwoo stuttering, his figure freezing even when you manage to somehow make him stand up in the middle of his room. A million different exclamation marks appear all over his brain, warning him from the upcoming events, but he has no way of denying your proposition now, no matter how hard he tries. “No- it’s- you don’t have to, I’ll just-”

“Okay, so,” you say, dismissing all his previous attempts at stopping you from your quest, “first, you put your hand here,” you order.

The skin of your fingertips touches Sunwoo’s hand, making the boy’s heart stummer in his chest. You drag his palm towards your waist, placing it on the curve of your body. He swears he feels electricity flowing through the contact, warmth radiating off your skin even though it’s shielded by the fabric of your favorite shirt. He gulps as you put your hand on his shoulder, his eyes carefully following your movements, examining every slightest shift of your composure.

“And then you hold my hand with your other hand,” you instruct, but move to do it yourself when the boy doesn’t seem to have it in him to reach for your palm himself.

Your fingers interlock with his, making the boy chew on his bottom lip in a sudden flash of nerves. You’re standing so close he can smell your perfume, the scent making his head spin and feel lightheaded. If you made him turn in this moment, he’s sure he’d fall over, weak legs barely holding him up in your close proximity.

“Sunwoo?” you ask, making the boy gulp before he hums in acknowledgement.

“You have to look into my eyes when you slow dance,” you laugh, the sound soft and airy, but enough to have his stomach feel all weird, like he’s about to throw up. Still, he forces himself to look into your eyes, instantly feeling like you’re hypnotizing him. (He’s convinced he’d jump out of his window right in this moment if you asked him to.)

“Okay,” he nods, standing still, maintaining eye contact. His body is stiff, muscles tense as you just stand there for a moment. Sunwoo battles his inner fight and doesn’t look at any other features of your face– he has a weird obsession with staring at your lips whenever you talk to him lately. He feels like a weirdo every time he catches himself doing it, so he tries to get rid of the bad habit as much as he can.

“Now, you just… kind of sway to the beat,” you say. The boy nods, but his body stays unmoving.

“There’s… there’s no music playing,” he gets out, watching as you chuckle, your lips stretching out into an adorable grin.

“Right,” you nod, sighing, “well, I’ll just… let me just…” you mumble before you start humming a tune– one that makes Sunwoo laugh from how ridiculous it sounds, the notes so unfamiliar to him he’s sure you’re making it up as you go. Before he knows it, you start moving, making him mirror your actions.

It’s not as difficult as he thought it was, he thinks. You stare at him, all encouraging, as you sway from one foot to the other, nodding at him when you see that he’s following your lead well. Dancing with you suddenly feels like the easiest thing in the world, it feels like he was born to have you in his arms, in the middle of his room as you hum an unfamiliar song to him. He thinks going to the dance won’t be so bad– not if he gets to dance with you there for at least one more time.

“Doing well,” you smile, making the boy feel all warm on the inside. A feeling of victory flashes over him for a mere second. He beams in your considerate words, feels fuzzy under your warm gaze. He feels like he just won the lottery. It’s kind of silly, if he really thinks about it.

A boyish grin appears on his face, having Sunwoo shaking his head at how both ridiculous and over the moon he feels right now. The stream of hums coming out of your throat cuts off for a second as you talk to him with an instructing tone, a warm gaze pressed into his features. “So you can either do this, or you can…” the hand that was holding his suddenly untangles itself from between his fingertips (and Sunwoo’s momentarily glad, because his palm was getting quite sweaty– although he admits that it does feel empty now that you’re not holding it), before you place his other hand on your waist as well.

Something about the pose makes Sunwoo feel strangely intimate, a little bit bashful under your gaze. It only intensifies when your hands go up and entangle behind his neck, bringing you two even closer than before. The proximity has him blushing, red cheeks bringing heat to his face. He prays you don’t mention it– he really doesn’t know if he would be able to talk himself out of this one.

“Or you can do it like this,” you say before you lead the boy again, bodies swaying to an imaginary rhythm. You’re not even humming this time, having Sunwoo follow your movements in complete silence, his aimless movements mirroring your own. He’s surprised he hasn’t stepped on your foot yet when you decide to quickly teach him how to waltz (while also mumbling something about this dance being performed with the previous hand placement). He follows your orders– step forward, close, then another step backwards– and before he knows it, you’re leading him into a gentle turn, rising and falling in a ¾ count.

He’s getting lost in your voice– the softest “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3,” helping him to stay in rhythm– before he’s pulled out of his trance as he feels your fingers playing with the hair on his nape, entangling yourself into his black locks. The motion has him look back up to your eyes (that have been previously glued to your feet, making sure he’s not stepping on your socked limbs), surprised when he sees you staring at him with a sweet smile playing with your lips.

Halting your movements for a bit, you let out a giggle and take him by surprise when your hand reaches up towards his bangs, ruffling his hair as he still holds you around your waist, the two of you almost hugging in his room. “See? Not that hard. You’re a born natural.”

His heart feels like it skipped a beat, a weird sense of panic enclosing around his chest. He doesn’t know what it is, not really knowing how to name the feeling, but it has him nervously smiling and urging him to escape you– escape your touch, escape your scent, your voice and the way you smile at him like you may feel the slightest ounce of the things he does for you, but refuses to accept on most days.

Rushed movements make him break apart from your grasp, quick breathing making him feel like he might spiral.

“Hey! We weren’t done yet!” you call after him when he runs towards the door of his room.

Not looking around, the boy gulps and nervously calls back to you, facing the door. “I’ll be back! I just have to pee!”

The door to his bathroom closes behind him with a loud shut. The boy doesn’t aim for the toilet– instead, he walks over to the sink, turning on the tap and splashing his face with ice cold water. When he’s done, feeling a bit less heated up, he looks up and stares at his face in the mirror. He gives himself some time to collect his thoughts, to hopefully let go of his foolishness.

How many more times will he have to remind himself that he only sees you as a friend?

to. my first date

January 2000

The snow crunches under his sneakers and makes Sunwoo slip on the cold surface– no wonder his mother screamed at him for not wearing his winter shoes before he went out with his friends. He bets it would be way less difficult to walk in the whiteness of the ground if he had more grip in the soles of his shoes, but oh well– he’s not really good at making clever decisions half the time. Nobody can really be surprised.

Somewhere along the way between the moment he’s interrogated his sister about the reason for her bad mood and the moment where he purposefully let her with his best friend at the top of the hill with no way out (he had a hunch the two of them had some things to talk about, from both of their uneasy demeanours for the last day), he realizes he lost both his sister and his best friend, and while he’s quite certain Eric can find his way home just fine, Sunwoo shivers at the thought of not bringing his sister home to his mother. He’s not quite sure he’d survive that.

The quest of finding you both begins the moment the friend group reaches the top of the hill. Given his sister’s impulsiveness, she could’ve ran away from home, and that’s not what he wants to deal with on such a pretty winter day.

Sunwoo finds his plan being successful the moment he reaches the hot chocolate stand. The victory he feels after finding his younger sister alive and healthy is quickly overshadowed with the sight of his best friend’s face close to hers, very clearly going in for a kiss. He thinks he has to do something before he is permanently scarred with the image of them two making out right in front of his eyes as he gathers some of the icy texture into his hands and makes a ball, aiming straight at the head of his best friend.

The snow hits the both of them, right in the middle where their faces are supposed to meet. It’s not quite where Sunwoo was aiming, but he figures it’s good enough– it stopped his sister and his friend in the act, and that’s all he really cares about at this moment.

“Eric Sohn, what the fuck do you think you’re doing with my sister?” Sunwoo hollers, watching as his childhood friend takes off and leaves his sister alone on the bench to watch the conflict. The rest of the group follows with laughter as Sunwoo gathers more snow, tailing Eric and making sure the boy is punished for whatever he’s been doing.

It’s not like he disapproves. Not at all, actually. He just thinks it’s fun to mess with him a little.

“I didn’t mean to! Hey!” Eric cries out over his shoulder, trying his best to escape the frostbite. Karma is not on his side as he trips over something and falls to the ground, efficiently helping Sunwoo and the rest of their circle to corner the poor youngest, snow hailed on his limp figure.

One would think the group of them were making a snowman with how they’re rolling the poor boy around in the snow. Juyeon and Donghyuck make sure there’s not a hint of skin unhidden by the ice, making Eric mourn and kick around– he’s left helpless, though, outpowered and outnumbered by his peers. If anyone unknowing was watching the scene, Sunwoo is sure he’d be framed for bullying.

He thinks it’s quite deserved. Why? He’s not really sure why. He just has a hunch.

“Okay! Enough!” Eric mumbles, shaking his head when Donghyuck tries to fit snow into his mouth. “I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!” he says, eyes opening wide as MB!Y/N appears somewhere behind her older brother, a teasing pout settled on her face.

“It won’t?”

“MB!Y/N– I– Just help me..?” the boy pleads, making the rest of the group laugh and finally relax, easing the attack. Juyeon hums something about young love, making the rest of the guys roll their eyes on his unusual cheesiness, before Donghyuck taps his teammate’s shoulder, making sure he’s paying attention to him.

Sunwoo raises his eyebrows at him, waiting for what he has to say. “Look, isn’t that Y/N?”

There are a few ways to catch Sunwoo’s attention. First– you have to mention football. He could spend hours on the topic of who’s the best player– Ko Jongsoo or Ahn Junghwan? If anyone asked him to write an essay on it, he’s quite certain he’d do a great job explaining their techniques and goal statistics for numerous pages. Second– you have to mention food. He’s a big fan of junk food, but ever since his friend Juyeon introduced him to their family bakery, he’s been a big cinnamon roll enthusiast. And third– you have to mention Y/N.

Just the mention of your name is enough for the boy to stand alert, suddenly all too knowing of his surroundings. He turns his head to look for you, catching sight of your figure dressed in your long coat, standing all alone at the bottom of the hill. There’s an almost bored-looking expression on your face, although Sunwoo thinks there’s a bit of disappointment behind your eyes, making a cloud shade your them and make them lose their usual glimmer. That alone has the boy frowning, and before Donghyuck can say anything more or try to gossip about your sudden arrival, Sunwoo takes off– trying his hardest not to slip on the snow in his sneakers as he runs down the hill and tries his hardest to get to you quickly.

“Y/N!” he calls for you, getting your attention. You turn to him with expecting eyes, watching as the boy runs towards you and does, indeed, slip on the snow.

He manages to save it. Doesn’t mean you didn’t see him falter, though. “Careful there,” you grin, making the boy mentally kick himself in the shin at being uncool in front of you.

Sunwoo glosses over the comment, ignoring the previous two seconds of his life. If he acts like he’s not embarrassed, it might as well come true. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you’re hanging out with someone else when I invited you on the phone today,” he says, curious to know why you changed your plans so suddenly.

There’s a hint of bitterness in your composure when you shrug, averting your gaze. “That fell through, and I didn’t wanna… I figured you’d be here, so I came…” you trail off, your half-assed explanation enough to bring the boy into an inner conflict– one part of him feels bad for you, his heart clenching when he takes notice of your stern gaze and the disappointed expression on your face, the other one foolishly happy that he got to see you today, that you went here looking for him.

“Oh,” he nods, not really sure if he should pray more information out of you. He tried to ask you about it when he called you this morning, twirling the landline on his finger nervously when he asked you if you wanted to go sledding with him and his friends. He even mentioned his sister tagging along to make sure you didn’t feel as awkward going– you wouldn’t be the only girl there! You’d get along with her well, he said, not really sure if he was lying or not. Either way, his sister does need her own friends… “Well–” he starts, not really sure where his own sentence is going, before you cut him off with a rushed out sentence, spoken so quickly Sunwoo barely registers it in that confused brain of his.

“Would you wanna go on a date with me?” you ask, eyes big as you stare into his.

The question takes a few seconds to register in Sunwoo’s brain. He can physically feel the auditory waves entering his ears and converting themselves into electrical signals by the auditory system. The signals enter his left hemisphere– maybe he could point towards the area with his finger if you asked him to, the impact of the question so present in his mind– and then it decodes in the Wernicke’s area, slowly, but surely making more and more sense to him. The boy gulps at the invitation. He understands the question theoretically now, he’s registered it in his brain, but the practical implication of your preposition is still unclear– why in the hell would you ask him to go on a date with you?

“I…” he stutters, feeling heat rushing to his cheeks. He feels like a fool– he should’ve said yes a few seconds ago, when you first asked the question– but something inside of him is telling him that maybe his reaction is valid. No one expects their friend to randomly ask them out on the bottom of a snowy hill. Certainly not when he was 99% sure you liked someone else.

“Look, it’s- it’s good if you don’t want to, really, I just… I was supposed to go on a date with Shotaro today, but he never arrived, and I…” you nervously scratch your neck, once again averting your gaze from him, “I guess I was hoping you were in the mood to go out with me, since I got all ready and stuff…” you mumble, your tone of voice breaking something inside of him.

Oh. So you weren’t really asking him out. You just didn’t want to feel like a fool that got stood up. How stupid of Sunwoo to think you wanted to go on a date with him. The two of you were just friends, after all. Best friends.

And best friends are for cheering each other up. So despite feeling absolutely defeated, Sunwoo battles the weird feeling in his chest and puts on his best smile. “Of course! Don’t even mention it. Where… where did you wanna go?” he asks, watching as your face relaxes, shoulders falling back to their natural position.

“Are you in the mood for some ramen?” you ask, eyebrows rising in question.

“I’m always in the mood for some ramen,” he nods. He’s always in the mood for whatever you are.

“Great,” you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Great.”

“So… let’s go,” you say, nodding to yourself as you walk away from the hill, having your best friend tailing you, following you towards the ramen place in the center of the town.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence hanging over you as the two of you escape the sledding area. Sunwoo doesn’t even pay his goodbyes to his friends and his sister, but he trusts that Eric can get her home safely when the time comes to head back. The boy mentally curses out Shotaro for standing you up– how does he dare to ask you out and never arrive? He doesn’t care about the possible circumstances of his classmate’s absence. All he cares about is the saddened look on your face and the unusual quietness enveloping your aura.

“Should I go kick his ass?” he asks, trying his hardest to make you feel better.

“It’s okay, Sunwoo,” you shake your head in disapproval, eyes pressed to the ground.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, not satisfied with your answer. “I’m quite good at fighting, contrary to popular belief, but if things go wrong, I know my friends would have my back,” he says, playfully punching the air.

The little play consisting of him kicking and punching an imaginary figure goes on for a while until he’s satisfied– meaning: until you’re left laughing at his overly exaggerated movements and grunts, shaking your head in disbelief at his boyish antics. Taking his hand in yours to make him stop with the play-fighting, you drag your now interlocked fingers towards your coat pocket, hiding his cold hand in the thick fabric.

Sunwoo’s heart beats fast at that, making him believe it’s going to run out of his chest any minute now– or make him go into cardiac arrest, either or– as he grows speechless, looking at you with big, surprised eyes. You don’t seem to put much meaning to your gesture, going as far as gently caressing your thumb over the back of his palm, his frozen skin growing hot at the contact.

He’s never held hands with you before– if he doesn’t count the amount of times you dragged him around when the both of you were late for the shared cheerleading and football practice on Tuesday afternoons– and so the intimacy of the act makes him feel strangely weak in his knees. It’s hard for him to take his eyes off you, almost looking like a deer in the headlights to anyone watching you two right now. Sniffling from the cold, you shrug.

“It’s okay,” you smile, sending him a quick glance, “I didn’t really like him like that anyway. It just… feels a bit disappointing to get stood up, that’s all,” you nod.

Sunwoo nods at that too, something in him shifting. You don’t like Shotaro like that? When was this piece of information when he really needed it? (For like the last month, every time he couldn’t fall asleep because the thought of you marrying his classmate at one point in the future haunted him too much and made him want to poke the dance club leader’s eyes out?)

“I get it,” he says, walking along with you. Every time he feels the eyes of someone on you two, he feels his chest filling up with an unfamiliar sense of pride. Something about being seen with you as you’re all dolled up and holding his hand in your coat pocket makes him all giddy on the inside– no matter if this is a real date or not.

Because screw it, Kim Sunwoo is tired of reminding himself that he’s supposed to only see you as a friend. Because he doesn’t.

“I’ve never been on a date before, though, so you have to teach me all about that too,” he hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek.

That has a giggle escaping your throat, another shake of your head in disbelief at his words. He doesn’t know what’s so funny, but he decides that as long as you’re laughing, he’s fine with feeling the tiniest bit of humiliation. He’d do anything to make you happy, he thinks. It’s a feeling stronger than him and he doesn’t know how to make it go away– he decided to stop battling it a long time ago.

“Just be yourself, Sunwoo,” you say, “that’s already perfect enough.”

Perfect. Sunwoo’s cheeks grow hot at that. He’s happy that it’s cold out– maybe he could blame his blushing on the weather. The boy isn’t so sure you know about the effect your words have on him. He’s always thought of you as perfect– flawless, funny, friendly, smart, kind and… and beautiful– but the adjective doesn’t quite seem fitting when he looks at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t believe you could hold him to such standards. He’s nothing special. God, he knows he’s not good enough for you– still, he keeps wishing he could be.

“You look really pretty, by the way,” he hears himself say, the words escaping his mouth before he has the chance to stop them. The tone of his voice is quite unnatural in his ears, softer than it usually is, and somehow, the comment makes you roll your eyes, which he finds to be an unnatural reaction.

“You don’t have to say that just because you’re on a date with me,” you hum, eyes not meeting his. (Which might be a good thing. Sunwoo would like to keep his feelings hidden for a bit longer, and he’s not so sure you wouldn’t recognise the tender inkling he has towards you in his longing gaze.)

“I’m not saying it because of that,” he mutters, voice quiet, yet honest.

Watching the side of your face, eyes still glued at every feature of your profile, he knows he’s not lying. He finds you oh so pretty even in the faint hue of the winter sun, with your scarf pulled up to the middle of your chin and hair pinned up with a pretty, silky bow. He finds you nothing short of angelic. Perfect. It’s kind of silly, if he really thinks about it.

Still, he can’t help himself. To this day, he counts the afternoon he spent with you, eating ramen at your favorite place, to be the first date he’s ever gone on.

Somewhere in the corner of his soul, he begs you count it as real too.

August 2007

It’s only a couple of days later when you find yourself in front of Juyeon’s father’s bakery, nervously chewing on your bottom lip and gazing at the glass door. The sun is shining strongly down on your skin, making you feel like you’re going to get a sun stroke if you keep standing in the direct light for any longer, and with the pressure of both the weather and your own thoughts, you decide to stop wasting time and push the door open, entering the establishment.

Not really sure if you’re welcome– who knows, Sunwoo might have just been acting nice and civil for the sake of not ruining his sister’s wedding– you prepared a mental shopping list of things you wanted to get at the bakery. You hadn’t seen your parents in a long time, so you thought a few donuts might make them happy. If Sunwoo just treats you like any regular customer when you walk in, you’ll take it as your sign to act like one and let this whole thing go.

Truth be told, you don’t even know why you’re so nervous. It’s not like you’re promising yourself something more from this… right?

It’s not like you suddenly felt younger again when seeing him at the wedding. It’s not like the memories choked you up when you went to sleep that night, it’s not like the feelings you had for the young boy suddenly waved at you in greeting, reminding you of just how close the two of you were all those years ago.

Not at all. Why would anyone even think that?

The ring above the door makes a sound as you walk in, your insides clenching in a weird mix of nerves and anxiety at encountering Kim Sunwoo again. The store is empty when you reach the counter, but you’re soon greeted by the sound of the staff door opening, a tall figure stumbling in with a tray of pastries, yelling out a quick: “I’ll be right there!”

And as you watch Sunwoo with his bangs sticking to his forehead, an apron tied tightly around his thin waist, you feel like he hasn’t aged a single day and you two are still the same teenagers that ran around your school in order to not miss practice. The boy looks up at you from below his eyelashes, a boyish grin taking over his features as he puts the hot tray down on the counter and throws the kitchen towel he’s been using to shield his skin from the heat to the side, greeting you.

“Y/N! It’s nice seeing you again,” he beams, wiping his hands on his apron, gaze gluing to yours and never leaving, capturing you in a sincere eye contact that you don’t have the heart to break.

“Hi, Sunwoo,” you chuckle, pressing your lips into an honest, yet a little bit awkward smile. “How’s it going?” you ask, desperate to keep the conversation going– afraid that if it dies down, you won’t be able to revive it ever again and you’ll just regret it forever. There’s a weird sense of urgency in you, like you have a time limit to figure everything out– like you have to act now, or everything you ever wanted might slip from between your fingertips– yet, the more you watch Sunwoo in the serene atmosphere of the sweet-smelling bakery, you notice yourself relaxing.

“Good! Better now that you’re here, actually, it’s been a slow day,” he muses, nodding to himself. “What about you? Can I get you anything?” he asks, eyebrows raising, round cheeks on full display as he stares at you with an expecting smile.

“I’m doing well,” you nod, humming, “really well… catching up with my parents, settling in and stuff… You know the deal,” you laugh. “I actually came to get some donuts for my parents, sort-of like a thank you gift for letting me stay until I figure out my own place and stuff,” you say, watching as Sunwoo urgently nods with acknowledgement.

“Say less, darling,” the nickname slips out from him a little too easily, a little too casually for the way it captures your heart. It has you nervously shifting from one foot to another, insides warming up with the impact of his fleeting gaze as he moves to get a box from under the counter, moving closer to the glass vitrine filled with the sweet pastry. “Your mum loves these ones,” he points towards the donuts coated with the pink glazing.

It’s kind of weird– how Sunwoo knows exactly what your mother likes, despite him not being around your house every other day like when the two of you were teenagers. It makes you realize that even though you moved away for years, the time here didn’t stop. Everyone moved on with their lives, everyone continued on as if nothing happened. And you can’t hold it against them– you guess you just hate the weird pit in your stomach that opens up with the realization that while Sunwoo knows which pastries your mum likes (most likely because she stops by to buy bread often, taking some treats with her for her and dad while she’s at it), you don’t.

You try hard not to show it on your face, though. Sunwoo continues to pack more donuts into the box, not really attempting to ask you for what you’d like– he just chooses himself, making sure you bring home the best ones of the bunch, the most delicious ones they carry. Letting him do his work, merely watching as he carefully moves the donuts from the vitrine to the box, you hear him continue on with the conversation.

“You came in on the right day,” Sunwoo hums, “Juyeon works tomorrow, so you wouldn’t be able to catch me if you went.”

Ignoring the fact that he sees right through you– sees that your intention was to see him, to have a way to visit him and attempt to rekindle whatever bond you had when you were young– you just chuckle. You can’t blame him for knowing you so well, despite not being around each other for so many years. When you were young and in love, you used to call him your soulmate, after all. You guess there’s always a hint of truth, even in the most lovesick fantasies. “Well, then I’m glad I went in today,” you admit.

Sunwoo smiles at that– the kind of smile you always loved at him, the one where he shows his teeth and his eyes crinkle up into moon crescents. Once he’s done packing your donuts, he puts the box on the counter, showing you his back just as fast when he turns around, seemingly grabbing something else as well. When he’s facing you again, there’s a sweet pastry in his hand, still warm.

“What’s that?” you ask when you notice him offering it to you, eyes peering into his.

“A cinnamon roll,” he says, waiting for you to take it into your hands, “I told you everyone goes crazy over my cinnamon rolls, so I wanna see if their magic works on you too.”

“Is this how you flirt with girls over here?” you chuckle, but take the bun into your hand nonetheless, taking a hesitant bite of the treat. The sweetness melts on your tongue, the warmth of the freshly-baked pastry enchanting you with its taste, something about its essence weirdly reminding you of home.

“Haven’t tried it before,” he shrugs, “so tell me if it’s working,” he jokes, watching as you chew on the roll.

“Well, is it any good?”

Humming in satisfaction, delight on the tip of your tongue as you swallow down the heavenly dough, you nod. “It’s to die for, Sunwoo.”

“Told you,” he shoots you a cheesy finger-gun, reminding you so much of your best friend from high school, before he turns and takes a paper bag from somewhere, talking to you as his back faces you again, “I’ll get you some more to take home with you. I bet they didn’t have those in the Big Apple.”

“If I knew I was missing out on these, I would have come back quicker,” you joke, watching as Sunwoo turns to you with an amused look on his face, seemingly enjoying the praise.

The eye contact unarms you again, your composure falling just the slightest. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you clear your throat and reach for your wallet, ready to pay and leave so you can think about the interaction on your way home (and overthink every slightest detail, just like teenage you would after every fleeting touch young Sunwoo would send your way). “How much do I owe you?” you ask.

“Oh, it’s on the house,” he says, licking his lips, “consider it a… welcome gift, if you will,” he hums, offering you the box full of donuts and the paper bag consisting his infamous cinnamon rolls, your skin touching just the slightest when you take them from him, but still making electricity jolt through the nerve endings of your fingertips.

“No, Sunwoo, I really can’t-” you shake your head, but get caught off by him.

“Take them, please. You can pay me back some… other time?” he cautiously says, seemingly not really knowing if he’s still within your desired boundaries.

“O-okay, then,” you nod, agreeing to the subtle invitation– the subtle promise to meet again, the hopeful question leading into something more. “Thank you, Sunwoo,” you hum, smiling as you turn towards the door and get prepared to walk out, giving both of you some time to think about what happened in the last few minutes.

As you open your mouth to say goodbye to him, hand landing on the doorknob, you hear him call after you once more.

“Oh and Y/N?” he says, a confident look suddenly overtaking his features. “I end here at 5, if you’d like to hang out after.”

Unknowingly, a grin appears on your features, the one that’s so strong you can’t really mask it no matter how hard you try– as you nod at him, the victorious feeling flowing through your veins maybe even a bit dangerous. Still, you don’t have it in you to turn the invitation down– you wouldn’t be able to even in your wildest dreams.

This is what you came here for, after all, isn’t it?

“Okay,” you agree. “So… I’ll see you later?”

“See you later,” he nods, teeth capturing his bottom lip. It’s kind of adorable. He couldn’t battle the smile threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth, no matter how hard he tried.

Maybe coming here– coming back home– was the best thing you could’ve done.

“Wanna come in?” Sunwoo asks. It’s a few hours later– you followed through with his invitation and waited for him in front of the bakery at 5:05 sharp, catching him after his shift. You two took a walk through the whole town, waltzing slowly through his neighborhood until you reached his childhood house. You remember far too many afternoons spent in the comfort of the walls, and although you think it would be nice to revisit those memories, you notice his mother’s car (is it still hers? You have no way of knowing.) in the driveway, and suddenly, you’re too shy to join him as he drops his stuff off in his house.

It’s like you’re a teenager again– except, you never had any problems meeting his mother before. She was a nice woman, although a little busy (you only heard Sunwoo complain about the fact a few times– mainly when he was feeling sentimental or particularly under the weather about something), and she always treated you very nicely. Almost like you were supposed to join the family one day. His sister once asked you if you’re gonna marry him, and you laughed at her back then– you were so young, you didn’t even think of having a wedding with Kim Sunwoo. The funniest thing was the timing: you weren’t even dating him at the time. Or planning to, really. Sure, you always imagined somehow spending the rest of your life with him, in one way or another, but the thought of marriage didn’t often cross your mind. Life is ironic, you think– MB!Y/N was the first one to have a wedding and here you are, retangling your life paths with her brother again.

So no, you were never really scared or shy in front of his mother. Back then, things were different though. Simpler? You’d say they were definitely easier. You were more extroverted and open, more ambitious and less embarrassed of how your life turned out to be.

Also, you didn’t want to give her any ideas. It’s far too soon for that, you think.

“No,” you shake your head, hesitating a little bit, “I’ll wait for you here,” you say, watching as he smiles at you and nods, walking inside of the house to drop off his things and change.

You two didn’t really have any plans for the rest of the evening. You told Sunwoo he could show you around town, tell you what changed and what stayed exactly the same, since he came home earlier than you– you bet it could be two or three years ago. He eagerly nodded, although noted that not much is different in your hometown and your walk could turn out pretty uneventful. No plans were set in stone, though.

Nervously shuffling from one foot to another, you decide to walk around the yard. Sunwoo’s house was always big– although it seemed more giant to you when you were a teenager. It’s a strange observation, since you didn’t really grow any more inches since you hit puberty. Your eyes study the flowers in front of the gate, the mowed grass, the big tree in the backyard. If you focus hard enough, you could almost see the two of you laying under it, letting the leaves shield you from the sun, both much younger and carefree than now. Sunwoo would show you pages of his favorite comic books and you’d play on your Tamagochi, making sure it doesn’t die in two days like his did when he first got it. When you turn to your right, you see the garden house you two– sometimes with his sister, sometimes with Eric, sometimes with both of them at once– spent many afternoons in.

There used to be an old, red sofa inside. There wasn’t much space, since it was filled with gardening supplies, Sunwoo’s and MB!Y/N’s old bikes, flower pots, packs of soil and all other things you could need for gardening, but it was fun to hide away from the sun in there and drink iced tea, talking about whatever came to your minds or solving nanogram puzzles in comfortable silence (or occasional sigh from Eric when he got stuck somewhere in the middle of his crosswords).

Your curiosity gets the best of you when you open the door, deciding to see if it’s still the same inside. Your eyes widen when you notice the garden house a little less packed than before– mainly because Sunwoo’s mother no longer does gardening in her free time and buys her vegetables on the market like your mum does, you presume– but instead, it’s full of all the things the childhood you knew so well.

Sunwoo’s old bike– red and a little rusty, but you bet it could still work. The rug they used to have in their dining room is now in the middle of the little garden house, stained with dirt. Next to the usual red sofa is a leather armchair that they used to have in their living room for a while, the dark brown fabric now worn out, chapped and peeling off. In the corner of the room, you find a box filled with various sports equipment– tennis rackets, a yellow tennis ball, a jumping rope, and lastly, a half-deflated football. The sight of it has you sighing a little, reminding you of Sunwoo’s composure when he told you about how he never got to pursue his childhood dream fully.

Your eyes glaze towards his old skateboard, having you chuckle, the memories of him riding it down the hill in front of his house appearing in your mind. Sometimes, he would be there with his sister and his childhood friend Eric as well (that more often than not let MB!Y/N borrow the board, watching her with lovesick eyes instead of riding it himself), the young boy trying to teach himself tricks he saw on the TV.

“Do you think I still got it?” you suddenly hear Sunwoo ask from behind your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. The male laughs at your shocked face, shaking his head in disbelief at your easily shaken composure.

“You scared me,” you breathe out, clutching your chest for good measure, to show him how much you really mean it– your heart was racing, and contrary to popular belief, the sight of him in casual attire (a gray hoodie, so similar to the one he used to wear in high school, baggy Adidas sweatpants covering his legs) wasn’t the reason for the little heart attack.

“So did you!” he exclaims. “I got outside and didn’t see you there, I thought you ran away for a second,” he hums.

“As if,” you mumble, “I walked all the way here, why would I leave so suddenly?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs, “you could’ve changed your mind, or something,” he says, his composure suddenly as boyish as when he was just a teenager, something in your heart softening. You guess he sometimes still carries some of the same insecurities he tried so hard to mask when he was young. Some things don’t really change, but you really wish at least this would’ve.

Smiling at him, you shake your head. “I don’t think you still got it, though,” you go back to reply to his initial question, pointing towards the skateboard.

“Well, who knows,” he peeps, “maybe I could do an Ollie, or something.”

“I really don’t think you could, Sunwoo,” you laugh softly, watching him regain his statement competitiveness.

“Wanna bet?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I don’t want you to break your bones, so let’s just say I believe you,” you giggle, watching as the boy mirrors your expression, his gaze softening.

A short moment of silence overtakes you two as you sigh and look around the garden house, instinctively taking a seat on the red sofa covered in dust. You bet it’s been years since anyone’s sat on it, and you’re glad to be the one revisiting its comfort. It’s like solidifying your return– like the old piece of forgotten furniture in Sunwoo’s garden house is the spawn point of your childhood. “Doesn’t this make you nostalgic?” you ask, eyeing your companion.

“Well, I live here,” he shrugs, “so not as much as it makes you, I suppose. Having you here again makes it more nostalgic, though, I’ll give you that.”

His words have you overcome with something bittersweet. Seeing the town you love so much makes you almost regret you ever left. The rational side of your brain reminds you that you gained a lot of experience abroad, though, and so you settle with being just a little bit remorseful of your past self for being so overly-ambitious.

“It’s weird,” you allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of him, the essence of him being your best friend– your first love, the first person you ever felt safe with– overtaking you in the moment of weakness, “it’s like everybody moved on, but I stayed here.”

“Well, not everybody moved on,” Sunwoo hums, referring to himself. “Juyeon stayed, too. Eric and MB!Y/N are moving only a few hours away… Haknyeon lives down the street now,” he points out, a poor attempt at making you feel better.

“Yeah… it’s just… I hoped I would do big things. I hoped we would both do big things,” you say, tone of voice quiet, your eyes avoiding him. It’s hard to keep eye contact with him when you share your struggles– at least that’s the way it always was when you were young. The look he offered you always made you feel so tender, so cared for that you wanted to burst out crying. In your age and state, you can’t afford to tear up in front of your ex-boyfriend anymore.

“Sometimes, things don’t work out the way we want them to,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice considerate. “And that’s fine. I wanted to be a star, and I’m not, but that’s okay, because hey… I’m happy anyway. I’m content. And I know that one day, you’ll be too. It just takes a bit of time.”

Snickering, you play with your fingers in your lap, legs plopping up and crossed, striking an almost defensive pose. “Were you… were you embarrassed when you came back?” you ask.

Sunwoo laughs, the sound so heartfelt it makes your insides squeeze. “Terribly. I mean, look at me in my mid-twenties, still living with my mother. Even back then, I felt like a failure. I felt like a disappointment, but… then I realized not everyone had the opportunities I had. Not everyone almost made it professional, you know, and that’s still something to be proud of.”

“I’m still living with my mother, but hey– she’s getting older and the house is big. MB!Y/N moved out, and I wouldn’t want my mum to get lonely… so I think I’m doing pretty well, given the circumstances,” he says. Pausing for a heartbeat, as if collecting his thoughts, he continues. “I think you should find the positives in your situation too. Not everyone got to live in New York... Work for the national TV… That’s still a huge achievement, and I think you should be proud of yourself for that.”

Rolling your eyes– although grateful to hear the words– you snicker. “It’s hard to do that right now…”

“I know,” he nods, smiling when you finally look at him. “It takes time. And until then, well, for what it’s worth, I’m really proud of you. And maybe… maybe you coming back home is how life’s supposed to go anyways.”

Biting down on your lower lip to stop yourself from tearing up– see, you knew you shouldn’t have looked the boy in the eyes during his little pep talk– there’s suddenly a weight leaving your shoulders, heart softening and growing more tender. Your wounds seem to sting a little less. It’s strange– even after so many years, he still knows just the words you need to hear.

“Yeah,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper, a soft smile playing with your lips, “maybe.”

to. my first kiss

March 2000

His eyes stay glued to the TV in your living room, the boy almost looking hypnotized as he focuses on the program running, furrowed brows and all, showing his utmost concentration. A sigh lands into his ears, but goes unnoticed when you enter the room, a scowl sitting on your face. “Sunwoo! I told you to watch the oven! What if the cookies burn?”

“Yeah…” he mumbles, not a single word coming out of your mouth truly registering in his brain.

“Sunwoo!” you grunt, but when you get no reply, you just choose to roll your eyes and walk into your kitchen yourself, opening the oven and making sure the cookies you two have been baking haven’t burned down into coal yet. Not long after, you plop on the sofa next to your best friend, tone of voice still showing a bit of frustration at his carelessness.

“You shit on Eric for watching those, but you’re just as bad,” you hum as you notice the kdrama going on in the TV. It’s one of the ones that hardly make any sense and each scene is overly-exaggerated and repeated at least twice to create impact, but Sunwoo finds himself living for the drama. Each argument has him examining the scene, mentally rooting for his favorite characters– and although he is busy with football practice nowadays, he doesn’t skip a single episode of Happy Together.

It’s not as entertaining as the manga comics he borrows from Hyunjae’s father’s comic shop, but he figures that it’s good enough to pass some time… and indulge over.

“I think they’re gonna kiss,” he notes, pointing towards the screen.

“Oh, good point, Sherlock Holmes,” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief. If there was something you’d expect out of your friend, it seemingly wasn’t his enjoyance of cheesy dramas that air in the afternoon hours of the week.

And Sunwoo admits, he was never the one to enjoy romance. Hell, it was something he always made fun of when it came to his friend Eric– he was not the one to watch romantic comedies, he wasn’t the one to tell girls cheesy lines or bring them flowers on Valentine’s day. He does seem to be enjoying the laughable scenes rolling on the TV a little too much lately, though.

Maybe he should start hanging out with Eric less.

The scene slowly transforms into close-ups of the two main characters, showing them instinctively closing their eyes and leaning towards each other, eyes trained on each other’s lips. It doesn’t take much to predict the next actions, but Sunwoo still finds himself restless in his seat when they finally kiss, legs kicking up and a gasp escaping his mouth. One would think he won the lottery or was just greeted with the greatest surprise ever, with how he’s reacting. None of the two are true, though.

“Oh, wow,” you hum next to him, seemingly not really interested in the drama as much as your best friend is.

“You’re ruining it,” Sunwoo sighs, looking at you as you roll your eyes and settle deeper into the couch cushions.

“Oh, sorry,” you note, but your composure stays a bit annoyed.

Sunwoo watches the TV for some more– the scene of the two characters kissing stays on the screen, slowed-down and repeated, in the true 90s TV show fashion– before his eyes trail off the device and move towards you, glazing your side profile. He takes notice of your casual attire– you changed out of your school uniform in the time he was supposed to watch the cookies baking in the oven, and something in his stomach churns, making him blurt out the random question that so suddenly appears on the tip of his tongue.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he asks, genuinely curious. He doesn’t even know why the response matters to him so much– he also doesn’t really know what reply he’d like to hear better, if he’s being honest– but now it’s out in the open and he can’t take it back.

“Hm?” you hum, snapping your head towards him. “Oh. Yeah, I guess…”

“You guess..?” Sunwoo repeats, furrowing his brows. How can one not be sure?

“Well– yeah. It only happened once, though,” you shrug. It takes everything in Sunwoo to not ask who you kissed and when, or under what circumstances, and decide to despise that person until the day he dies. It’s not his business and he shouldn’t even care in the first place… He can’t say he’s disappointed in your answer– it’s your life and your decisions– but something inside of him screams that now, he can’t be your first no matter how hard he’d try. (It’s not like you’d want to kiss Sunwoo anyway, so he really doesn’t know why he’s making such a big deal about it.)

“What about you?” you ask, the question catching the poor boy off guard. He didn’t necessarily expect you to ask him back– so much to his title of Sherlock Holmes– and the reality that he can’t lie to you takes him out in full force as he bashfully stares out of the window.

“No,” he peeps, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

There’s something embarrassing about admitting to the girl you like that even at the ripe age of 19, you’ve never kissed anyone before. Shame creeps up his neck and adorns his cheeks after the simple word slips out of his mouth, eyes refusing to meet yours.

“Really?” you ask, and you sound genuinely surprised– there’s a hint of Sunwoo’s ego recovering, but he thinks the hit was too hard for him to ever recover.

“Yup,” he says, a popping sound heard as his lips voice out the last consonant, the view of him playing with his own fingers suddenly more interesting than anything else happening in your living room right at this moment.

“I thought– nevermind,” you hum, scratching the back of your neck, “why are you asking?”

“Just… just curious, I guess…?” he stummers, shrugging.

A moment of silence overtakes you two– enough to make the boy instantly hate everything he’s ever said on the matter. If there could open up a hole in the ground right now to swallow him, he’d jump in with much enthusiasm. Why did he have to ask?

“Do you wanna try?” you suddenly propose, making the boy’s heart feel like it burst and threw him into a cardiac arrest. His hands start sweating, his cheeks tint red and it feels like all oxygen was suddenly sucked out of the living room, his lungs collapsing on themselves.

You seem to try to save the situation, noticing the utter shock on his face. “I mean– you don’t have to, but I… I wouldn’t mind, and it’s– I don’t know… if you wanted to practice with me, or something, I’d be down to…” you stutter, chewing on your bottom lip as you finish the little tangent, terror evident in your eyes.

Sunwoo feels like a little boy that just found his favorite gift under the Christmas tree. Like he found the most pricey toy there, the one he always wanted, and now that it’s there, he’s scared to actually play with it, because he doesn’t want to break it. Much like your friendship, he thinks. There’s too much to lose if he crosses this line, and he’s very much aware.

But the offer seems tempting. Almost too tempting. God, he doesn’t think he could say no.

He may not be your first kiss, but you’re asking to be his. This sounds like a dream, if he really thinks about it.

“You know what? Just forget–”

“I’d– I’d like that…” he mumbles, trying really hard not to avert his gaze from you.

Your gaze softens, nodding your head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“Okay,” you nod again, moving a little closer to him. Your knees knock into the side of his thigh, your whole figure now facing him on the sofa as his legs still point forward to the TV. He keeps staring at you, a little nervous, but expectant. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do it just because–”

“I’m sure,” he cuts you off, watching as your face relaxes, a smile appearing on your lips at the next addition. “I want to.”

“Okay.”

You move impossibly closer, your crossed legs in contact with his clothed skin. He curses the thin fabric of the pants of his school uniform for making him feel every slightest flex of your muscles when you move, making his skin flare up and burn. He keeps staring at you, watching you as you lean closer to him, your faces now inches away from each other. Sunwoo finds himself focusing on every feature of your face, counting the eyelashes framing your eyes, glazing over the sparkles in your orbs. You stay close for a minute, unmoving.

Eyes locking, Sunwoo finds himself gasping a little, breathing shuddering when he notices your gaze falling to his lips. Your breathing mixes, air meeting his face when you breathe out a minty breeze. His heart is already racing and you’re not even doing anything.

When he finds you finally moving towards him and notices your eyes shutting close, he mirrors your actions, but stays unmoving. After what feels like eternity, he feels something soft pressing to his lips, warmth spreading from that part of his face to the rest of his body. The contact of your lips with his is gentle, like you’re testing the waters, and although the feeling is unfamiliar, Sunwoo decides he doesn’t hate it.

The weird firework show in his stomach actually suggests that he’s quite enjoying it. Your lips break away from his for a bit, rewarding him with only a peck, and before the boy has the chance to think this is it and it’s over, you dive in for more and kiss him again, this time longer, more firmer.

Your hands come up to cradle his cheeks, holding him close. He feels himself burning up, his composure completely crumbling when he feels you smile against his lips.

“You know you can kiss back, right?”

“Mhm,” he hums, opening his eyes to see you staring at him with a tender look.

“Try it,” you say, hands gently coming up to brush his bangs away from his face. If anyone was looking at the two of you now, Sunwoo thinks they’d conclude that you two were in love.

And maybe Sunwoo was, by the way he was looking up at you like you hung the stars on the sky. By the way he was staring at you with such a vulnerable look he feared you might see right through him, see right to his core and call him out on every unconfessed word hiding in his heart. He looks a little scared, a little tense, still, but his eyes don’t lie. They never do. There’s no one else that could make him feel the way you do.

“Okay,” he nods, moving in his position so he’s facing you, ready for more.

He mirrors your previous motions, leaning towards your face. He wets his lips and closes his eyes when he’s sure he’s close enough to not miss your mouth, and after another deep breath in to calm his nerves, he presses against you. He feels you freezing under him, a momentary panic spreading all over his chest as he thinks he’s done something wrong, before he feels you kissing him back.

A whole other sensation takes over him when he feels your lips moving against his, his fingertips buzzing when he drags his hand up and moves your hair behind your shoulder, large hand resting on your jaw. He’s not sure if he’s doing this correctly– hell, he’s never done this before– but after you move a bit and entangle your hands behind his neck, pressing against him a bit more firmly, yet still tender and gentle like the first time, he recognises that somehow, it feels right, and he thinks that’s all evaluation he needs for now.

The need for oxygen makes him break away from you, breathing heavily as he opens his eyes and finds you resting your forehead against his, smiling. “Like that?” he asks, shamelessly staring at your wet lips, already yearning for more.

“Something like that,” you nod, giggling. “You still need more practice, though,” you suggest, making the boy frown.

“Was it that ba–”

Rolling your eyes at him, frustrated at the way he always needs everything spelled out for him, refusing to take a hint, you press your lips against his again, teeth clashing a little when Sunwoo picks up the pace and kisses you back. The TV is a mere white noise in the background now, everything around you two disappearing, all of Sunwoo’s senses focused on you and only you. He could get lost in the way you taste– like strawberry bubblegum you bought at the store on the corner of the street– and the way you feel against him– soft, tender, warm.

He feels like he could burst. He knows his hands are a bit sweaty, but he’s only half aware of the fact when his palms move to hold your cheeks, much like you did to him before, and your hands entangle in his hair, playing with the strands.

He could stay like this forever, blissfully unaware of the consequences of this act. He could kiss you over and over and over again, even if it meant he was still bad at it and needed more practice– he could get lost in your scent, in the tender way you hold him to you, in the way you keep smiling against his lips whenever he does something to surprise you: like get a little bolder and angle your head by your chin with his thumb, getting more comfortable.

He’s glad he’s sitting down, because he’s quite sure his knees are too weak to carry him right now. When you break away from him again, lips swollen and eyes blown-out, he thinks you might just be an angel. He’d love to engrave this image into his memories forever.

Although, he’s doubtful that he could ever forget about this. Or anything about you, really.

And even as you suddenly gasp, finally aware of the world around you, running to the kitchen and screaming: “Sunwoo! We forgot about the cookies!”,

he wonders just what more you could teach him about life. He’d follow you to the end of the world if you asked him to, holding your hand in his and not thinking twice. He’d bring you down a star, if you only so expressed you would like one. He’d do anything.

You taught him what friendship is. You taught him what it means to care for someone. What it means to have someone special. You taught him how to drink (although by scolding him when he was hungover. He felt cared for even with your stern gaze). You taught him how to slow dance– even though you spent the prom with someone else. Just now, you taught him how to kiss.

And although you’re unaware, he’s quite certain that when he’s 19 years old, spending each of his days with you, although unaware, you taught him how to love someone too.

August 2007

You feel kind of silly, standing in front of the bakery as the sun sets over the horizon, the clock striking near 5 in the afternoon as you gnaw on your fingernails and hesitate a little before coming in. Pushing the door open and slipping inside, the male currently sweeping the floor looks over at you, a look of pleasant surprise sitting at his face and a sunny smile sent your way upon your arrival.

You don’t really know why you keep running back to him. The whole town reeks of familiarity to you, every corner and inch of each street filled with the essence of your childhood and your whole growing up. It’s not like you don’t have anything else to ground yourself back to, but somehow, your inner voice always keeps calling for Sunwoo. It’s weird– it’s been ages and you shouldn’t feel like this around someone who you haven’t even properly dated for that long, if you don’t count the few months before he left– but it’s something you can’t control, an essence you can’t hold back.

“Y/N,” he calls for you, “what are you doing here?” he asks as he continues his routinal cleaning, putting the broom away behind the counter.

It’s a stupid question. You bet he realizes it too, but you’re somehow glad he is taking initiative. This way, you don’t have to be the first one to spark the conversation. This way, you know you’re welcome.

“Oh, well,” you shrug, “I’m… looking for you…?” you say, tone of voice suggesting that you’re hesitant, almost a little shy to admit it to yourself.

Maybe you’re foolish for feeling this way. Because you know what all those things mean– you know what the lightness in your stomach is, what the giddy feeling resonating through you whenever the male smiles at you is. You know that thinking about someone constantly, more so before you sleep, isn’t an usual occurrence with someone you pay no attention to, with someone you don’t care about. You’ve been in love before– with the same man that’s standing right in front of you as well, funnily enough. You know what this all means.

But with how he’s inviting you in, letting you into his little bubble, you think it’s not as bad of a thing. He’s not pushing you away. He’s not building bridges. He’s the same way he was all those years ago, and you’d hate to find out that all of this wasn’t something more and was just him being nice.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” he chuckles, wiping his hands on the apron still tied around his waist. “I’m off in a few, though, so if you want anything from the bakery–”

“I’m not here for the food,” you laugh, dismissing him with a wave of your hand. The boldness is unusual for the present you– there’s a hint of your past shining through whenever you are with the boy, though. Maybe you like this sense of familiarity. Maybe you like to feel real again– maybe you like to feel like yourself. It’s hard to admit it, but you did lose your sense of identity after moving abroad. It’s hard to stay true to yourself with so many new people around and with so many expectations and responsibilities. The pressure changes you, and you now rely on Kim Sunwoo to bring you back to default– to where you’re supposed to be.

“Okay, then,” he nods, thankfully not making a big deal out of your desperate visit, “what would you like to do?” he asks, eyes sparkling under the lights when he looks at you. It’s like an open invitation– he gives you the chance to tell him how you’d like to spend your time with him. He did this a lot when you two were younger as well. It felt good to have someone that would make the effort to enjoy your hobbies with you– no matter how disinterested he could be in the matter.

“Hang out… I guess…?” you hum, shrugging. You didn’t really have anything planned. All you knew was that you wanted to be with him. It’s like the heart’s calling– you don’t know when your inner monologue got so cliche.

“Anything specific?” he asks.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shake your head in disapproval. You fear that you disappointed him, let him down in some way– you came all the way here, after all. You could’ve made something up on the way, couldn’t you? But still– just like the Sunwoo you once knew, so lively and full of ideas– he just purses his lips for a second before speaking the suggestion into existence.

“Well… do you want to bake with me? Like the old times?” he says, sending you a look full of warm honey.

You wouldn’t say no to that invitation. You’d be crazy to do so.

The Kim Sunwoo you used to bake cookies with in the comfort of your kitchen back home wasn’t so skilled in making the dough like he is now. He wasn’t so good at knowing the recipe from memory, nor was he gifted with the kitchen appliances he has now, all professional and shiny, reserved just for the use of the bakery. You don’t really know if he even had the love for baking in him back then– you just know you two enjoyed your time together, and when you are young, that’s all you really cared about anyway. It didn’t matter that he let the cookies burn sometimes. It didn’t really matter that they didn’t turn out well on some days– all morphing into one big block, making you cut the dough into pieces so you could eat it when you accidentally added too much butter.

He still looks the same, though. A few years older, but with the same boyish aura to him when he wipes dirty hands on his apron. All grown up now, but still with the same glint in his eye whenever he looks up at you in between your conversations. When you’re with him, you no longer feel the distance between who you are and who you used to be, the distance between you and him. It’s like the old days, but a little better.

Maybe you have more time now.

The two of you work on the cookie dough, enveloped in a comfortable conversation. “You have to add more sugar,” Sunwoo hums from next to you, watching as you work on the mixture.

“Isn’t it funny how I was the one always giving you directions when we baked together and now you’re the one ordering me around?” you laugh, taking the sugar from the counter and sprinkling more in, listening to the opinion of a professional.

“Well, my cookies don’t turn into one big blob of dough anymore,” he jokes, laughing. “Besides, it’s my job now, so you’d kind of expect me to be good at it.”

“You can’t be so sure of that…” you hum, shaking your head.

“Why? Do you have any experience with being bad at your job?”

“Oh you bet I do,” you laugh, nodding. “I was an intern before, Sunwoo. A colleague of mine once tried to console me by saying being an intern means being bad at the job, so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but I still cried myself to sleep multiple nights,” you conclude, thinking back to your New York endeavors.

“That bad?” Sunwoo asks empathetically.

“Yeah. Mixed up everyone’s coffee order on my first day. When I was confronted about it, I tried to play it off by saying I don’t have a good memory…” you muse.

“Well, it’s hard to remember a lot of stuff at once, to be fair–”

“I was getting coffee for three people, Sunwoo. Objectively speaking, it shouldn’t be as hard…” you say, now thinking back to the events of your internship with more humor than embarrassment.

Sunwoo laughs at your story, shaking his head in disbelief. “Not worse than my teammate back in Boston. The first match of the season, he scored a goal against our own team. His reasoning? He used to play against the goalie back in high school, so he got confused.”

The boy takes over at making the dough once it’s the turn to add in the chocolate chips, glancing at you momentarily when you laugh at his anecdote. Watching him from the side, you heave out through your laughs. “That’s actually hilarious,” you get out, washing your hands in the sink. “What about some funny stories about yourself, though?”

“Don’t have any. I’m too perfect to humiliate myself like that,” he notes, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows at you in an ironic expression, nodding.

“Oh, as if–”

“How is it?” he asks you suddenly in the middle of the sentence, seemingly done with kneading the mixture. Sunwoo puts the cookie dough in front of your lips, waiting for you to taste it. You’d do it all the time when you were both teenagers, but back then, the gesture didn’t feel half as intimate as the mere image of it does now.

Locking eyes with the male, you hesitantly open your mouth and let him put the dough into it, tasting the sweetness on your tongue. Sunwoo’s eyes darken, as if he’s just realized what he’s done, the weight of the situation falling down on him as your tongue comes in contact with the skin of his fingertips. Gulping, he watches as you suck the tip of his digit into your mouth, getting all last remains of the sweetness off of it, something in the air shifting towards a direction you didn’t expect from tonight.

“Good,” you nod, licking your lips, “delicious.”

Seconds turn to what feels like eternities as you stop all motion and look into each other’s eyes, finding any hint of disapproval with the so obvious turn of events. His chocolate orbs peer into yours, making you ignite with something close to an urge you can’t control, his eyes anchoring themselves to the curve of your lips when you decide to let go of all anxiety and insecurities and just go for it. The cookie dough was sweet, but you’ve never tasted anything sweeter than Sunwoo’s lips. You might just have to refresh your mind, you think.

Leaning closer to him, your breathing mixing in the few centimeters left between your mouths, you relish in the déja vu this action brings you. It feels like yesterday, yet also centuries ago since you last kissed the male, and although you’re sure you enjoyed it back then, you wish you could’ve told the younger you to kiss him more often, more firmly, with more passion, maybe even sooner. For longer.

Pressing your lips against his first, almost like always– since Kim Sunwoo was a bit shy with his kisses when you were both just high school seniors– your eyes shut close and everything around you disappears. You guess there’s something about baking that makes the two of you want to feed off each other’s lips– except this time, it’s not practice anymore. It’s not innocent, it’s not clueless. This time, it’s real, alive and passionate. You can’t say you hate the sentiment, the weird parallel your relationship has come to. It’s like you’re reliving your life again, but this time, you know how the story ends– you know how to fix the ending. How to keep him here.

Sunwoo’s more experienced than he was when you kissed him for the first time. He’s less shy and more bold, lips firmer against yours, but still careful and gentle. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw and position you so he has the best access to your mouth as he slips his tongue in, as if chasing down the taste of cookie dough he fed you just a few seconds ago, and although you liked to battle him when you were young, you let him win this time– you let him take you home, bring your mind to where it’s supposed to be.

Hands gripping the front of his shirt, but immediately going to circle around his neck when a particular movement of his makes you moan slightly into his mouth, you play with the hair on his nape and feel him shuddering under your movements, an automatic response that makes fondness spread over your chest. Everything about him is familiar to you– he still reacts the same way to your tender ministrations, he still smiles against your lips when you tangle your fingers through his hair and want to ground yourself in the touch.

You know him like the palm of your hand. It’s easy to get lost in something you are so familiar with, in someone that was once your everything. It’s easy to indulge too much in something that was forcefully taken from you, to get right back where you left with him, because time and circumstances were never on your side.

A touch of his hand on the side of your neck, lips trailing down your mouth towards your jaw. The boldness, the urgency of his movements is enough to have you turn your back against the counter, his body pressed tightly against yours. His palms under the backside of your knees have you sitting up on the cold marble, his lips never breaking away from your skin.

You’re enjoying the shift in the dynamic. You’re enchanted with the way he handles you, like he’s been starved of you for years, wanting to chase down all the time you spent away from each other. Breathing heavily, feeling his plush lips sucking down on the sweet spot under your ear, then trailing down the side until he reaches the juncture of your neck, an involuntary “God…” slips past your mouth.

“I missed you,” he says, words muffling against your skin, “I missed you so much, I felt like I was going crazy.”

The confession makes you dizzy, your whole body growing weak. It’s like he knows exactly what words you wanted to hear. It’s like he knows what haunted you all those years, what you kept asking the universe on sleepless nights over and over, praying for an answer. It’s like he knows exactly how to get you close to him, to have you completely let go of the past.

“I missed your jokes,” he says, planting a kiss on your neck. “I missed your smile,” he presses another one a little more up, “I missed your laugh,” another kiss, now on your jaw. “I missed holding your hand,” a peck planted to the corner of your lips, “and I missed kissing you…” he trails off, pointing his attention back on your mouth, locking the two of you together again, as if kissing you was his new addiction and you were the drug.

Sunwoo’s hot hand creeps up your waist, fingers slipping under the thin fabric of your tank top. The contact makes you shiver in response, your bodies still as responsive to each other as back when you were 19, and when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth and slip your tongue back into his mouth, you feel the boy tug at the right strap of your top, sliding it down your shoulder. You’re barely registering the bowl of dough to your right, the fact that you’re in the kitchen of Juyeon’s parent’s bakery, or the fact that you only just met the boy two weeks ago for the first time in years. All you focus on is him– his touch, his taste, the way he makes you feel. All you know is longing. The desire.

Before you have the chance to take anything further, the sound of the door opening makes you jump away from each other– your head almost hitting the top cabinets, had Sunwoo not instinctively put his hand there to shield you from the impact. Before you get a chance to register what’s happening, a familiar voice calls for you, their tone a little guilty and bashful.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt, or anything–” Juyeon peeps, clearing his throat.

Glancing at Sunwoo, you see his cheeks redden at being caught by his older friend, yet his eyes still roll in annoyance at the interruption. You can’t help but try to hide your face into his shoulder– it’s not like you’re embarrassed of being with Sunwoo, you’re just embarrassed that it had to happen here, of all places.

“Well, you just did,” Sunwoo grunts, frustration coating his words.

“I’m just here to grab something,” Juyeon hums, almost racing through the room to get to the fridge on the other side of the kitchen, taking out a carton of milk from the inside and showing it to the two of you. “This is gonna go bad soon, so I’m taking it home to use it. Uhm.. anyways, well, don’t let me stop you in anything… bye!”

Neither of you greet the male back, instead sharing a meaningful, knowing look between each other. The view of your first boyfriend with his lips puffy, cheeks flushed and hair a little disheveled makes your senses go crazy, and although you’d like to continue what you started, you don’t think now is the right time or place.

Hopping off the counter, you smile. “So… where were we with the cookies?”

to. my first girlfriend

May 2000

Eyes trained on the ball, feet restless as he runs across the field to retrieve it and pass it to one of the shooters– either Donghyuck or Jinyoung, the more capable ones of the team– Sunwoo finds himself completely focused on the game. It’s one of the last matches of the season, and since he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to play his favorite sport again– he hasn’t received a verdict on the university applications he sent yet– the boy figures he should enjoy each game like it’s the last. Because who knows– one day, it may as well be, and if he’s not prepared for it, if he has any regrets, he knows he’ll take it harder than he’s supposed to.

Kim Sunwoo’s position in football is midfielder. While Eric once told him that it’s a loser position, since he’s not the shooter and he doesn’t score many goals (which is a lie– the boy had him know he scored his fair share despite his defensive position on the field), Sunwoo’s grown to love it. He’s the one that’s supposed to counter all attacks on his teammates. He’s the one that runs after the ball and passes it to the shooters, so technically, he’s the reason why any of them even have the opportunity to score. His position is as important as any other player's, and he takes pride in the compliments he gets from his coach whenever he does particularly well at a game.

Sunwoo loves football. He’d say his first love is football, but something inside of him keeps telling him that that’s a lie (don’t ask him why. It’s a secret.). It’s the first game he’s ever been exceptionally good at, the first thing he could do for periods longer than a few weeks. He’s been playing with the ball since he was young, and although he never had a father to kick the football around with in his backyard, his sister was always happy to be included in anything he was into at the time– when she got older, she even got better at being his designated goalie, although less interested in the play itself. Sunwoo feels like he lets go of all worries when he plays. It’s good to have an escape, something to keep his mind occupied. He doesn’t have many things to worry about, but he finds that kicking the ball around, making strategies in his brain on how to get it to his teammates the fastest, is enough for him to get out both his frustration and get something nice out of it. He enjoys the thrill. He enjoys the excitement, the shared joy of the team whenever someone scores a goal. He is addicted to the ecstasy in his veins whenever his team wins.

It was easy to determine that if Sunwoo wanted to do anything for the rest of his life, it would be football. It’s what he enjoys, what he loves. It’s what he’s good at.

It’s strange to imagine a time when he wouldn’t play football. He doesn’t even want to imagine it in the first place– it makes a chill run down his spine and an unsettling feeling churn in his stomach. In a perfect world, he’s always a football player.

Everyone keeps telling him he could easily make it professional, if he tried.

Football is how he met most of his friends. It’s how he met Juyeon– he was the captain of the high school team when Sunwoo was a sophomore, and he found that hanging out with the older boy was easy and fun. It’s how he met Donghyuck and Jihoon (before the latter dropped out of the team after a few months). It’s how he met you.

His coach always warned the players about dating the cheerleaders. For his coach, it wasn’t right to do so– it would throw off the dynamic of the game. “Nobody wants their ex to stare at them during their game!” the coach had said– not even thinking of the possibility of any of those teenage romances to last. Sunwoo only laughed back then. It wasn’t something he should be afraid of– he never liked anyone on the cheer team.

Until… until he did. Sunwoo met you on one sunny day, at your joint cheer-slash-football practice. You pointed out that the number on his jersey– 03– was your favorite, and the boy felt himself smile. Ever since then, he never wore any other number. He considered it to be his lucky charm. What started as friendship blossomed into something much more for the boy, and somehow, he can’t even remember when the feelings he had for you morphed into adoration. He doesn’t know when they shifted Into absolute enchantment, or Into a silly crush– he doesn’t know when he started seeing you in a light that was more romantic.

Wearing your favorite number on his back, Sunwoo runs towards the opposing player. There’s something akin to an angry face playing with the man’s features, and Sunwoo imagines it’s because of the very clear lead his team has on them. Sunwoo makes sure he doesn’t slip as he tackles the opposing player– he swears he heard someone call the shooter Jaechan– and as soon as he secures the ball, Sunwoo aims to forward it to his teammate.

The screams resonating all around him– although he tries hard to filter them out to focus on the game completely– suggest that it’s only a few moments before the game is over. It wouldn’t matter even if they didn’t score the goal, but something inside of Sunwoo’s heart leaps at the thought of winning with such a lead. The boyish excitement only grows when he watches Donghyuck retrieve the goal and run towards the goalpost, neon-orange sneakers shining through the green grass.

“Come on!” Sunwoo cheers, a hopeful spark lighting within him as the boy prepares to shoot, eyes quickly scanning the field.

And Lee Donghyuck almost never lets him down. Maybe that’s why he liked the boy so much in the first place– Sunwoo didn’t like players that dismissed the chance he won for them. He liked the skillful ones. The ones that knew what they were doing. (He also liked Donghyuck’s humor. He found himself grateful to have a friend so funny. He made even losing feel like it wasn’t such a big deal.)

Choosing the golden shooter proved to be a good idea once again– Donghyuck, number 35, shoots for the goal and the ball gets in. Seconds after, the sound of a whistle is heard across the place, the game over with Sunwoo’s team winning 4:1.

Everyone cheers– yells from the audience are heard, excitement reeking through the air. The whole football team gathers around, sweaty bodies sticking together as they perform some sort of a cliche group hug, arms patting each other’s backs and complimenting each other’s play.

The commotion dissolves shortly after. Sunwoo finds himself trying to catch his breath, eyes looking across the space for someone in particular. His heart leaps even harder when he finds you standing at the edge of the field in your cheer uniform, a big smile plastered on your face. Your eyes are glimmering as they meet with his. Your hair is a little tousled from the routine you just finished doing and there are smears and smudges on your cheeks from the face paint you used to symbolize the team’s colors– blue and gold. Over-all, you look ecstatic.

Sunwoo finds himself running over to you before he even registers that he’s going to do it. He’s like a fast, unguided missile, the goal of getting to you as fast as possible being the only thing resonating through his excited mind.

“Good jo-” you grunt as the boy finally gets to you, words cutting off when he (maybe a little harshly) puts his arms around your middle and picks you up, twirling you around. You screech a little into his ear and he finds himself laughing at your reaction. It’s like a runner's high– he feels like right now, he is capable of everything.

“Okay! Okay! Put me down!” you laugh when you start to get a little dizzy. The boy complies, since he’s running out of strength to carry you anyways, and puts you back to your feet. His arms stay tightly wrapped around your body, though, locking you into a secure hug.

“We won!” he cheers, the brightest grin settling to his lips as he announces the obvious.

You beam at him, eyes soft and crinckled into little moon crescents, a dumbfounded smile playing with your features. “I know, Sherlock,” you dismiss him again with the teasing nickname, shaking your head in disbelief, “I was here. Cheering for you,” you say.

And sure, Sunwoo knows that by you, you don’t necessarily mean him in particular– more like cheering for the whole team, the whole 11 players on the field– but something about the sentiment makes his stomach feel all light and a slight blush spread over his glowing cheeks. You were here– cheering for him (and his team) – and although you’re here out of your own will, out of your own devotion to your hobby, he somehow feels grateful for your presence. You never miss a game. You went even when you caught the flu and felt too sick to do your cheer routine– you just sat on the bench and rooted for your best friend. (The team lost that match. Sunwoo felt a little bad for tugging you out of your bed for it.)

The boy studies your face for a while. You look perfectly content in his hold. You fit perfectly into his arms, he thinks– almost like you’re supposed to be there all the time. He should hug you more often, he decides. Sunwoo foolishly finds himself focusing onto your lips– he blames the shiny lipgloss you put on today– the words coming out of your mouth not quite registering in his brain. “As I was saying, good job! The whole team, but you especially. Don’t tell anyone, but I think you really shined in this game. I’m really prou–”

A single peck is pressed to your glossy, sticky lips, cutting you off in the middle of the sentence yet again. Sunwoo surprises himself with the gesture– he was always too shy to initiate something with you, too hesitant to even touch you sometimes– but the euphoria is still playing with his senses, clouding his brain. He doesn’t think of consequences.

He can’t control himself anymore. It’s been weeks since you two kissed for the first time– exactly 4 and a half weeks since you taught him how to do so– and since that afternoon, he found himself thinking about it every single day, every single minute, all. The. Time. You two haven’t spoken about it since, making the poor boy a little disappointed, but he respected your decision. He knew that you didn’t particularly reciprocate his feelings, but he still expected your dynamic to shift. At least a little bit.

And although he should’ve been glad nothing changed and your friendship didn’t crumble because of a simple kiss, he found himself desiring to kiss you every time he saw your face.

You peer at him with eyes wide open, mouth a little agape. Sunwoo doesn’t really know how to read your reaction– you didn’t look particularly happy, but you also didn’t push him away– and so in the moment of panic, he begins to backtrack, his arms untangling from your sides.

“I- I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundary, or if I–”

You’re not fans of letting each other finish their sentences today, it seems. Before Sunwoo gets a chance to put a bigger distance between the two of you, he watches as you get on your tippy-toes and press a tender kiss on his lips– more firmer than the one he dared to give you, a little bit longer, yet still sweetly short. There’s something soft and gentle in your gaze when you pull away and press another peck onto his face– the tip of his nose this time– and Sunwoo almost physically feels his knees turning into jello, his own celebratory firework show erupting in the pits of his stomach.

“So, as I was saying,” you hum, hugging the boy around his neck, “you did well. You looked good out there,” you peep, the sparks in your eyes making Sunwoo’s skin burn with their contact.

That day, you teach him that to be loved is to have someone sharing your achievements with. To be loved is to be adored, to be loved is to have someone watching you and cheering you on, to have someone to run to with good news.

Kim Sunwoo’s football team won the match, but the boy thinks that perhaps, that day, he won something even greater.

to. my first lover

August 2000

The admission papers arrive at his house the morning he’s supposed to sleep over at your house. Your parents decided to take a trip to your aunt’s place for two days, so you invite the boy into the comfort of your home for the weekend– as far as Sunwoo’s mother is concerned, he’s sleeping over at Juyeon’s. He doesn’t have the boy covering him, but he’s also sure his mother won’t try to check if he’s telling her the truth. He’s not banned from having a girlfriend– he just doesn’t want his mum to get any wrong ideas.

He finds the envelope in the mailbox when he comes home from school, and something in his stomach drops when he sees the american stamp on the top right corner of the white paper. He debates on opening it, but every time he hypes himself up enough to tear the top of the envelope off, a little anxious voice on his inside tells him to wait.

Although reluctant to admit it to himself, Sunwoo is a little scared to see the result of his university application. Before he leaves for your house, he puts the envelope into the front pocket of his backpack and tries to forget about it. It works a bit better when he sees your face, hears your laugh– when he spends time with you and you two play the new board game you got from your cousin. Still, the weight of the envelope keeps bugging him in his mind no matter how hard he tries forgetting about it, and you finally notice (or finally bring it up after hours of ignoring his weird mood) when the two of you lay together in your bed in the evening, both facing the ceiling.

“Is everything alright?” you ask.

“Hm?” Sunwoo hums, lost in thought. “Oh, yeah,” he nods, “don’t worry.”

You don’t seem convinced. Shuffling a little in your sheets, you turn towards him and move your body closer to his, your arm suddenly draping over his middle. A tender kiss is placed on his temple, almost making him crumble under the gentle care, and your voice earns a concerned kind of timbre when you speak to him. “You can tell me,” you hum, “boyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to tell each other things.”

Boyfriends and girlfriends. Sunwoo feels himself soften under the possessive title. It has been close to 4 months of you dating– starting with the winning match in April, progressing slowly through the summer break– but the fact that you’re his partner is still a little unbelievable to him. Sometimes, when he hears you call him your boyfriend, he still gets a little bashful. He still feels like he’s been told the greatest news of his life.

Maybe it’s the nature of this sentiment that has him slowly unraveling to you. And maybe, it’s because he’d tell you anyways– you’d be the first to know. He was just waiting for the right time to bring it up.

“The reply to my university application came in the mail this morning…” he trails off, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

You plop up on your elbow, watching the boy from above. Eyes big, you peer into his face. “And?” you ask, an expecting gaze glazing his features.

“I… I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I was too scared to open it alone.”

“O-Oh,” you nod, furrowing your brows at him, “well, it’s okay to be scared. I believe in you, but even if it doesn’t go the way you wanted it to, I’m still proud of you for trying,” you say, a gentle tone of voice cooing at him, like the nature of the way you play with his hair, wanting to make the boy relax from his anxieties.

“I have the letter here with me,” he says, swallowing, “in my bag.”

“Do you want to open it together?” you ask, watching as the boy nods.

He’s getting off the bed in no time, wearing just sweatpants and a baggy shirt to sleep in, grabbing his bag from the corner of your room and unzipping the small compartment at the front. His fingers take the envelope out, legs walking him over back to your bed, your figure now sitting against the headboard. Sunwoo finds himself mirroring your position as his fingers turn the little white thing in his hold with much stumbling, preparing himself for whatever answer awaits him inside.

Glancing at you, seeing you looking at him with an encouraging expression on your face, Sunwoo takes a big breath in and out to calm his nerves before he tears the top open and takes out the expensive-feeling paper. Not stopping his actions anymore, knowing that if he takes another moment to himself, he won’t be able to read the letter, he unravels the note and lets his eyes skim over the words.

Before he even has a chance to register the sentences written down in the letter, before he can even let his mind accept the result he’s given– ‘we are pleased to announce that you were admitted to the athlete scholarship program…’– he feels a pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders, jolting him awake from his thoughts.

“You made it! Oh my god, you made it!” you cheer, excitement taking over your whole body as you shake the boy in your hold from side to side. The reality still isn’t quite settling in for him, so he just lets you do whatever you please– which includes all of the following: screaming incoherent words into his ear when you hug him closer to your chest, planting a kiss to his cheek and throwing your hands up into the air in a winning gesture.

“You made it, Sunwoo,” you repeat, this time a little more collected.

Sunwoo finally allows himself to put the letter away and look into your eyes. “I made it,” he sighs, a soft smile playing with his features.

“You did!” you nod, grinning back.

It’s strange. The first step towards Sunwoo’s dream is now complete. He got admitted to the university of his dreams– the one that’s good for athletes, the one that is supposed to shoot him towards stardom. He has the opportunity to take classes there and train with some of the best aspiring players in the whole world. He has the opportunity to move out of the country, live at dorms in Boston, and most importantly, he has everyone’s support.

There’s nothing more a boy his age could want more. He has everything. His whole life ahead of him, only the brightest future waiting for him at the end– only if he keeps trying hard and improving. He’s happy. Don’t get him wrong– he really is. Somehow, though, it all feels a bit scary.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited?” you ask, a pout taking over your once excited features. The amount of worries you have over Sunwoo gets bigger and bigger the older the two of you are. There are only so many things that can go wrong when you are a teenager, but now that you’re adulting, the list keeps getting longer.

“I am,” he nods, forcing a smile onto his lips.

“You don’t seem excited,” you argue.

“I am! I really am,” he says, trying to battle with himself.

“What is it?”

“What is what?”

“Come on, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “I can tell when something’s wrong. You don’t have to hide it from me, because I’ll know anyway. What is it?” you insist, staring the boy down with an examining look.

The boy sighs, shrugging to himself. “Well,” he starts, “the school is in America.”

“And?” you start, furrowing your eyebrows. “We knew that when you applied. Why is it such a problem now?” you ask, genuinely not grasping the whole situation.

Sunwoo chews on his cheek for a little while, plays with his fingers in his lap. A part of him is telling him that he both looks and seems foolish– because you’re right. It was his dream, he is excited, and this is good news. But still, there’s something he didn’t really think of when applying. Well, he did. He just thinks that the fact that him being accepted wasn’t really a realistic idea, no matter how hard he wished and prayed for it, so he didn’t have the need to think about it so seriously back then. Now it’s here, all real, and it’s a struggle he didn’t really grasp that he was going to have to go through.

“Well,” he starts again, still avoiding your eyes, “that means I have to move. And we won’t see each other for a while.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence following his confession– one in which he contemplates all possible reactions you might give him, some with truly catastrophic endings– but after what seems like eternities, he hears your soft, gentle voice. “Is that what’s making you so worried?” you ask.

“Kind of,” he nods, feeling his cheeks redden. You handle him with so much care– sometimes, he doesn’t know how to react.

“Awh,” you coo, taking his hand into yours, preventing him from picking at the skin of his cuticles until they bleed– an action he always does and you keep scolding him for. “Sunwoo, we knew about this when you applied. I am okay with you going away. Sure, it will suck, but it’s only for a little time, and I can come visit you there and you’ll show me around and stuff…”

Sunwoo presses a tight-lipped, hesitant smile to his lips. He feels reassured.

“And we’ll call, and it’s going to be fine, because this is good. This is good news, Sunwoo, and you’re gonna do great, and you’re gonna be a star, and I’ll be so, so proud of you,” you hum, voice tender and caring, doing your best at consoling the boy.

“I’m already so proud of you now, y’know?” you hum, squeezing his hand. “Everything will be alright, so don’t you worry.”

Sunwoo’s arms reach out to envelop you into a hug. He once again recognises how easily you fit into his arms, how perfectly you shape into his skin, and when he burrows his nose into your neck, breathing in your scent, he feels your lips reach into his hair, planting a soft kiss into it. Your words did more to the boy than only consult him– they gave him hope, they gave him joy, they made him feel like perhaps, this is not such a terrifying occurrence. And it really isn’t– it’s quite possibly the best thing that he’s ever achieved, and the circumstances of him leaving don’t seem as horrifying to him now.

As long as he knows that you have his back, he thinks he can do anything. And what’s 3 years abroad against the 4 years he’s known you?

When you pull away, you press your lips against his, the contact making his muscles finally relax and his mind let go of all the worries. There’s suddenly nothing in the world that could make him falter, nothing that could make him worry or stress or fret or change his mind, because he has your support, and you’re here with him, promising him that you’ll always be right by his side, wherever he is.

Your mouth molds against his, the familiar motion of your lips against his still surprising him sometimes, still making him curious even after those months. He’s been dating you for some while, but he still likes to explore what makes you crumble under him, what makes you hum into the kiss, what makes you tug him closer to you– it’s a fun game to him, trying to figure you out completely.

He still has some time, but it’s like he is trying to engrave those moments into his memory before he no longer can experience them first-hand as easily.

He goes out to explore again– his tongue gently inviting itself into your mouth with a swipe of your lower lip, relishing in the way your composure falters a little bit, letting him be in charge. You were always the more experienced one out of you two, so Sunwoo often shied away from being the one dominating intimate situations– afraid he’s not good enough, too inexperienced, too immature for you– but in the rare moments he does take the lead, your reactions give him a new source of confidence.

His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, nose pressing against your cheek as he angles you so he has more access to your lips. Something about his ministrations makes you forget to breathe, breaking away from him in a search for much needed oxygen, but Sunwoo acts like he’s been starved of you, latching his lips to the trail from your mouth towards your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses to your soft skin. He faintly remembers the time you gave him a lovebite that one time you came over to his house to work on homework together, sucking and biting at his neck (and although he enjoyed seeing the possessive bruise on his skin whenever he saw himself in the mirror, he wore the strings of his hoodies tightly tied to his neck, shielding him from being teased by everyone– but mostly Eric). He tries to mirror your motions, recreating the action to the best of his abilities.

He hears you grunt, making him fear that he’s doing it wrong– a momentarily panic settling in his chest screaming at him that he hurt you– but the worries are quickly dismissed as you move impossibly closer to the boy, straddling his lap and threading your fingers through his hair, keeping him close.

Humming under his touch, Sunwoo gets a kick from hearing the sounds coming out of your mouth. It’s like a reward– it’s like the praise he goes after his whole life, like validation of his actions being satisfactory for you. The pressure of your body against his lap makes him feel hot all over, sweaty hands holding you by your sides. Every slightest shift of your figure against his makes him shudder, composure faltering when you move in a way that has his breathing particularly quicken, a bundle of nerves forming in his stomach from the newly found hypersensitivity. There’s only so much fabric shielding the two of you from each other, and just the thought of it is slowly driving the boy crazy.

Pulling away from your neck, admiring the artwork he managed to portray on your skin, he feels you pulling him up to meet your lips again, heated, firm kisses shared in the silence of the room. He feels your hands resting on his abdomen, feeling him up for a moment before you sneak them under the hem of his shirt, dragging your nails against his skin.

Sunwoo hears a sound escape his throat at the contact, making him instantly feel foolish– until he feels you smile against his lips, following your ministrations by mirroring his previous actions and kissing down his neck, finding all the spots that make him the most reactive– like the place under his ear, the juncture of his shoulder. You revisit all the places you’ve tested before and perfected your aim to make him efficiently crumble under you. Sunwoo finds himself losing the initial control he had over the situation, instead letting you take over and lead him, much like you’ve done in most areas of his life. He likes to be your follower. He likes to see where you want him, where you need him, he likes to comply. It’s more comfortable for him this way. It makes him swell with pride when he makes you happy.

Another shift of your hips against him has Sunwoo digging his fingers to your side, whole body feeling like it’s electrified under your touch. Placing a soft peck to the spot you’ve had your attention on, you mumble into his skin. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Sunwoo swallows, noticing you leaning your forehead against his tenderly, eyes meeting.

“Are you sure?”

He nods. He’s never been more sure about anything in his life– he enjoys your company, he loves your touch, the way you make his every sense heighten, his heart beat quicker. Still, he feels a bit nervous at the prospected events. “I just– I’ve never done this before,” Sunwoo whispers the obvious, watching as you carefully observe him.

“Sweetheart,” you tenderly call, placing a soft peck to his lips. “That’s okay. Me neither, but we could… we could try and see where this leads us, if you’d like?”

The sweet pet name alone makes the boy let go of all his worries, of the stress and nerves he’s been holding on to for the past few weeks. You hold him like he’s going to break, and Sunwoo’s never felt so loved before. You reassure him that it’s going to be okay. You are there to remind him that life isn’t so hard, as long as you’re by his side.

“Okay,” he nods, smiling at you.

“Okay,” you repeat, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him again– it may as well be for the thousandth time. Truth is, while he tried to keep up at first, Sunwoo lost count a long time ago.

Everything there is to know about love, Kim Sunwoo learned from you. You showed him the childlike playfulness during your dates. You taught him how to kiss, only to take advantage of his newly found skills and keep them all for yourself. You showed him what it is to share joys, dreams, but also worries together. You were his first crush, date, relationship– and now, his first lover.

In the comfort of your childhood bedroom, holding you closer than ever, Sunwoo dreams of eternity with you. He doesn’t realize what a foolish thought it might be. Somehow, he’s got a feeling that no matter what it is, you two will figure it out. You always do.

to. my first love

September 2000

Muscles sore and whole body heaving in pain, Sunwoo trails inside the small bungalow the university gave him as student accommodation, dropping his duffel bag to the floor. His face is pulled into a small frown as he enters the house and his roommate can’t help but notice. “Everything alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo hums, nodding at the question. He has 3 assigned roommates– all male, all around his age. Sunwoo’s english isn’t bad, but it also isn’t that great either. He knew that this was going to be one of the main concerns of him moving out abroad, but he figured that the more you encounter the language, the more comfortable you get with it. Due to this, though, the two American boys he rooms with– their names are Josh and Sam– aren’t as close with him. Sunwoo doesn’t really blame them. It’s not like he tried to get close with them anyway. He talks much more with Mark, the one year older boy that’s also Korean, but has been living in the States for years now. The language barrier is nearly nonexistent there, and so he feels much more comfortable.

Not comfortable enough to vent to him about his problems, though. It’s good to share a laugh with Mark when they eat breakfast together in the kitchen, but he won’t go on and talk his ear off about his homesickness, for example. Sunwoo wouldn’t talk to him about the weird, unsettling feeling in his gut whenever he takes the bus or walks down the street, not recognising every face he encounters like he did back home, in his small town. He won’t tell Mark Lee about how much he misses Korea– he’s sure the boy has his own things to worry about. Besides, it’s not like Mark talks about personal stuff with him either. After four days of living here, he can’t say their relationship got to the level of going deep with their personal lives.

And so, Sunwoo walks up the stairs in silence, not giving Mark more information about his mood. Each step up hurts, since the training is twice as demanding as it used to be at home, making his muscles sore and his back hurt terribly from the stone hard mattress in the bed of his new home. He is willing to endure it, but he also has the terrific need to complain about it to anyone that would be willing to listen.

He should start writing a diary, he thinks as he stares up on the ceiling, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It sounds good enough to channel his feelings out into while also not being a bother to anyone else. Besides, he doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s having a hard time here in Boston. This was all his decision, his dream, and sometimes, things are going to get difficult. And that’s okay. Sunwoo just… feels like he lacks the support system he once had back home in Korea. Like someone took it from between his fingertips, forcefully kept it away from him, locked somewhere miles away. Maybe the person who did that to him was himself all along…

Which is why he doesn’t deserve to whine about the fact that he feels terribly lonely. He did this to himself. All him.

If he had a diary, he’d write about the terrible mattress first, he thinks. Then, the weird weather around here– it’s always hot, but not humid. It doesn’t rain as much. He kind of misses the rain.

If he had a diary, he’d write about how he misses his old coach. The high school coach that always made sure the game was fun, yet productive. He misses his teammates as well. Their team never did big things, but he felt like they were some sort of a family. They knew each other well on the field. They had chemistry. They had fun.

He’d write about how he misses his annoying little sister. How he wishes she would appear in the doorway of his room and talked to him about the stickers she still collects, or dragged him to make another friendship bracelet together. How he feels bad for leaving her all alone back home, even though he was never the one to share his brotherly love for her so outwardly growing up. He feels a sort of appreciation for her that he didn’t quite understand when they were little. They are right when they say your sibling is your first best friend after all.

He’d write about the second best friend he’s ever made, Eric. He’d write about how he longs for his presence, his encouraging words. His funny remarks, the pranks he’d pull on him. How he always appreciated him being just across the street, how he enjoyed growing up with him by his side.

He’d write about how much he misses you– perhaps the most out of everyone. There aren’t many words he could use to describe how much he wishes for your presence, and so he thinks the pages filled with sentences directed to you would be rather sparse, and it makes him kind of sad to think about. In his mind, you deserve novels written about you. You deserve love letters and poems and essays filled with every little detail of your existence. Maybe if Sunwoo loved you less, he would be able to talk about it more.

When his eyes go out of focus staring at the ceiling, Sunwoo decides to call you. It’s been 4 days since he arrived and he hasn’t spoken to you since you waved him off to the airport. His mother drove him and you couldn’t go to send him off at the gate, but Sunwoo almost thinks he prefers the fact that you only said goodbye to him in front of his house. It would be that much harder if he saw your face the last thing before boarding the plane.

For the last four days, he’s been slowly settling in, taking in the new country and the new environment. He’d say he was just too busy to call, but that would be a lie.

He was just scared to hear your voice. Terribly.

What if you changed your mind? What if you no longer want to stay with him? What if it’s too hard to handle? And Sunwoo knows it’s hard– hell, it’s the most difficult thing he’s ever done– but all he wishes is for you to keep handling it well. To keep his heart in your hands gently, like you always have, sending him your energy.

He figures that if there’s one thing that can help his growing homesickness, it is to hear your voice.

Sitting up from his bed and walking over to the bag he carried with him through the airport and kept with him on the plane, he scrambles through the item to find the piece of paper you forced into his hand on the driveway of his house.

“We changed our landline yesterday, so call me on this number when you get there,” you said, pressing a kiss towards his cheek before you let him get into his mother’s car. Sunwoo promised to call back then– he hopes you don’t mind the delay. Maybe he could blame the timezones…

Hand thrusting into the front pocket of the bag, Sunwoo feels around and tries to fish out the little piece of paper. He’s 100% certain he put it there after he got into the car with his mum, making sure it’s safe and sound. He would hate to lose it– it was some sort of safety net for him. Something to fall back to, something to keep him above the water.

Panic settles in his chest when he doesn’t feel the soft piece of paper anywhere. The boy unzips all other compartments of the bag, turning it around, shaking out everything that’s inside. The phone number to your new landline has to be there somewhere in there. It needs to be.

When he doesn’t find it in his bag, he opens his closet. He throws everything out to the ground– his clothing, his shoes, the notebooks he bought for university– all in the search of the stupid, little, yet so important piece of paper. He searches through all his other bags. All pockets of his jeans, every centimeter of his folded clothing. All drawers of his desk, the whole floor, hell, he even crouches to check under his bed, blowing the dust bunnies out of reach, desperately hoping he could wish the paper into existence. He searches his bed. All possible parts where the landline number could be– some more unreasonable than others. Sunwoo feels like he is losing his mind.

The paper is nowhere in his room. It’s like it vanished. Was it really there at all? Did he dream that moment up?

Running down the stairs towards the landline, he takes the phone off the wall and punches in the numbers to your old landline, the pattern so familiar in his fingertips he couldn’t tell you the number if you asked, but he could recreate it with punching in the buttons in on any other phone in the world. He clenches his fist together, breathing more heavily as he listens in, praying for the universe to stop playing tricks on him and make you magically answer on the other side.

When the phone makes a dismissive sound, signaling that the number he called no longer exists, Sunwoo shuts the phone against the wall and takes it again, putting in your old number once more, like a summoning ritual. Maybe he put the numbers in wrong the first time… Maybe he made a mistake somewhere along the way…

When he gets the same response, he tries again. And again. And again.

He can’t believe it. Tension settles into his shoulders, making him twirl the cord of the landline in between his fingers as a way to calm himself down, listening in to the dull noise on the other side telling him there’s nothing that can be done, nothing more that he can do. He doesn’t have the number, and somehow, although it sounds foolish, it feels like he lost you alongside it too.

“Everything alright, man? You look–” Mark enters the room, peering at the boy with curious, worried eyes. It’s only now that Sunwoo realizes he is breathing heavily, fingers clammy on the cord, heart begging to run out of his chest to get all across the ocean to you. It’s only now that he realizes his cheeks are wet with tears, the solidification of his inner turmoil taking a physical form and appearing on his face, making him feel pathetic in front of the older boy.

Sunwoo once again puts the phone back to its original place, but this time, he doesn’t take it back and tries the useless old phone number again. Simply turning away from his roommate, he accepts his fate as he quickly puts on his shoes and slams the door shut after him, going out for a run.

Is this his punishment for waiting too long? Did the paper vanish out of his possession because he was deemed unworthy of hearing your voice? Should he have tried to look for the number earlier? Would this have prevented it?

It’s hard to run when your nose is stuffed and your breathing hitches with silenced sobs, he learns. Sunwoo doesn’t get as far as he would have liked, crumbling on a bench somewhere next to a playground, picking at the dry skin of his lips until they bleed and the irony taste on his tongue snaps him back into reality.

What was once his dream is starting to feel more like a nightmare. When he calls Eric two days after to ask him to get him your new landline number, he gets the news that you abruptly moved out to New York.

September 2007

“If you really think about it, Y/N,” Sunwoo hums, making you shift your attention towards his serious-looking face, “we never really broke up in the first place.”

The boy is holding a bottle of cider in his hand, one of the four you got on your way to your tonight’s destination. Sunwoo rang the bell to your house a few minutes before 10 PM, and although you weren’t expecting to see him that day and you weren’t even looking as presentable as you’d like, you agreed to take a walk with him. Somehow, the two of you found yourselves climbing over the fence of your old high school, sneaking into the football field, figures settling on one of the benches of the tribune.

“Oh yeah,” you hum, lightness evident in your tone, “you just never called. What’s up with that, by the way?” you ask, snickering when you watch the male avert his gaze in a bashful manner, as if he was embarrassed to tell you his reasoning.

You take a sip of the apple cider, enjoying the sweet, fruity taste on your tongue, watching as the male contemplates his next response for a bit, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I lost your new landline number,” he peeps, voice barely louder than a whisper.

His answer doesn’t register immediately in your brain. The words take a moment to string themselves together into a sentence, taking another few seconds before you understand the meaning of his confession. A soft laugh drags out of your throat, disbelief coating your very essence. “What?”

“Yeah,” he nods, scratching the back of his neck before looking back at you, eyes full of guilt and shame, “I… I lost the number you gave me, and when I called Eric to try to make him get me your new number, he told me you moved to New York, and I guess… I guess I took it as a sign…?” he says, shrugging.

“A sign of what?” you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his answer.

All this time, you thought he didn’t call because he didn’t want to. You thought he didn’t call because he was too busy, too tired to deal with anything else other than his career at the moment. He was trying his hardest and training every day, so you understood that he wouldn’t have time for you every day. When he didn’t call for so long, even after you moved to the States as well– you hoped he’d somehow try searching for your number even then, because in your mind, everything was possible– one day, you just… stopped waiting for him to call. You stopped hoping you would hear his voice on the other side of the line.

And you accepted it. He realized long distance relationships were too difficult to maintain, especially in that time and age, and he had too many of his own worries to take care of before focusing his attention somewhere else. You didn’t resent him, no. You longed for him, you missed him, but you never once hated him for the decision he made. You wished him well, all this time.

“A sign that… that maybe we weren’t meant to be,” he hums, shrugging. “It sounds stupid, really, but…” he trails off, cutting himself off in the middle of the sentence.

Something about his confession makes you feel a bit lighter. Your shoulders feel like there’s no longer anything weighing them down. It’s not like you waited for an explanation all those years and when you finally got one, something in you shifted into a more comfortable position.

“For me, back then, you were the right person, wrong time. And I didn’t want to let you go, I really didn’t, it’s just… everything was already so hard and the world seemed to put so many obstacles in my way of contacting you, that I thought it was the universe telling me to drop it and let you go. So you could… so you could find someone else, I guess…” he finishes explaining. He averts his gaze from you, pointing it towards the empty field, as if scared to see your reaction to his blabbering. He takes another few sips of his cider, snickering. “It wasn’t fair of me to want you to wait for me either.”

So you could find someone else… You think back to all the times you went on dates after you concluded that your relationship with Sunwoo was over. You try to remember their faces, their mannerisms in such detail that you could only make up one of your previous lovers– the one sitting next to you right now– and you chuckle at your foolishness. Remembering how you kept comparing every new person in your life to the one that stole your heart first, remembering how you thought about him late at night, wondering where he is right now and how he’s doing. You used to look through the sports parts of newspapers, looking for his name somewhere, looking for his team name, but never seeing a glance of how he was doing. You wore the stupid friendship bracelet he gave you in your junior year around in New York, having people point it out and ask about it, all until it broke off by itself one day and you reluctantly said goodbye to the sentiment.

You dated around after losing contact with Sunwoo. You don’t really think you found someone else, though.

“I wanted to wait for you, though,” you say, shuffling closer to the male on the bench, voice sincere. “It was my decision.”

“Well,” he chuckles, “life had other plans for us two.”

His sentence makes you think. A few days ago, it would make you sad. Embarrassed, even. Life had other plans for you two and they didn’t align with what you two have calculated during the summer break after your senior year. Sunwoo didn’t become a star. His football career never took off. He finished his degree and came back home, bitter and heartbroken.

Your plans ended just as fast as you came up with them. Not going to university after high school, you were left with nothing to do. When the opportunity to take an internship for a news company in New York came to you so suddenly, you took it without thinking, trying to find your place in the big world ahead of you. You had no plan, but you think that maybe, some part of you wanted to get away from your hometown all along. You wanted to do big things, make everyone proud. Being a news anchor wasn’t even something you dreamed of when you were little, so you guess you weren't supposed to really feel that let down, but the defeat still stings.

Or, at least, it used to. You find that the failure doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

Looking at the male next to you, you think you know the reason why. “It’s okay,” you say, shrugging, “we figured it out anyways, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Sunwoo sighs, looking at you with a soft smile playing with his lips. “I guess we did.”

The sound of cicadas hits your ears when you two fall into a comfortable silence. Healing old wounds was surely one of the items on your check list when you came back home, but you didn’t expect to get over things so quickly. You don’t think you would have been able to get over everything alone, though– and this makes you twice as grateful to still have Sunwoo by your side. A sense of nostalgia takes over you at the fact, but this time, it hits you with more fondness than longing for the old times.

“Remember how young we were? It’s like I still see you chasing the ball around the field when I focus hard enough,” you say, pointing ahead of you.

Sunwoo laughs, shaking his head at your antics. “Yeah. I almost see you leading the cheer practice in the back there,” he points, “in your cute cheer uniform, with the ridiculous pom poms in your hands–”

“Hey, don’t call them ridiculous,” you gasp, “they were my favorite part of the whole routine!”

“Oh, I could tell,” he laughs, poking fun at you.

“Well, you must have liked the pom poms enough to stare at me during practice all the time,” you shrug, teasing the male back. The fact that Sunwoo had a crush on you long before you reciprocated the feelings wasn’t something you two explicitly talked about before, but you always deemed as clear as day. Or, at least, it was to everyone back then.

“I did not–” he gasps, making you gently shove him with your elbow.

“Come on, everybody used to say you had a crush on me back then,” you hum, “you were pretty obvious with it too.”

“You knew?” he looks at you, eyes big and surprised. Gears clearly running in his head, he tries to piece the information together, running through the memories now so distant, but still so clear.

“Girls always know,” you point out, shrugging. You take another sip of your cider, licking your lips after and speaking up again, tone of voice almost confidential. “I just acted like I didn’t. But then I realized I liked you back, so I was trying everything in my power to make you confess to me first. Which… took you long enough, young man,” you giggle, seeing the male shake his head at you in disapproval.

“You could’ve confessed first, if you were so confident,” he mutters, obviously a little gutted by the revelation.

“That would be below my level,” you nod, pressing your lips together into a straight line, “besides, it was fun watching you act all cute and clueless.”

“Don’t call me cute and clueless–”

“That’s what you were, though! Like the time when you got super drunk on your birthday and begged me not to leave–”

“I didn’t even like you back then!”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“I was in denial,” he furrows his brows theatrically, putting the empty glass bottle to the grass, “but I see that you had a lot of fun watching me suffer.”

“Fine, pretty boy,” you say, catching a glimpse of the boy momentarily shying away, presumably at the endearing nickname, his cheeks tinting pink even in the faint moonlight. “Would it make you feel better if I confessed first this time?”

“Huh?” the boy asks, lips parted, eyes a big, honest pool of honey.

Cute and clueless, you think.

The story comes full circle when you realize that this football field is perhaps what started it all. This is where you ran up to the new addition to the team, saying that your favorite number was on the back of his jersey. As the leader of the cheerleading team, you took it as your job to make every newbie feel welcomed– no matter if they were a fellow cheerleader or a football player. You didn’t expect for the boy to never stop wearing the number– although it was your favorite, it didn’t seem to be so important back then. (One day, you learned that Sunwoo kept the number on his jersey even after moving abroad. You read it in one of the sports magazines you foolishly flipped through in every kiosk you encountered and almost teared up in the busy store after.)

This field is where you watched him play football every week. It’s where you both practiced, sending each other funny faces after the coach was mean to either of you for not being focused on your training.

This is where Sunwoo found his passion– where he found his dream. This is the place that shifted the next couple of years of your life towards all sorts of directions. This is where he kissed you after winning a match, a gleeful confession slipping past his lips. This is where your relationship started, and metaphorically, also ended. The field that kept you apart is now a thousand miles away, but the one that brought you together is now right in front of you.

You guess it’s only right to use it for new beginnings.

“I think… I think I’m still in love with you, Sunwoo,” you start slowly, playing with your fingers in your lap, “well, I don’t know if my feelings for you ever ended… they could’ve, I mean, we were apart for so long… I just… all I know is that I don’t want us to be apart anymore, and I–”

Your words die on your tongue when the boy cuts you off with a kiss, the taste of apple cider mixing on your lips. The way he kisses you didn’t really change even after so many years, still swaying you with the familiarity of his loving. Still, even though you know the way he angles your jaw, the way he presses against you, the way he takes his sweet time, truly showing you how much he enjoys the act, you never grow tired of it. Something in you reacts the same way as when you were young. There’s still excitement, there’s still tender softness in your heart every time you kiss him.

His lips break apart from yours, a playful tint in his words when he speaks to you again. “Don’t try to take credit for it now,” he says, “because the last time I checked, we never really broke up in the first place, so you could say we were dating all along, all because I confessed back in–”

“God, you’re unbelievable,” you grunt.

“But you love me,” the boy says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is.

“Always have,” you say, pressing a quick peck to his plush lips, “always will.”

The starlight glazes your cheekbones when you rest your forehead against his, as if to send him a telepathic message that is worth more than a thousand words. It’s hard to find the words to explain the mixture of your emotions right now, but when your memory washes up the encouraging monologue Sunwoo offered to you when you first arrived, you finally agree with his sentiment. Perhaps, one word could summarize it all– you feel truly content.

They say you never forget about your first love. At 25 and still counting, you guess you could say that’s true.

#deoboyznet #sunwoo #the boyz #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo angst #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenario #the boyz imagine #sunwoo scenario #sunwoo imagine

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tasteracha · 6 months

Note

Be absolutely honest rn: who in skz is introducing "kink" vs whos waiting for you to bring it up

a/n: i knew i could trust you. MINORS DNI.

introducing kink.

han jisung. this boy is the kinkiest out of all of them. you can't convince me that he doesn't have a list on his phone or something with a bunch of kinks he wants to try out with you. they're itemized or in alphabetical order or something and he has you try out all of his freaky ideas every day, writing down what you liked and what you didn't so he knows what to do and what not to do in the future. also has a drawer full of kinky toys for the both of you to use.

seo changbin. he sees things online or while watching porn and he shows you sometimes in public because he has no shame and asks "can we try this tonight?" with his little pout and puffed out cheeks and dimples and you can't really say no, can you? is super careful about safety and your comfort though, even though he brings it up he makes sure that his first priority is your pleasure and enjoyment.

hwang hyunjin. he knows what he likes, he knows exactly what his preferences are and he knows what to do to drive you insane. has the best quality toys in his collection so he can tie you up and make you suffer in comfort. has absolutely no problem suggesting new things to you and doesn't get hurt or offended when you reject them or get wary of them because what works for him might not work for you! he just moves onto the next one.

waiting for you

bang chan. i know he's itching to choke you or to have you call him daddy or to hold you down into the bed so you can't move as he fucks into you - but he's waiting for you to bring things up because he doesn't want to pressure you. wants you to meet him halfway because he respects your wishes but man is this boy just constantly waiting in anticipation for you to say something.

yang jeongin. he really just goes with whatever, it's not that he's waiting for you but rather that he just. doesn't care? he'll do anything as long as he gets off and you're completely satisfied by the end of the night. if you ask him, he has his preferences for sure, but he is always ready to go along with whatever you bring up to him.

lee felix. this boy is kinky, okay. he's a little freak inside and he hides it so well under his sunshine exterior. he wants to try so many things, wants to ruin you and make you cry on his cock and wants you to make him cry, but the thing is - he is embarrassed. thinks that you'll find him weird even though you match him at every step, but you know what he likes because he really can't hide his reactions to you bringing up different kinks to him, his excitement is always written all over his face.

could go either way

lee minho. he just has this amazing versatility of being extremely bold and severely shy all at once. one day he could bring up the most fantastical idea, introducing things into the bedroom that you never thought were possible, and the next day he could be so bashful, asking you "well, what do you want to do?". you never know what to expect from him.

kim seungmin. look, i can't pin this little shit down. i can see him being a fiend and dropping hints at you of what he wants to do without telling you outright just to watch you struggle to come up with the right idea. i can also see him waiting for you to bring things up because he knows that you get embarrassed easily and that little display of power brings such a rush to his head. either way, he's completely in control of everything.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #lee know smut #lee felix smut #seungmin smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #hyunjin smut #jeongin smut #han jisung smut

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cheriewony · 2 months

Text

boo, you whore — huh yunjin

genre; smut, smut with plot

pairing; mean girl!yunjin x fem!reader

warnings; mean yunjin, degredation, size kink, strapon use, cunnilingus, face sitting, voyeurism, mentions of filming

note; this is a repost from my old blog (cheriejen) i honestly loved writing this request, want jen to call me a whore and rail me senseless ♡ - would you guys like a pt 2? i was thinking of doing a foursome with the plastics-

minors ++ men, dni

huh yunjin seemed to have spawned her wretched way into this world with a silver spoon in her mouth, wearing perilously tall jimmy choos and a matching pink birkin. this hadn't changed much in university. you had thought that after the horrid interactions the two of you had had back in high school, university was going to be a fresh start.

you couldn't have been more wrong.

whilst yunjin's friends-since-birth miyawaki sakura and kim chaewon were studying elsewhere, she had been able to make a new trio of plastics quickly enough. yu jimin had been connected to yunjin's hip since she had stepped onto campus. she was the life of the party- organising mixers, socials and parties like this very halloween one. jang wonyoung, a fashion major and the titled prettiest girl on campus, had been an obvious choice as the final piece in the highly-respected trio.

just like she had cornered you in the cafeteria in her short little tennis skirts in high school, here she was, in a short pink slip dress that was hardly covering her hot pink lingerie, her glittery lip gloss smudged from an intense makeout session she'd just had with the captain of the university football team. oh, and the bunny ears that had been propped onto her college-blonde hair, almost like an afterthought.

you had learnt that college halloween parties were an excuse to dress slutty the hard way- after showing up, fake blood, teeth and warts as frankenstein's wife to your first halloween party in your freshman year. today, you were wearing the same veil you had to your first party, instead paired with a white front-tie corset, the shortest skirt in your closet and a wash of dewy tint on your lips.

yunjin's lip curled into that smirk she always had in front of you. despite years of witnessing her lip curl in that manner, you still couldn't really understand what it meant. disgust? irritation? amusement?

"who would've thought a little suck up like you would be at one of my parties?"

you hesitated to correct her. this technically wasn't her party- after all, it had been karina who had thrown the party. your lips remained shut; any party huh yunjin actually showed up too soon became her party.

your hesitation was interrupted by yunjin's perfectly manicured hand fastening around your wrist. she ends up tugging you along with one hand, the other hand sneaking another small tray of filled red solo cups on it, continuing to weave neatly through the throngs of drunken young adults before pushing you into the bathroom, not even bothering to lock the door behind you two.

she can only smile over at your flushed face, how your lips had pursed into pants after clumsily rushing into the bathroom behind her. yunjin props herself onto the bathroom counter top, draining one of the solo cups in one, squealing aloud once she finished.

"actually grew yourself some tits, huh?" she questions, that cheshire-cat grin still tugging at her lips. she steps forward to tug the bow holding the from of your top together loose.

part of you instinctively shielded your now bare skin, cheeks stained red as yunjin chuckled over at you.

"no bra? what a slut."

your cheeks could only get warmer at her words as she pushed you to settle onto the bathroom counter, moving to stand between your legs, lifting your skirt up to get a view of the lacy pink panties you were wearing. she smirked at the sticky patch that was beginning to form between your legs.

"what a fucking whore."

the next view was something you never expected; huh yunjin, propped on her knees as she pushed your panties aside and began to lap at your dripping cunt, playboy bunny ears askew on her halo of blonde hair.

your were obsessed with her. anyone would be with how her tongue teased your clit, drawing long licks against your sweet pussy. all you could do was moan, tugging at wads of blonde hair to force you closer, only causing her to bite at your inner thighs.

"do you know how much that stylist cost me? don't you fucking dare."

so you don't, your hands fiddling with your tits instead, rubbing the nub of your nipple to make your eyes roll, tongue propped out of your mouth as yunjin continued to lap at your pretty pussy. as soon as your legs begin to roll alongside her licks, she pulls away, lips shining with your wetness.

"it's that easy to get you to cum? fucking slut, bet you've thought about this for so long? what a creep-"

she moves to the side, removing her own clothes, only revealing more perfect curves. she was venus and you were under her spell as she moved out of view to put something on. by the time she arrived back in front of you, you were salivating. the strap on was huge. and glittery pink. obvi.

you immediately drop to your knees, eager to lap and suck at the tip of the dildo but yunjin only scoffs in disgust.

"i don't want your foul mouth anywhere near this. lie down."

and you did. she forces you to lay down as she aligns the pink dildo with your entrance, lubing it down with your own wetness. she slowly pushes in, the two of your moans sync. her hands find purchase on your hips before moving faster, ignoring any of your whines or demands.

"listen here bitch. i make the rules here. all i want to hear from you are those dirty little moans-"

your eyes become glassy, almost doll-like as she does as she pleases, grunting almost animalistically as her thrusts get more incoherent and shaky, your gummy walls tightening around her.

"f-fuck- keep taking me, don't make me stop-"

your whines are pornographic at this point, making your own hips move alongside her thrusts, your thumb teasing your clit as you reach your high. as if a puppeteer had dropped your strings, you collapse onto yunjin, hands gripping past her tits to rest on her shoulders.

yunjin groans in disgust, pushing your weak frame flat onto the counter before taking out her phone, beginning to film your twitching self, your pussy still quivering around her pink cock. you try to cover your face, which clearly doesn't please yunjin one bit. she pulls out in frustration, and grabs her stuff before glaring at you.

"boo, you whore."

#♡ — lala's archive #huh yunjin #le sserafim instagram #lesserafim #le sserafim #yunjin #yunjin smut #yunjin le sserafim #yunjin huh #huh jennifer #jennifer huh #le sserafim smut #le serafim #le sserafim yunjin #girl group #girl group smut #kpop girl group #girl group x reader #girl group imagines

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lieutenantism · 2 months

Text

a very interesting (and endearing, at least to me) detail about jean's character is how he tends to fix himself during a confrontation. (long post ahead)

despite the fact he looks just fine, he does it to self-soothe more than anything, because he knows he has no control over the situation. so if he can't get through harry, at least he's in control of how he looks. and he can look BETTER, more put together than harry, so he makes sure to show him that. every time.

constantly readjusting, correcting, dusting himself off every time he's confronting his former partner because i think he has a severe inferiority complex (since harry outranks him and refuses to accept any promotion, which makes jean perpetually stuck as a satellite-officer, tied to a self-destructive man who's also good at what he does + harry has had a chance at a love that's so redeeming that he pictures her as the game's equivalent of God, a love that jean desperately yearns for so he hates harry for blowing it, and hates himself for never finding such a love despite the fact he's more put together than harry, or so he claims) that flares up every time harry's in the vicinity. i don't think jean has problems asserting himself when harry's not around, though. we've seen that here.

jean's perfectly capable of being authoritative, and has power over his colleagues, contrary to popular belief on this website. of course, provided harry's not there.

because he'll start slipping every time. his body language is also incredibly stiff, i'm assuming it's to seem like he's composed, but that falls apart when you notice how many times he struggles with his breathing, how many times he has to collect himself.

naturally, since kim also outranks him, jean behaves the same way with him although less emotional. he loses the spite, turns a little more submissive, though his pride doesn't completely disappear, like authority indicates. i also believe it's because kim didn't address him properly, therefore jean didn't feel the need to extend more than basic respect towards him.

it's very interesting to see, since he seems to have this ongoing inner conflict between his pride and his self-hatred. believing he's better than harry, yet crumbling at his presence. laying down and taking it, then suddenly revolting. being in control until the reason you're forced to take control shows up, then suddenly you're not in control anymore and you have to fix your hair and your tie and dust your suit and cough to look like you have your shit together. to prove that you're better. jean's trying to tell harry that he's BETTER than him! that's why he does all of that shit! he's terrified of ending up like that! he's even more terrified of the fact that despite being the mess he is, harry IS better than him! HELLO!

#lav thinks #he's so INTERESTING!!! i wish all jean discourse starters a very shut the fuck up #i've been seeing some shit takes abt him not having power over anyone/him never doing his job etc n it's sooooo tiring #like give it a rest idk play the game again w your eyes OPEN this time!#i love him he's so interesting.... sososo fascinating #jean vicquemare #disco elysium

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sweetwolfcupcake · 1 year

Text

The Taste of Deceit( Hyung line Part One)

Request

Yandere Masterlist

Warnings: Violence, Dark Characters with Darker Intentions. And the plot would only get darker from here. Disturbing imagery, allusions, blood.

Word Count: 14k+ (Yes, I lost myself in the flow)

(GIF credits to the owner. I do not own them)

Kindly excuse the typos and errors

*****

The night was young and the stars were restless.

The night was young and the club was booming.

The night was young…

yet it felt like the darkest hour when his eyes met hers.

(Y/N) worked as a bartender at an elite bar in the city- sort-after, high-end, but oddly lowkey. It was subtle, but an experienced pair of eyes would point out the oddities with ease.

As he sauntered towards her section, she busied herself with arranging the glasses and the mixers.

She had sworn to herself that she would stay out of trouble, and the broad-shouldered man with lips that seemed to be the carrier of kisses from paradise looked nothing less than trouble- big, deep trouble.

“What specials do we have tonight?”

(YN) almost flinched at his voice, but her actions remained smooth as ever as she arranged the glasses. She managed to put up a smile though

“Cosmopolitan, French 75 and Paloma.”

“Cosmopolitan with olives please.”

Even his voice was honey-like. But it held an unusual edge to it– some rare kind of honey- light but the right amount of sweet.

“I haven’t seen you before.”

He stated as a matter of fact.

“I joined a few months ago,” she replied

“I visited here last week.”

“I used to work the morning shift, it’s my first day in the evening shift.” she replied softly while handing him his drink.”

He smiled as he sipped from his drink but his eyes never left hers.

“Hope it’s not too overwhelming for you?”

“A little.” she admitted sheepishly “But my colleagues have been incredibly helpful, I think I will be settled soon.”

He hummed before finishing off his drink with a swig “I am Jin,” he offered his hand for a shake.

With a somewhat hesitant smile, she took it– his hold was firm but his hands felt warm and smooth, just like his eyes.

The night was young and the stars were restless.

The night was young and the club was booming.

The night was young, yet when he smiled,

it felt like slow electricity pulsing through the air

Jin– Kim Seokjin.

(Y/N) noted. The description that she was provided did no justice to what she was experiencing at the moment– his aura, his appearance, everything hit her at once.

The night was still young

And it was a long way ahead.

But officer (Y/N) (L/N) was determined.

“Liya. My name is Liya Grace.” she introduced herself.

The night was young

And she had taken the first step

—------------

Kim Seokjin was many things, Liya came to know that with her two years spent with him. He was a perfect gentleman, and he remembered exactly how many teaspoons of sugar she liked in her coffee and he oddly remembered the days that were otherwise insignificant to Officer (Y/N)- the person behind the mask of sweet and charming Liya Grace.

Little things mattered to Kim Seokjin, (Y/N) had realised– when Liya would cook dinner for him and wait up to reheat it even if her eyes would be droopy. When she would remember what tie he liked on certain days. When she would help him with fixing his tie and cuff links. Or when she would bring him his coffee to his home office every two hours.

One might misunderstand those as his expectation at first glance, but no– he never expected or assumed that he was not of the kind.

But the little gestures of care and devotion made him happy. It assured him that his partner was just as devoted to him as he was.

And was he a sincere lover– to the extent that (Y/N) felt a prick of guilt every time she replied to his soft, quiet declarations of love.

Jin was a lover straight out of a woman’s daydreams.

One would never believe how the hands that touched her so delicately were the ones that pushed his enemies to their dooms.

But (Y/N) knew. She knew because she had witnessed him strangle men twice his size with ease– it was like buying bread to him- mundane business.

His eyes would be chillingly nonchalant and they were the windows for the sinister beast in him to peek through.

But only (Y/N) knew of this side of him– undercover officer (L/N)(Y/N) who was quick and quiet and never even breathed loud but took all the pictures right, and never forgot to set bugs in his office. Officer (Y/N) was subtle and clever, after all.

Liya Grace, however, was naive and oblivious, believing in whatever her beloved boyfriend fed her. He owned chains of hotels, exclusive nightclubs and restaurants. What was odd with that? Some red wine sprinkled on his white shirt? Happens! Why would not she believe him?

That was not technically a lie. Jin did own all of them. But they were the surface, the strong shields protecting his underground illegal weapon dealings– his real business.

It would have been so easy to fool any ordinary civilian, but (Y/N) was no ordinary civilian.

“You’re late. Again.”

“I’m sorry Jagi, you know well that I am– it’s those old investors, always looking for loopholes in my projects.”

Potential buyers

(Y/N) corrected him mentally as she scoffed and turned away pretending to be upset

“Liya–love, you can’t be angry at me now, it's only–uh– a bit late…” he trailed off as he glanced at his limited edition watch.

“It’s two in the morning Jin.” she huffed while reheating his dinner

“Hmm, pretty late, but you are still awake sweetheart.”

“Yes”

Just getting some confidential documents.

“I wanted to talk.”

“Everything alright Jagi?” he sounded concerned but her smile soothed his frown

“Just considering visiting my parents. Haven’t seen them in a while.”

“Why? I mean is everything okay there?”

“Oh no, I just miss them.”

There was another thing (Y/N) had noticed about Kim Seokjin. He liked to keep her for himself.

He was a possessive man, more so emotionally than physically. It was normal for lovers to be possessive, but his sense of possession extended a bit too far.

And it made (Y/N) squirm sometimes– she could swear it was just her being uncomfortable, but deep down, she knew that there was a sinister edge to his love and it made an eerie anticipation bloom in her heart.

“Why not we go to meet them this weekend? You can finally introduce me to them then?”

“Oh Jin, no need of that, you already have a tight schedule.”

There was no way that she could let all her hard work go down the drain.

“But Liya, I have to meet them someday.”

“Sure Jin, I want you to meet them too, but I want to see how they would take the news of me already living with my boyfriend– they have always been a bit protective of me and I want things to go smoothly so bad...Let me set the ground first. Hm?”

She managed to muster up her best puppy eyes and Jin finally relented and nodded with a sigh. He was in a hurry to put a ring on her finger, so eager in fact that she already had a promise ring occupying her finger.

“When do you plan to go then?”

“Tomorrow?”

Jin smiled and nodded “Just don’t stay away from me long, okay?”

—------

“Liya! I have cooked your favourites.”

Her father greeted her on the porch as soon as she arrived.

“Dad I missed you!”

Her father smiled and pulled her in for a hug.

“You have the pigeon feed?” he whispered into her ears without a single muscle faltering.

She hummed, still smiling.

There could be no chance taken. It was Kim Seokjin after all, and underestimating him would be foolishness. The department knew that Kim Seokjin had eyes everywhere and one slip-up could cost them not only all their hard work but also their lives.

“Hurry up, your Mom is setting the table.” he ushered her in as they played the perfect father and daughter for the hidden hawks.

—----

“Here.” (Y/N) handed them a Pendrive. It was the one that contained recordings of his office, some pictures of classified documents and some codes

“Excellent Officer.” her ‘mother’ hummed as she examined the item.

“Now that the pigeons will be feeding, let us have dinner too.” her ‘father’ quipped in– finally at ease now that the documents were in their hands.

—------

(Y/N) had excused herself back to her room. It was cosy yet oddly familiar– detailed to perfection. A typical room that screamed ‘I spent my teenage years here’. (Y/N) felt exhausted. Not only because she had been putting up a facade for so long but also because the ring on her finger sat heavily– mocking her as it gleamed under the nightlight. But most of all, it was the booming questions in her mind, screaming at her for answers.

She dug into her purse to retrieve a Pendrive. Another Pendrive that held the most crucial information, the deepest vulnerabilities in Kim Jin’s empire, in his security system. The Pendrive contained information that could easily lead to his encounter– no more pieces of evidence required.

She gulped, fiddling with the tiny device. She had always known what she wanted, what she was doing. But not this time.

What was she doing?

Why couldn’t she—why did not she submit the most important Pendrive to her superiors?

It would take them no time to bring Kim Seokjin and his empire of illegal weapons into ashes and yet….

“What’s wrong with me?” she huffed out breathlessly.

Finding no convincing answer, she settled for going to bed. Maybe a bit of rest would do? She had been pretending for so long, acting as the perfect, oblivious little girlfriend to a man so subtly dark, it had taken a toll on her mentally and emotionally.

—----

Drip

Drip drip drip dripdripdripdripdrip

Gurgrlegurlegurlegurglegurglegurgurgurgle—

“Huh?”

It was disorienting to wake up to the sound of an open tap. Without much thought, she stepped into the bathroom, cringing at the wet sensation. It was tap left open and the basin was overflowing. Turning the tap off, she waited for the water to settle down.

The drain was blocked.

She did not remember blocking it. She had not even stepped into the bathroom.

She pulled out the lid, unlocking the drain as thoughts began to flood in. It was an in-built instinct within her. She never dismissed anything that even felt remotely off.

And at the moment she felt like something was very, very strange.

The sound of splashing and gurgling of water felt louder than it actually was. The silence was no longer blank, or even remotely cosy. It was instead eerie.

Something just did not feel right.

Rushing to the closet, she searched for any weapons that they have provided her in the room. She let go of the breath that she had been holding as she felt a gun kept between a bundle of empty boxes.

Fishing it out, she checked if it was loaded before pocketing the pen drive and slipping out of the room as quietly as possible. It was two o'clock in the morning, and while the silence was expected, this silence felt like holding one’s breath– it was filled with anticipation.

Making her way down the carpeted stair, she remained glued to the wall while her finger wrapped around the trigger. She gulped silently as her foot reached the bottom of the stairs. The door seemed locked, the kitchen was empty—

The backdoor!

Carefully gliding around along the walls, she reached the bedroom near the backdoor. The safety of her colleagues mattered the most to her at the moment.

Much to her relief, she saw them asleep on the bed. Noislesslyy shutting the door, she made her way to the backdoor. It appeared perfectly—

No.

It was unlocked.

One twist of the doorknob gave away the fragility of their safety. Her ears tried to pick up any noise behind or around her while her eyes searched for her other colleagues roaming around in disguise. The house, past the lawn, was supposed to be occupied by her colleagues too. She quickly searched for the torchlight she knew was kept there. Gripping it with a tinge of desperation, she blinked it at the house window.

No response.

She tried again. They were supposed to have their eyes on this house for the whole damn night!

No response.

Feeling the panic beginning to build, she took a deep breath in and out. She had been spying on one of the country's biggest underworld figures, there had been people she had taken care of before.

Everything would be under control.

She tried to soothe herself as she made her way back to the bedroom, leaving the door unlocked. If something went wrong, the backdoor would be their safe exit.

As soon as she stepped into the bedroom, she reached out for them, fingers almost twitching to shoot anyone other than her colleagues.

“Sir, wake up.” she whispered as quietly as possible. Not getting a response, she tapped on his covers “Sir, Ma’am please—”

She felt cold at the sensation of the warmth she was familiar with–--warm and wet. Her throat closed up as she felt around the covers. It was all damp and warm inside but her colleagues were still and cold.

She yanked her hand out with a shaky gasp, only to be further horrid at the sight of her tainted hands in the darkness of the room— she could see it clearly–even under the street light.

There was a faint noise of something shifting that had her pointing her gun at the darkest corner of the room. Her heart thumped in fear and anticipation as she pointed her gun at the darkness.

It was at that moment when her anticipation came to a heavy halt— Jin stepped out of the dark corner, taking up the space near the window instead. The streetlight and moon rays falling on his form gave him an eerie illumination.

“Why wait now?… Here I am. Pull the trigger.”

His inaction was far more chilling than his acts of violence. He was just standing still– and nonchalant and yet, the darkness in his eyes was far deeper than the dark corner he emerged from.

“Is it not what you were sent for, after all?” he drawled, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Now you even have a reason.”

his eyes flickered to the bed momentarily before settling back on her as he tilted his head slightly

“What’s the matter Officer (Y/N)(L/N), pull the trigger.” the amusement was clear in his tone.

She would not pull the trigger, even if it was the right thing to do, she would never do that.

And Kim Seokjin had realised it before her.

She hid away the pen drive, her hands shook as she pointed her gun at him and her fingers froze at the mere thought of shooting him.

She shook her head, trying to push back her tears as the realisation began to dawn upon her, like a nightmare merging into reality.

“E-even if I tell you why, you would not believe me.” she breathed out.

It was pathetic. How would he believe her if she told him that she had just realised that she was in love with him? For real.

Why would he believe that even?

The corner of Jin’s lips lifted up slightly at her words.

“Oh Jagi, I know you inside out…” he trailed away as he sauntered towards her.

His movements reminded her of the first time she had met him. Two years ago.

Today was the day– the day they first met.

She stepped back, half in shock, half in caution, her hands lowered far before she had realised.

“Why did you keep the other pen drive to yourself? You had two of them.”

He knew, he always knew.

“How long?”

Jin’s lips tugged up with smugness.

“The moment our eyes met I knew that you did not belong there.”

She took in a sharp breath.

“Assuming that I had never known of you– confidence.” he continued to take predatory steps towards her.

She truly felt like a cornered prey– so small and helpless. His towering form seemed to have engulfed the whole room- and he, her whole existence. She flinched internally when her back touched the wall.

“But assuming that my sources would never know about you– overconfidence.” he smiled as he reached her. The kind of smile that made her feel cold

There was no way out.

“If you plan to kill me, just get over with it now.” the words felt foreign on her tongue, but she meant them.

“Oh Jagi…” he drawled as if sharpening his sword “ I only intend to teach you a sweet, sweet lesson…I do love you after all.” she forced down a whimper as he leaned closer to her, his lips touching her earlobes

“After all, you love me too, and you shall scream that to the world tonight”

****

Min Yoongi was many things.

He was subtle, he was lowkey, and yet he was powerful, he bathed in money and influence and guess what– he was a well-known face on the top magazines, billboards and newspapers.

He was one of the leading industrialists after all.

To the world.

Behind closed doors ran the chaos and spills of the underworld– white power, red ink and sharp edges.

Min Yoongi was many things, but he was not always very patient– especially during crucial interrogations. His business was vast and deep. And to run such a vast business empire– one he had built himself, he needed money– a flood of it.

People looked up to him as an inspirational figure– the ideal rags-to-riches man. But to build such an empire by the age of thirty-two, one needed something extra, and Yoongi had nothing– nothing other than a hawk’s eyes and a razor mind. So he used them instead and created a whole ring of underground business. The profit in the market required heavy investments and it came not only from big investors, it was pumped from the underground.

Who would suspect that the man making gaping charities, arranging free scholarships and educating millions of children would be the one running a whole underground business?

The police, who else?

It was an open secret among the top officers. They knew what went on behind closed doors and dark basements in his posh offices and luxurious hotels. Too bad, Min Yoongi was always ten steps ahead.

It had turned into a cat-and-mouse game, they would hunt for evidence, a loophole and Yoongi would hunt for the one digging those holes.

The man’s head was pulled out of the cold water. He coughed and wheezed, struggling to breathe through the remaining water dripping down along with blood.

Yoongi sighed. Twenty minutes– twenty fucking minutes and no information regarding the infiltrator. Though it was no new thing, it was a matter of increasing concern because he had not been able to get hold of the mouse yet.

The man being interrogated was one too, but Yoongi knew that he was not the spy he should be concerned with.

“Here’s how this is going to be young man…” he began with a cigarette clasped between his lips. He paused briefly to light it up. “You tell me who has been collecting information about my organisation and I give you an easy death.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicked up, finding the dilated pupils of the man, blood and saliva running down his busted lips. He spat out two of his bloody teeth into the water and coughed. He gasped again as one of Yoongi’s men took hold of his hair, ready to dunk his head into the murky water again.

Yoongi rose his palm this time, halting his men’s actions. Pulling the cigarette away, he blew out smoke into the air, momentarily blurring his face “Let me rephrase it..If you do not reveal your partner, I will make sure that you continue to breathe.”

Nearing him, Yoongi leaned closer, whispering in his ear

“Besides, your sister would make up for the loss of our money for our clients. Now, that would be perfect, don’t you think?”

Yoongi smirked as the man clenched his jaw and shuddered. He gripped his shoulder and squeezed the bruise hard, making the man scream.

“Think about it, hero– your charity might cost you your sister’s life. She just entered college, didn’t she? Tsk tch tch, she must have so many dreams…” he threatened with a voice dripping with mock concern while his eyes held a promise of acting through his words.

The man shut his eyes, gritting his teeth before looking dead into Yoongi’s eyes

“Raven”

Was all he said before pushing out a tiny bottle from his tied hands, it had been there between his palms. It happened within the span of seconds, one moment the man was there, and the next, he shoved the bottle in his mouth before dropping dead.

Cyanide.

“Where were your eyes?” Yoongi gritted out as he looked at his men with fury “Where.the.fuck were you looking when he had this in his fucking palms?”

His men trembled but said nothing, only hanging their heads in shame. Min Yoongi with raised voice was a threat, but he with a cold, low voice with gritting teeth was a warning that barely stood between one’s life and his gun.

Surely, the police officer's body was not the only one which would be laying there.

But to their utter surprise, their boss’ fingers, instead of going for his gun, went to his head, running through his long hair.

He took a few puffs from his cigarette before dropping it on the wet floor and viciously crushing it with his heavy shoes.

He sighed, closing his eyes, the thin cut running through his face could be seen in its complete glory with his eyes closed– it began from his forehead and sliced straight through his left eyebrow, and eyelid, ending on his upper cheek, parallel to his nose. It was faded but only added to the grim aura he carried.

“Find out who is Raven. And don’t be lousy fucky this time.”

That was all he said before marching out of the place.

Min Yoongi was many things but he was not a man to step back from his words, even if it was something he had promised himself.

No blood on his hands on her birthday.

—---

The front light of the shop flickered before dimming considerably while Yoongi’s car pulled up in front of the flower shop. It was decent, but in Yoongi’s mind, needed a ton of renovation. It was already past midnight and his only regret was that he could not be there to wish her on the strike of twelve.

The door sign showed ‘closed’ but he rang the bell anyway, his heart thumping on hearing the muffled sound of her ascending the stairs.

His lips curved into a smile as soon as the door opened.

“You came? I thought you were busy.”

“And I thought I told you to wait for me at my place. Yet I find you here, sleeping with just a single lock at the main door.” he commented as he walked inside.

The flower shop was on the ground floor, and the floor above was where she lived. It would seem odd, special in a way– a business tycoon and a florist. But it would turn bizarre at the revelation of his true identity. A man marred with the underground murk and a sweet florist, oblivious to the monster she was letting in almost every night at her home.

“I baked some cookies.”

“Mhm? I got you some fried chicken with cheese and beer.” her eyes lit up at that and she smiled, raining heavens on his heart.

“Oh, Yoongi, you always know what I want!”

Her voice dripped with delight as she made her way upstairs, while he locked the door, making eye contact with his men stationed just opposite the flower shop, under the guise of some construction workers.

He sighed in delight as her delicate floral fragrance engulfed him while he followed her upstairs.

“Wait for me in the bedroom, I will bring the food. And–what is this? A cake? You even brought me a cake? Oh Yoongi, you did not need to.”

He shook his head and smiled, taking her hands into his.

“But I wanted to.”

His hand slid to her lower back and the other hand guided her hand to his shoulder as they began to slow dance in the kitchen, the food long forgotten at the kitchen counter.

Fishing out his phone, he clicked to play a retro romantic track– slow, lovely and oh-so poetic. He smiled at her, stealing a fleeting kiss on her forehead as they continued to move, like a slow-burning flame that would ignite one’s soul.

“Happy Birthday my love.” he whispered ever so tenderly as she looked up with glistening eyes.

She tucked her head on his chest, relishing the moment in silence.

—----

One of the best leisure activities had to be sitting on the bed and enjoying one’s favourite meal along with one’s favourite person, Yoongi realised that while placing another piece of fried chicken on her plate. She smiled at him, a smudge of ketchup on her lower lip and it made her all the more adorable to her. All he wanted was to protect her, love her and be loved by her.

He scrunched his nose lightly while wiping the ketchup with his thumb while she munched on the chicken with stuffed cheeks.

Min Yoongi was in love with her, he knew it, she knew it too and he hoped that she would trust him too, enough to believe in his love through thick and thin.

“Gina…” he began as he took her hands in his, not minding the crumbles and oil “Do you trust me?”

She blinked “Yoongi, where is this coming from?”

“Just tell me, do you trust me to never hurt you? To love and protect you with my life?”

She frowned before nodding, but that was not enough for him.

“I need words Gina, do you trust me, love?”

“Yes Yoongi…” her voice shook but there was a crack of uncertainty.

He would admit that it did hurt him, but he also knew that this was nothing beyond normal human behaviour– blind trust was a luxury and he would taste that luxury soon, he only had to be patient. He knew that her trust would falter with his next words, but he needed to do what was required.

Taking a deep breath, he grasped her hands firmer “Gina…I love you, and I did not wish to lose you…so I hid something from you, but now I must come clean for the sake of our love.” licking his lips, he continued “Gina, you know me as the world does, a philanthropist business tycoon, one with multiple companies under his banner, international projects, the rags-to-riches guy and what not…But the truth is beyond that, darker than that.”

Her frown deepened at that “What do you mean?”

Yoongi sighed and continued “I have an underworld business, Gina, I have my hands dipped in everything murky you can possibly imagine.”

He felt her stiffening at his words and as she attempted to pull away from his hold, his fear began to take the shape of reality. With each attempt to pull her hands away, his hold coiled tighter like a hungry snake. His jaws ticked at her futile attempts

“You promised to trust me, didn’t you?” his hand crept to her forearm

“Y-Yoongi…”

“I love you, I love you so much Gina, don’t try to take that away from me.” hissed, turning desperate “I love you too much to let you go. I have everything prepared for you love, you will love the mansion, it has a vast garden and even a patch of woods, there are flowers, beautiful flowers, and the room I have prepared for you is your dream room, Love. We shall move to our room soon after the wedding.”

“Wedding?” she whispered out incredulously as if it were the most bizarre thing to hear from him.

“Of course Jagi, are we not going to marry soon? I love you Gina and I thought this would be a perfect time to come out clean. I want to keep you safe love, pack up hmm? I have had the mansion all readied.”

“No” she whispered, making Yoongi pause

“No?”

He scowled, tightening his hold to a painful extent before jerking her closer to him, ignoring the whimper his actions and eyes had elicited.

“What do you mean by No?” he snarled before closing his eyes and looking away– his tongue pushed against the inner wall of his cheek to show his thinning patience as he remained unfazed by her struggle to slip away from his bruising hold. “Gina…I told you that I love you, didn’t I? I came clean to you like a good lover. Isn’t it your turn to show appreciation and fucking listen to me? You are so fucking unsafe here I cannot protect—”

He was cut off by the sound of a click that tore through the otherwise heavy silence like an arrow in a dead forest

He looked at her, hold loosening before she mouthed--

RUN!

But there was no time for that other than reaching for his gun strapped on his shin but the moment his fingers touched the gun, he felt the piecing of a bullet. Chaos ensued as a figure in black jumped down from the attic, opening the foldable ladder that dropped from the ceiling, and reaching the bed.

Yoongi felt hands forcing him down before he elbowed the assaulter. His palm was already suffering a bullet wound but his eyes never left her– his Gina, or that was the name she had used. She shook her head, tears now streaming down in full force.

“Min Yoong, you are under arrest!”

How were there so many men in the room? Boots rang across the floor as many men in uniform stormed the room, forcing him down further. But his eyes remained on the woman sitting in front of him, nursing her bruising wrist yet looking down at him with the sorrow only a true lover could.

Her eyes widened as he smiled at her– a genuine smile that came from the realisation that she did warn him to run, that she had pain in her eyes.

“What’s your name?” he whispered softly making her her eyes widen. “Your name…”

“Oi! You are under arrest for being involved in illegal business, you just confessed that!”

One of the officers spat out as he snatched away the necklace she wore roughly, making her wince and Yoongi's jaws tick.

“We have it all recorded you scum!”

He waved it in front of him before landing a heavy punch, making Yoongi’s head whip to the side, a bruise already forming while blood trickled down the corner of his lips.

But he did not care, finding her frightened eyes once more as her hand jerked to reach him, only to be stopped midway by the officer “What��s your name?” he asked again

“Get her out of here.” the senior officer barked before the subordinate approached, his actions and tone much gentler than his superior as he helped her get up from the bed.

But before went out, she turned to him one last time, eyes filled with emotions, while Yoongi focused on pushing his heel against the sole of his shoe– one press of the sensor and his team would be ready. He smiled at her as she disappeared from his sight.

Soon, Love…Very Soon.

—-----

The journey to the police station involved being shoved into a heavily guarded van with too many armed men.

Twenty men for one person? Even with a bullet wound?

He liked the fear.

His eyes met with one of the amateur officers, young, naive and so fucking idealistic perhaps– a version of his in his early teens. Yoongi smirked as he watched him gulp subtly.

Good.

As soon as they reached the police station at an ungodly hour, he was shoved into an overly guarded prison, the captain watched him from outside as one would while inspecting a feral animal.

The middle-aged man held his gaze as Yoongi made himself comfortable behind the bars, sitting on the bed near the wall, his form faintly visible in the darkness.

The captain held his phone to his ear before speaking up, breaking the tense silence that felt like a bated breath

“Mission Raven Completed,”

He whispered out, his eyes holding Yoongi’s gaze in mockery as he cut the call and slipped his phone into his pocket

“Your game is over Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi sat still, his feline eyes shining with amusement under the minimal light reaching his prison.

“What? Aren’t you scared? The whole world will come to know your true face in a few hours!” he snarled at him.

Yoongi knew that he had made many, many enemies along his climb to the top of the underworld rings. And this captain seemed to take things a bit too personally. But what did he know of the ‘games’ he played?

“ Captain Jiwok…” he watched in satisfaction as the smirk was wiped out from the man’s face “My game has just begun.”

Before the man could speak any further, a deafening boom shook the whole building as rubble began to fall, he watched the building burst into bedlam, throwing his back into laughter while his eyes twinkled in delight.

****

A sunny day, the bright colours of the summer and the gentle breeze playing with the new, tender leaves and the playful petals of brightest and softest blooms.

It would make anyone smile. But not the mistress of the Jung Estate–(L/N)(Y/N), who could only resentfully look on as the servants, maids, dogs, cats, butterflies and even insects enjoyed their freedom of embracing the outside world– all but her.

The sprawling estate encompassed a vast garden with water channels running around in symbols, hosting a range of koi fish, one more stunning than the other and a number of servant quarters that housed the staff.

The place would look idyllic to anyone who would first set their eyes on it. But underneath the beautiful estate, laid metal doors, bloody walls and unending, dark body chutes. One might find that shocking, but not (Y/N) – to her, the Jung Estate was an extension of the master of the property– Jung Hoseok– an angel’s face and a devil’s soul. But (Y/N) doubted that he had any soul at all.

Taking her eyes off the garden, she focused on the elaborate lunch spread out for her. At least she had a choice of food, she thought with contempt as the maid served her more rice.

“Would you like dessert after lunch Ma’am?” Lia, her personal maid enquired.

“No thank you.”

“They’re all your favourite Madame.” she pressed ever so gently.

Sighing, (Y/N) nodded. Dessert might do her soured mood some good.

“I will bring them right after you are finished, Madame.” Lia beamed

(Y/N)’s lips tugged up subtly with an amused smile as she continued to eat her lunch. Hoseok, her husband always told her how much he loved her smile. And yet, he had turned the reason behind its decline.

Jung Hoseok was probably the most feared man in the country and she had made the foolish mistake of walking right into the lion’s den one sorry evening.

—-----

“Madame, sweet buns along with mini butter croissants.”

(Y/N) had smelled the delicious aroma before the oven-fresh delicacies came within her sight. After all, something to truly smile about, without making her cheeks ache.

“You should have your lunch, Lia.” she offered softly, aching to be left alone, truly alone, without his people following her like some…fucking guard dogs!

Lia, the dedicated girl was obviously not at fault– she was just doing what she was paid so heftily for– taking care of the mistress of the Jung Estate.

The Mistress of Jung Estate…Ironical, really, when she could not even step out of the iron castle without his consent. And if he were to go out of the city, even the garden was out of her reach. Even his pet had more freedom than her.

And yet…

And yet he would claim to love her the most, adore her more than anything and appreciate even the most mundane thing she would do.

Huffing as such thoughts crossed her path, she violently tore the delicate croissant into two before—

Croissants were not supposed to make any tearing sounds! Or were they?

This time, she looked closer, only to two torn pieces of the same paper peeking out of the halves of the delicacy. (Y/N) frowned as she pulled the pieces of paper out before joining them. Only to part her lips in surprise at the sight of the message written there.

A phone number!

She crumpled the pieces of paper, hiding them away in her fist before carefully peeling apart another croissant– the same number!

This had to mean something, this could not be a coincidence.

Her stomach flipped as she gulped an uncomfortable lump in her throat.

What is this?

The question rang louder than all other thoughts in her head as she delicately folded the paper and walked up to the closet before hiding the paper in one of her shoes.

Thankfully, there were only two such croissants and the rest had only warmth and aroma stuffed inside them, so were the sweet buns, simple and delicious. The incident felt more like a dream but (Y/N) knew that it was not.

—--

“Who prepared the dessert today?” (Y/N) prayed that she sounded absolutely nonchalant as she fiddled with her food, pretending to mix the sauce with the rice.

Sitting on the terrace, she could have a wide view of the spread-out property– all lit up and quiet, except for nature’s sounds.

“Oh, did you not like it Ma’am?” it was the butler serving her this time– breakfasts and dinners were his responsibility and she had no clue why this was a rigid routine.

“No, it was delicious, that’s why I asked…”

“I am glad Madame, Lia herself prepared the dessert.”

(Y/N) kept her eyes down, afraid that her eyes would give away the surprise. Somehow, she managed a mundane “Oh, I see.” but all she did was restrain herself from frowning.

She did not even remember when she fell asleep, in his absence, sleep seemed to come easy and deep. But this time, somehow she woke up with a start in the middle of the night. It was quiet but tense and while she was alert as soon as she woke up without the usual grogginess she would feel, the goosebumps all over her skin told her that something was just not right.

Squinting her eyes, she tried to adjust her eyes to the darkness when she spotted–

“Lia?” she hissed, annoyed that the girl was there inside her bedroom and had given her a nightmare-worthy scare.

“Lia, is that you?” she felt her parched throat before recognising her rising fear— what if it was not Lia but one of Hoseok’s rivals? What if the person wanted to hurt her? The silhouette matched that of her personal maid but she had not seen the person’s face yet and—

To her slight relief, Lia revealed herself as she stepped near the bed “Madame, you are awake at this time?”

What kind of question was that?

“What are you doing in my room at two in the morning?”

Lia only smiled at her counter-question, but there was something condescending about it.

“Don’t you feel better? More refreshed than mornings?”

“Wh-what? What kind of question—”

“I assume you’ve got the number and are smart enough to hide it in a safe place?” she cut her off,

(Y/N) gulped, feeling increasingly uneasy with the situation. She was alone, vulnerable in her room with her supposedly personal maid who seemed…just off.

Lia sighed and tilted her head “Don’t worry, I'm not here to hurt you. In fact, I can help you.”

“Help me?” she could feel her voice crumble at her words.

Help her as in helping her get out of the place? But who would dare to?

“No, woman, I am not a rival’s spy or something if you are worried about that. I work for the government.”

(Y/N) gasped quietly at that. Why would the government of the nation take the pains of infiltrating Hoseok’s home to rescue a simple girl? She gulped again, feeling her mouth grow increasingly dry.

“Don’t,” Lia’s voice was quiet but strong, halting (Y/N)’s movement immediately as she reached out for the water bottle placed on the nightstand.

“I was just feeling thirsty?” she could not help but feel fear beginning to grip her in the face of the uncertain situation.

“You can drink that once we’re finished with the conversation woman. You drink that right now, you will fall asleep again.”

“What?” (Y/N) frowned while Lia rolled her eyes with a slow shake of her head

“You are such a naive girl, no wonder you are still stuck here.”

She sighed before explaining

“Don’t you feel weird? It is only the butler who serves you breakfast and dinner, prepared by him in the boss’ absence? Don’t you wonder why you feel so sleepy, even after breakfast? You sleep until noon and yet feel tired after dinner”

“So…” (Y/N) gulped, feeling her stomach beginning to flip “So, y-you are saying that the food, the water is compromised?”

“‘Compromised’? Don’t soften this up now, you know what it is, just acknowledge it.”

“He–he won’t–I mean he couldn’t have—”

Lia smiled again, the same condescending smile that rubbed the ugly fact on her face and made her stomach churn.

“You are saying that—that the food and water I consume are…drugged?”

She knew that Hoseok’s ‘love’ was toxic, but this was straight out of some nightmare-inducing psychological thriller. She let out a shuddering breath as the horrible realisation dawned upon her. It was sick, absolutely sick.

“You see, morning and night are the only times when guards change shifts and take breaks, he could not take any chances. You are after all his most treasured possession.”

She drawled, and her words slapped the bleak reality of her marriage right on her face. Was it even a marriage? She felt like a prisoner before, now she was reduced to a precious little pet.

Weren’t you always his fucking pet?

Her subconscious mocked her as she felt tears beginning to gather.

“It took me a while to figure out what was he giving you, but today I managed to slip an antidote in your dinner. How does it feel to wake up refreshed?”

When she did not answer, Lia threw something beside her, making her flinch

“In case you realise how deep you are in. All you need is to call.”

(Y/N)’s eyes remind of the buttoned cell phone, she did not even hear Lia leaving– she left as quietly as she came.

But she left behind a storm brewing in (Y/N)’s mind.

—-------

Despite knowing the consequences, (Y/N) tucked the phone away in some safe corner and drank the water, she was absolutely parched. Everything was too much to take. She knew that Hoseok was no saint, but this made her sick to her stomach. She feared Hoseok but now…now she was terrified of him.

The sky rumbled before her eyes found the window gigantic window of the place– big droplets of rain had begun to dot the glass. From that height, the sky seemed nearer, yet all the more distant– it was just a better, clearer sight, especially when one could leisurely watch the thunderstorm up close– clouds flashing, clashing and the skies illuminating with blinding cracks.

No one seemed to notice, or care, but her. It felt like it was only her– just like her four years old relationship– it was only her there. She was the one making the effort, she was always the one apologising, she was the one making her plans, her schedule flexible, initiating dates and she was the only fucking person in a relationship involving two.

And it took her a whole bad fight and a slap on the face to realise that. It was the worst fight the two had, and also perhaps the third major one in a span of four fucking years– so used to ‘sweeping things under the rug’ and ‘keeping the peace’, she had was, for once glad to let it all out– the bottled disappointments, suppressed anger, resentment, frustration hurt, envy, jealousy– every ugly emotion one could come up with when they had to carry the weight of a dying relationship and when she was spitting the facts on his face, he retorted with a slap that shook everything– the relationship, her perspective, her beliefs— everything shuddered and began to crumble with nothing.

Noted, she had pulled his parents’ failed marriage in a fit of rage but reacting with violence? Was it ever okay?

Thankfully, she knew the answer. She did not even remember how she simply picked up her phone and wallet in dead silence after he stormed out of the house in tears. She had her vision blurred with unshed tears as well, but she did not let them escape her eyes, at least not until she drove back to her apartment. She had seen her first-ever serious relationship crumbling into nothing and she had no clue how to deal with that.

After days of crying herself to sleep and being on autopilot, her friends decided to intervene and drag her away to the fancy event. She had blocked him from everywhere but she was not sure if he even tried to contact her. Even in the glittering and gilded place, she could not stop thinking about him and the relationship she had dragged on for such a long time, but not romantically. She could not bring herself to do that after what had transpired that evening.

“Ma’am, a drink for you.”

(Y/N) frowned as the bartender slid a fancy-looking shimmery drink in front of her. While her friends were busy chitchatting and flirting with people they knew, she had excused herself to the quieter part of the gigantic hall, a bar. But she had not ordered anything yet.

“But I did not order anything.”

“The gentleman bought you this.”

Not all drinks were free and the drink definitely looked like it had soaked up a fortune. Her eyes followed the bartender’s gaze and found a man she had never seen before leaning against the other end of the long island.

He looked sleek and mysterious and every last thing she wanted at the moment. While he smoked and raised an eyebrow, she smiled apologetically before shaking her head before getting off the barstool and making her way back to her friends.

She did not know what she needed at the moment, but she did know what she did not need.

As the event dragged on (Y/N) had begun to feel more uninterested. Maybe such high-class parties were more suited for her millionaire friend who had thrust the invitation card in her face. (Y/N) knew that all she wanted was to make her feel better but the event was quickly turning her eyes droopy.

Bidding her friend goodbye with an excuse, she sighed in relief the moment she walked out of the hall, as the door closed, she was greeted with a silent hallway leading to the exit of the building.

“Hello there” the voice made her jump as she turned around, only to find the same man just a foot behind her.

“Oh, didn’t see you there.” she mustered up an easy smile as her feet remained in the direction of the exit.

The man hummed and assessed her with a ghost of a smile on his face, the tilt of his head had a few strands falling on his exposed forehead. He was an attractive man, no doubt, but she was just not interested. He seemed well above twenty-five, even past thirty perhaps.

“Did you not like the drink, Pretty?” she cringed internally at the nickname.

“I am in a hurry actually, thank you for the drink by the way.”

His lips tilted into an amused smile “Let me have the honours to drop you home, pretty.”

“I have my car.”

She had come with her friends and she had no car, but a cab would always be nearby in a posh locality.

“Oh yeah? Let me walk you to your car then.”

She tried to rack her brain for some excuse but the glint in his eyes confirmed her fears, he knew that she had no vehicle to return home and he was taking advantage of her situation. Even if he only intended to flirt, he was making her easy.

“There you are!” the loud and buoyant voice startled her.

The man cornering her turned around, giving her a view of another man approaching them.

“And there I was, searching for you in that hall!” the new man beamed with a blinding smile before turning to him “Hi Juk, you’re here too.”

“Mr Jung, I did not that she is—”

“She came with me.” he declared, finding her gaze briefly before flickering back to…Juk– or whatever his name was.

She understood what he was trying to do and played along.

“I was searching for you too!” even if her voice showed her relief, she did not care anymore.

Oddly, she felt less threatened in the smiling stranger’s presence. Juk came up with an excuse before walking back into the hall, leaving them alone. His gentle gaze fixed on her before his smile turned soft.

“Are you okay?”

“Eh yes, yes, thank you—I should get going now.” she bowed to show him her gratitude as he shook his head.

“Ah, it’s nothing, sometimes people here get pretty intense. I’m used to this.” he explained before realisation flashed in his eyes “I never saw you here before?”

“Yes, I came here with my friend.”

“And you are leaving alone?”

“Yes, I was bored.” she slapped her hand over her lips immediately as the realisation dawned upon her. But it was too late.

Now what if he was the host?

“N-No I mean–I’m sorry—.” she was immediately in damage control mode, but he only waved his hand, laughing.

“No, no, I appreciate your honesty…I’m Hoseok by the way. Jung Hoseok.” he offered her his hand for a shake.

“(L/N)(Y/N).” she shook it with a smile.

—-----

When she opened her groggy eyes again, the room was illuminated with the sunshine filtering through the curtains fluttering. She rubbed her eyes as they began to close again.

Wait, she would never leave her window open at night?

“Good afternoon, Love!”

Her actions paused as she rose from her bed, pushing away the comforter, only to find Hoseok standing in front of her, dressed in his casual olive t-shirt and sweats. Her eyes widened in surprise, the conversation with Lia floating back in her mind.

But he did not give her much time to think, instead, he got on the bed and pulled her for a searing kiss, never minding her morning breath or her stiffness.

“I missed you so much Jagi!” there it was, the deceiving smile that had blinded her to all the bright red flags once.

His arms engulfed her, pulling her towards his chest as he hummed in delight “You were sleeping when I returned, so I made breakfast for you myself.”

Schooling her expression and keeping her voice steady, she hugged him back “Thank you Hoseok.”

“Oh, no need to thank me, Love. I have been gone for a while, haven’t I? It must have been hard for you.” his voice dipped to a tone of regret before he pulled away and cupped her face “Being locked in here all by yourself. But you know it's for your safety, don’t you?”

Gulping, she dropped her gaze and nodded. He smiled in return before kissing her once more. “There, there, nothing to worry about anymore. You can even go to the garden unattended! But why bother about a garden when we have a whole vacation planned?”

Surprised, she looked up, earning a coo from him as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Like, out of this place? This city?”

Hoseok nodded “Now, freshen up, I will serve you some breakfast. Okay?”

With a nod and a small smile, she made her way towards the bathroom, feeling increasingly uneasy in his presence. As soon as she was out of the bathroom, she was relieved to find no trace of her husband in the room. The bed was freshly made and crisp, everything seemed right in place, speckless.

A vacation…

Lia’s words never left her mind, not even for a moment since she woke up. Did she want out?

Yes. Of course, she did. And she knew that deep down, Hoseok knew that too— she never asked to be here. That was why she was not even allowed to step out of the mansion in his absence.

But the real question was…

Was she safe?

She pondered as she held the phone in her grip.

****

She cursed herself as the thick rain pounded on her back while she jogged her way back home. Had she brought an umbrella, she could have avoided this situation. She hated getting wet in the rain. She hated such stormy evenings overall.

“Shit!”

She cursed out loud as she stumbled before slipping down on the ground, her one leg folding painfully in the process. Gasping out in pain and shock, she tried to steady herself.

Breathe (Y/N), keep calm, you are almost home, you can have a good sleep and—no, not a peaceful sleep maybe but you will be taken care of.

Nodding to herself, she rose from the ground and continued her way home with a limping foot while the sky rumbled unpleasantly over her. She should have slowed down before.

Her apartment was quiet when she entered it. Closing the door with a huff, she took off her now-soaked shoes but gasped when she rose after putting them away.

There was someone in the apartment with her!

She cursed herself before hastily switching the lights on, only to fall into a fused state of relief and annoyance.

“Namjoon!” she hissed “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? And why were you just standing there like a creep?”

Namjoon chortled and folded his arms over his chest “Why? Did I scare you little bird?”

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) shook her head “I’m not a little bird Joon.”

“Oh Little bird, you are dripping.” he cooed as he made his way towards her.

If there was someone who could simultaneously get on her nerves and warm her heart, it would be Kim Namjoon, her boyfriend of six months.

And she wondered often how come he was a college professor. At the rate he lost and broke things while managing to look like the most innocent soul with round eyes and full cheeks and–no wait, he was annoying at the moment!

“There, there.” he gently patted her with a towel and yet had the audacity to tease her in between “You look like a dunked kitten by the way.”

She simply sighed. There was no stopping him, she had realised that within a month into the relationship. He was like a child sometimes, really.

“Move, I have to get changed.” Pushing her laughing boyfriend away, she made her way to the bathroom.

“Hey kitten, I have turned on the heating, be careful not to burn yourself!” He called out from behind as she slammed the bathroom door shut.

(Y/N) had met Namjoon in the most cliché place possible– a coffee shop. One moment he was passing by her seat and the next, he was tripping on plain ground and the entire content of his ‘extra-large’ cold coffee was all over her.

Before she could even turn around with smoke leaving her ears, he was on his knees apologising profusely with repeated bows, so much that he had hit his forehead twice on the table in the frenzy and his ID was on the ground, taking a dip at the spilled, frothy cold coffee.

The rest? Looking at them, anyone could have guessed the rest.

It was hard to believe that a man this clumsy was teaching at a reputed college. She often wondered ‘How did he survive this far?’, especially when he tried helping her in the kitchen.

He was banned from the kitchen for a reason.

When she entered the living room, Namjoon was busy cleaning the muddy footprints near the apartment entrance.

“I ordered us some chicken ramen with some snacks and beer.” Namjoon perked up as soon as he saw her enter the room

“Finally, something good to look forward to!” she beamed

“Oh, was work not good?” His smile faded with a frown of concern replacing it.

(Y/N) smiled and shook her head dismissively "Nothing, just the usual running around. We have some sillies coming in with bizarre complaints” she scoffed

“So, where else people would go if not the police?”

“Joon, there were claims of alien sightings.” She huffed, rolling her eyes as she plopped on the couch “Thanks for cleaning up though. I am so tired.” (Y/N) could not stop the wince when she tried to stretch her legs.

People might consider that once someone joined the police force, they attain immunity against injuries and pain– the fact was, she and officers like her, were only human.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, I just slipped while jogging back home.”

“(Y/N), how many times have I asked you to not rush? It's even more dangerous during the rainy season!”

He was immediately by her side, bunching the loose gown she wore to her mid-thigh. He winced at the sight of the bruised shin and knee.

“Look what you have done to yourself now.” Namjoon chided as he gently ran his fingers through the darkening bruises.

“I’m a police officer Joon.” she scoffed, attempting to pull away, but he would have none of that

“So? You are still human. Moreover, it has barely been a year since you joined.”

“A year Joon, a year has 365 days.”

Namjoon simply smiled and for the first time, the warmth was missing “Oh, little bird…I bet you’ve seen nothing. The world now rivals hell.” he leaned closer and placed a peck on her knee “So, be careful what you fly into.”

Although his eyes held a playful glint, they darkened under the light, ironically, they seemed to swallow the light falling on them, not reflect. It felt like she was starring at the eyes of a stranger, a man she had never seen before and—

Ring! Ring-ring!

The doorbell rang, shoving her out of the trance as she flinched– eyes darting towards the unanswered door, the smart LED mounted on the wall– anywhere but him.

Namjoon rose and walked up to the door in silence. Looking through the peephole, he unlocked the door and opened it, while she rushed to cover her legs and look decent.

It was their dinner.

“Dinner’s here!” he turned to her with the paper bag dangling from his hold as soon as he shut the door.

His smile was warm, the one she knew– it was her Namjoon.

“Don’t worry, I will set it up. Why don’t you play the sitcom we were watching last time, hmm?”

She smiled as he walked towards the kitchenette. It was so usual of him– he was Namjoon, her boyfriend. Why did it feel different then?

Shaking her head, she moved to switch on the TV– she was just tired.

—-----

There was a thing about being in the police force. One came under numerous circumstances, met numerous people and remembered most of them. It was a part of the training, or maybe the experience she had over a year of joining the Police.

The spies, the police, and the military had somewhat of a peculiar kind of instinct– in fact, they were trained to follow their instinct, trained to not hold the gaze for too long without the necessity and to never stare at the back of the head of the people they were supposed to keep an eye on.

The training, perhaps made the observation and the intuition stronger– like their subconscious would note things before their conscious mind realised.

Even after days after Namjoon’s visit, (Y/N) could not forget the moment– the brief, dreamlike moment that, even for a part of a second did make her see her boyfriend under a different light. Even if it was just for a moment, the Namjoon she knew seemed to have turned into…someone else- someone who made her…uneasy.

So, aside from the cases she already was handling along with being a part of a confidential project, she took it upon herself to research more on Namjoon– her boyfriend. He had told her that he had discarded his 'original' surname, he was just Namjoon– even his ID showed that– ‘Namjoon’. But he had been making official changes for adding 'Kim'

And that made it all the more difficult for her to dig more about him. It had not bothered her before. In fact, she had not even bothered to dig up about him, she never felt like he was hiding something or even remotely pretending. He was an unsuspecting College professor– a clumsy, endearing gentle giant who loved bonsai, flowers and everything small and cute.

Until that one night.

It is just to ease my tension. Just to ease my suspicion, it's nothing probably.

She kept telling herself as she searched through digital file after digital file without a trace of anything familiar. At one point, she even thought, why bother anyway? It might just have been the light doing its trick, or maybe her tired brain making up things.

But there was something that distinguished a person in uniform from an ordinary civilian– their reliance on their gut feeling. Even if people might find it strange, the police relied heavily on their gut feeling.

So if her gut feeling sensed something, she was trained to go with it– no matter who or what. She might be an amateur, not a speedy learner like her colleagues but she knew her job and she knew was, at the end of the day, a police officer.

—----

“The police in Busan have discovered a shipment... cocaine.”

There was an emergency meeting held as soon as the station’s in-charge received an e-mail.

“But they are suspecting that it is not the whole shipment.”

“Sir, what is the amount?” (Y/N)’s colleague Han raised the much-awaited question

Their superior’s eyes turned grim as he sighed.

This did not seem good

“48 kilograms.”

The room fell into a tense silence.

“And how do we know that it is not the whole shipment? 48kgs of cocaine is no joke.” (Y/N) spoke up this time.

“Yes, (Y/N), but the shipment was most probably for Gangnam. I had some people working for the police keeping an eye out. Those people are cunning– they evaded the Busan police– I had spoken with the station’s in-charge there and got to know that only the shipment was discovered, not the dealers.”

He switched on the projector and the screen showed a map of major cities in the country but there were places marked.

“You see these places? These are the places we have foiled major shipments in the past year.” He pointed at the flagged locations “But there is a worrying pattern here. These are the areas where most hotels, resorts, and other tourist destinations are. And before last year, neither these places nor such a jump in the number of drugs was detected…You know what this means, right?”

“There is a new snake in the town?” (Y/N) guessed.

Their senior nodded “Yes, most probably– you see, this person is experienced, cunning. They know what happens in the streets, they know how things work and yet we get are able to sack the major shipments, but not a single dealer…It seems deliberate.”

“Deliberate? Those cost billions Sir,” Han was right, but so was her boss.

“Hmm, but we have no idea how vast this empire is, do we? It is the underground we’re speaking of, Han, these people are powerful dangerous, cruel and cunning. You never take them as fools. That might be your last mistake.”

Han nodded at his words before he continued -

“For now, we need to increase the patrol. Patrol officers here, keep vigilance and let some officers loiter around in civil attire, we need to keep an eye out for this area, we have quite a few tourist places here. Dismissed for now.”

With that, the sounds of screeching and pushing chairs filled the room as the officers made their way out of the room one by one.

“Officer (Y/N), please wait, I have a discussion with you regarding the burglary case.”

“Sure sir.”

As soon as the room was empty he walked up to the door and closed it.

“Sir, the case has been–”

“Closed, I know, this is regarding the shipments.” he paused before continuing "It's a mind game (Y/N). I’m sure of it.”

“May I know the reason, Sir?”

“This time, they have targeted Busan. It's like a flag of ownership and victory, not a missed shipment. Whatever actual shipment was headed for Gangnam, has already reached there while the police were distracted with this one. It's like a declaration– they have their hold beyond this city now.”

“But 48 kg of cocaine costs a lot Sir, and Han was right, whatever shipments we have found over the months, they cost billions.”

“And..do we know if those belong to this new…snake?”

(Y/N) frowned at his response

“The underworld, (Y/N) is no stranger to brutality. As I mentioned before, this new player knows the streets. They’re experienced. Do you really think that they will make such an amateur mistake? Not a single dealer caught, no man caught. They are mocking us, making us run around like puppies...But now, I have a name for the snake…”

“A name?”

Her boss nodded before handing her his phone. There was a message from an unsaved number. A message with only two letters.

“So–so who is this?”

“Can be anyone, a business tycoon, a philanthropist or whatever, but a looming figure in the underworld with eyes and ears everywhere. Ever since the last major drug dealer was shot dead in Dubai last year, we have been receiving anonymous alerts on such shipments.”

“So, you are suggesting that this…person has replaced the notorious Don? He was a Godfather, Sir and wasn’t his son about to take up—”

“And where is his son (Y/N)? Vanished, we have no idea where he is but this is not their pattern. We know that. Their businesses are sealed– legal or illegal, their bank accounts were frozen, properties here sealed– the family is not a threat now (Y/N). But this…” He pointed at his phone in her grip “This is. They are a clear, looming threat and it is so obvious that they fear no, nothing. It's like a game to them.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

Her superior sighed and nodded as he took his phone back “It is not easy but I know I can trust you on this. I am forming a team, and I will update you soon about that but for now, we know that this snake knows the street well, maybe they belonged there once. Take a few days off and take a sweep of the street meanwhile. We need to have more information.”

“Sure, Sir.” she squared her shoulders

He nodded “Okay, you can go now, do not let anyone suspect anything until I inform you of the rest of the team.”

“Sir.” giving him a salute, she turned to walk away.

“And (Y/N).”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Be careful. We have a cunning and venomous one here.”

“I will keep that in mind, Sir.”

“Okay, you can go now.”

—-------------

The place looked as peaceful as ever. The aroma of roasted coffee beans, blended with that of butter and chocolate– it was a typical cafe. And the same cafe she had met Namjoon for the first time. And as she watched the couple sitting across the place, the same seat she had been sitting on months ago, her meeting with Namjoon, her interaction, it all felt surreal. Their story was indeed novel-worthy! Like a perfect romcom—

Perfect…

(Y/N) froze completely for a moment when the realisation struck her– her chewing, her fiddling, even her breathing and blinking.

Each movement spent with her boyfriend flowed in and each moment seemed so…Perfect.

Beautiful or not, (Y/N) knew one thing about the world…Nothing is perfect.

Yes, there were some shortcomings here and there but the meetings, the bumping into one another again…Everything was indeed perfect.

She gulped, then blinked.

No, she was thinking too much. Namjoon was a true gentleman. A man she was falling for, she really liked him. Maybe–maybe even loved him? She was not much sure about love but she knew one thing for sure, her job’s stress was spilling over on her personal life and affecting her personal relationships.

Before her thoughts could spiral any further, the chair in front of her was pulled out and her boyfriend took a seat in front of her, boring holes into her form as he made himself comfortable.

“Oh, Hi Namjoon.”

Namjoon did not respond immediately, he just sat there, staring right into her eyes, fingers folded into a contemplating posture. For the first time, (Y/N) realised that indeed, it would not be difficult for him to take control over a class of even hundreds– he had a commanding presence.

“You have not been answering my calls,” he stated.

There was no questioning regarding the possible reasons. There was no trace of ‘questions’ in his tone at all.

“Yes, I have been a bit busy lately– just the usual, police things.”

Namjoon simply hummed, eyes still searching hers without a shift. “What are you getting, little bird?”

“Uh…Coffee?” she was left baffled at her own reaction.

It was Namjoon, just Namjoon. So why did she feel… scrutinised? She was reminded of the night she had seen a glimpse of…something in his eyes.

“So– what would you have?” her gaze dropped to the menu card in front of her.

“The usual.”

She nodded to a waiter passing by

“Would you like to order Ma’am?”

But before she could speak up, Namjoon ‘s voice intervened “One cappuccino frappe and a caramel macchiato along with some choco-chip cookies please.”

As soon as the waiter was gone, he reached out for her hand on the table and sighed “You scared me (Y/N).” his eyes looked so soft and vulnerable, she thought she was crazy. Something had to be wrong with her to doubt a man like him.

“I’m so sorry Joon, I was so stressed about my job I…” he squeezed her hand gently and nodded.

“It must be stressful, right? See, you have dark circles forming.” His fingers reached out and traced the subtle bags forming under her eyes. “But please let me know (Y/N), let me know that you are okay, not too stressed, not hurt…I was so worried!”

Guilt encompassed her as she stared at his vulnerable gaze addressing her. He had been so worried about her and there she was, letting her investigative brain rush to conclusions and scenarios.

“I’m...I’m so sorry Joon, I should have informed you– I was so wrapped up in things and—” she stopped herself lest she would accidentally let something confidential slip out. And no matter who it was, having a loose tongue as a police officer was unacceptable.

“It’s okay, I understand Baby. Just never...” his hold on her hand tightened with a pause “Avoid me again.”

—-----

Everything was settled. Han, her, Dok and Kyong were in the special team. They met up at Han’s place in order to discuss their strategy.

“So we have a layout of the regions where we found drugs worth millions and from different cities. Each time, different location and different day.”

“Where’s the pattern though?” Han questioned,

“In the fact that everything time, it is a city, a town at least, no remote area.”

“Yes.” (Y/N) added. All eyes turned to her and Kyong nodded “Not yet.”

“So, where do we begin?” Dok asked the much-anticipated question

“ As we know, we are on leave on paper. This is a highly confidential mission. First thing first, Sir asked us to be lowkey. No matter what we need to risk, just don’t get caught. The department would refuse any connection without activities here.”

“If it's a special mission then, why not involve the intelligence?”

“We are yet to receive any message from the higher-ups,” Kyong explained

“So we are on our own?”

“Definitely,” Han added.

“What we can do now is to track where the recent shipment was supposedly headed for– Gangnam. Why don’t we all spread to different high-profile clubs? Meanwhile, tell our informants to be on high alert, especially in Gangnam and nearby localities, even universities and colleges.” (Y/N) proposed.

“You’re right. Shall we go tonight?” Dok proposed

“Yes, we can but would not this be obvious if anything happens tonight? We found a shipment yesterday.” Kyong suggested,

“The weekend then?”

“No (Y/N), the weekend is just too obvious. If anything does happen this weekend, it might be planned too, maybe to distract us—right–Kyong, your best informants are active nearby airports, stations and docks right?”

Han perked up as if a fuse went off in his head

“Tell them to be active tonight and especially this weekend. We can spread it in different clubs in Gangnam. If anything happens there, we shall also alert the informants and the police near dockyards, train stations and transportation areas. Because if they do plan to distract us, they might be up to something much bigger. Shipment, I assume, for now. We can catch them red-handed.”

“But where would be the official orders? Like, we are involving police officers from other regions Han.” Kyong had a point.

“Well, right, we can speak to Sir, right? He will provide us with the required.” Han proposed.

“Han is right, if this is a special mission at the department level, there is no way that the higher-ups have no idea. And even if they have no idea and Byuk Sir is risking it all for this mission, he has to have some loopholes in his mind. He can manage and he can help us all manage.” (Y/N) added.

“But, wait, we were supposed to just collect information, not arrest anyone.” Dok pointed out.

“Well, not this RM, we can’t reach to such a level by ourselves, but maybe get out hands on this…RM’s men? Won’t this be a breakthrough?” Kyong argued.

“And would alert them further? We don’t even know if this is a man, woman, organisation, or group–we are in complete darkness!” Dok pointed out and he was right.

“Dok’s right. We will only collect information, a full-fledged operation would happen only after approval from the higher-ups, we don’t know who we are dealing with Kyong and if something goes wrong, the whole department, especially Byuk Sir would be under fire. We have to first find out this…RM’s reach and standing.”

“Seems obnoxiously confident to me, deliberately giving away billions worth of shipments,” Han added.

“And we will let them be confident. Won’t take long to turn into overconfidence– one misstep and we can have them.” (Y/N) spoke up and everyone nodded in agreement.

“This weekend then.” Dok reminded.

“This very weekend Dok,” Kyong assured.

—-----------

“Are you free this Weekend?” Namjoon asked as he poured her some wine.

They were dining in a moderately fancy restaurant to celebrate his promotion as the Department Head. Now he would be responsible for all the inter-section activities and event organisations for the Literature and Culture Department of the University.

“I wish I were Baby, but I need to help a friend out. She’s a colleague, her mother is sick, I need to take care of her baby for a day.”

“Oh, what happened?” he asked before sipping his wine.

“Cancer.”

She hated the fact that she was having to lie to him. But what was needed, was to be done.

“Oh, the type?”

“I don’t know much, it has been rough on her, I’m trying to help as much as I can.”

Namjoon hummed before smiling “It’s okay, Jagi, we will get to spend a lot of time later. Just take care of yourself, hmm?”

“Yes, sure Joon.” she smiled back, but guilt continued to tap within.

But it would be alright. Once she was done with this case, she would make up for the lost time with her Joonie. She reassured herself.

—------

“Okay, I’ve reached, Dok,(Y/N), Han?” Kyong’s voice was clear despite the thrumming music across the floor littered with moving and blinking streaks of neon. The earbuds were incredible.

“Yes, I’ve reached. Over.” (Y/N) responded and followed.

“Okay, you have your informants inside?”

“Yes.” (Y/N) replied, as she neared the bar, body language relaxed and dressed up to mingle with the crowd.

She ordered a drink– her eyes met with that of the bartender. They flashed with recognition and he nodded and prepared her drink. He poured yellow syrup over it.

A subtle sign that he was suspicious of someone in the nightclub.

“Here you go Ma’am.” he smiled and leaned further for the final garnishing, and as he leaned, he managed to whisper out “A man in a white shirt, scotch on rocks– corner seat.”

Taking her drink, she turned around and looked around the area. It was too chaotic and dark. And if there was someone, she did not want to seem even remotely suspicious. Fishing out her phone, she connected with another informant in the place– a waitress.

“Man in a white shirt, scotch on rocks, a corner seat. Use a bug.”

For an hour, whatever she had heard had been irrelevant but then, something caught her ears

“Yes, whole forty-eight, the shore, where else? Let's talk upstairs…”

From where she stood, she could see the man, partially visible under the shadows– he was a middle-aged, bulky man. But he was not alone, there were three more people. As they moved, (Y/N) slipped further under the shadows, pretending to be just another girl on call. Yet, from the corner of her eyes, she could see them beginning to walk towards the more private space of the club.

Under the shadows, she was about to stalk them when, with a beep, her team reconnected with call.

“ This is Kyong. We have information regarding a suspicious shipment at the dockyard, I repeat, we have information regarding a suspicious shipment to be loaded at the dockyard within an hour. Over.”

“Kyong, I think we have a suspect here. Over.” (Y/N) informed.

“We have to move to the dockyard first (Y/N) give the tell your informants to stay alert there. Over.” Kyong spoke

“Kyong, this might be important.”

“(Y/N), this is more important, you are alone there anyway. Just meet us near Cafe 18.” he named the meeting point in coded language.

Sighing, (Y/N) threw the door leading upstairs one last look before reconnecting with her informants

“Keep an eye, bug the place if possible. Also, keep tonight’s footage ready. I’m leaving now.”

—-----

To their utter disappointment, there was no suspicious shipment discovered at the dockyard. Everything was in place. But the people the informant was suspicious of, had vanished into thin air as well– tightening the knot on the case further.

“It's far more complicated than I had expected,” Dok spoke out, running his hands through his hair.

After such a hectic night, the four of them decided to call it a day and grab some dinner at a good, old ramen shop.

“This is only our first attempt Dok, we can’t lose hope like that.” (Y/N) patted his back.

“It makes no sense, they are in the CCTV footage but they never reach the dock.”

Wait–CCTV footage!

“Oh right, I think I have found a lead.” (Y/N) dropped her chopsticks and perked up. She prayed that at least the bartender would have his hands on the CCTV footage.

“Really? What?” Han asked,

“See, I have the recordings, I already sent them to each of you, just listen.”

Fishing out their earbuds, they listened to the part of the recording she had sent them.

“Sounds familiar? He did not use anything directly, not an amateur for sure but the words, forty-eight, shore. Don’t they ring a bell?”

“They surely do. Can we have access to tonight’s footage?”

“I hope so too. By tomorrow I guess?” (Y/N) prayed what she said would come true.”

“Okay, as soon as you get hold of that, inform us. Han, is your girlfriend home?”

“No, she has gone to her parents’.”

“Perfect.” Kyong clapped his and together.

—------

“Have you watched the footage yourself?” Kyong asked as Han began to set up his laptop.

“No, I came straight here.” (Y/N) replied with her eyes still stuck on the laptop screen

“That's a good move, what if people are keeping an eye on us too?”

“Quiet possible.”

As soon as Han clicked on ‘play’, the strenuous task of analysing the video began. But four pairs of eyes were far better than one.

(Y/N) could feel her patience waning. The man and those people with him had been so exceptionally discreet, there was no trace of them in the footage even after hours of watching and—

“Wait, wait wait! Rewind that.” She jumped up as soon as something caught her eye.

“What, this?” Han was clueless.

She tasked and took the laptop before rewinding the footage again. Narrowing her eyes, she zoomed in.

“It's him, the man.” She declared and placed the laptop in front of everyone.

“I see. We need to save this picture, take a screenshot Han.” Kyong suggested as he clicked a picture on his phone too.

It was thankfully, not blurry enough to be unrecognisable, and the fact that they had not reached the end of the video made them more hopeful of catching something else.

Han clicked on play again before they discovered the people with the man as well. One by one.

“Hmm, there are three more men and a woman. But only their backs are visible until now.”

“Wait!” (Y/N) yelled out, catching them off guard.

“Did you find something?” Han asked as he paused the video once more.

(Y/N) licked her lips and took hold of the laptop. Rewinding the part, she watched closely again. The second man…Even though his back was to the camera, he was too familiar to her.

After a few seconds, they all turned to the side to take their seats. There, she could see his side profile and her legs were fast turning brittle.

“You have seen anyone from here (Y/N)?” she could not answer Dok.

Instead, her eyes stayed on the frozen screen, she zoomed in and a wave of nausea hit her.

Namjoon...

It was Namjoon!

Her boyfriend Namjoon. She would recognise him anywhere– from the way he walked, to his back, his hair and now his side profile. Too many coincidences could never be a coincidence.

“(Y/N), you know him?” Kyong asked.

Yes.

She wanted to scream a ‘yes’ but she just could not.

“No, I was just…taking a good look at them.” she deadpanned.

—------

“Hello, this is (Collage Name) College, how may I help you?” The receptionist’s gentle voice echoed through the phone, but it only turned (Y/N)’s heartbeat erratic.

“Hello, I would like to leave Professor Namjoon a message regarding the upcoming semester.”

“Let me check Ma’am, please let me know your details.” She requested

“ Choi Hana, Guardian of his student.”

“I request you to stay online, please…Yes, thank you, Professor Namjun you asked. Let me transfer your call to the Economics Department.”

“Economics Department? But isn’t he a professor in the Department of Literature and Culture Studies?”

“Ma’am we only have Cultural Studies Department. Literature is a separate Department. Shall I forward this call, Ma’am?”

“Okay.” (Y/N) managed to squeak out.

After a few beeps, another voice greeted her.

“Good afternoon, this is the Department of Economics of (College Name) College, how may I help you?” Another woman’s voice filled her ear.

“Can I speak to Professor Namjun, please? I am a guardian of one of his students”

“I am sorry Ma’am, he is attending the Department meeting right now. But you can leave a message.”

“He is the department chairperson, right?”

“No Ma’am, not anymore, he was, two years back.”

“Oh?”

“Yes Ma’am, would you like to leave a message?”

“Sure, please let him know that…that I would be thankful to him if he could give me an appointment to meet him. It's an urgent matter.”

“Surely ma’am, would you like to share your name and contact?”

“Yes, uh, Choi Hana.” she gave the email address she used for her undercover investigations before the line was cut off.

(Y/N) felt her throat close up and her eyes turn blurry. The park was scarcely populated during the afternoons– thanks to that. But she would still not risk breaking down in a public place. Se ought to hold herself up like a true officer.

Leaning against a tree, she tried to gather herself together. But with each passing moment, her lips quivered just a little more.

No. Not now. Now now!

She tried to school herself. But nothing seemed to work. One stubborn tear managed to escape her eye anyway.

I loved you.

Another tear followed.

I trusted you

Then another.

But she managed to stop herself from bursting into a fit of tears and the scream that was itching her chords with deep, calming breaths.

A drink.

Yes, that was what she needed.

—-----

By the time she was home, the sun had already set, but it was a pleasant evening– ideal for walking home. She was not drunk, or even tipsy. It was just a buzz but it could not make her feel any better.

The apartment was plunged into a tense darkness when she stepped in. Her fingers twitched, ready to reach for her gun at any moment, but she kept her body language calm– casual and unassuming.

“How was babysitting?”

She jumped at his voice. But it was too dark for her to see.

Before she could reach the light switch, Namjoon switched on a table lamp, illuminating the space enough for her to see him sitting on the sofa but somehow making her own apartment appear threatening.

With him in it, the place did not even feel like her own. She no longer felt safe with him.

Switching on the lights anyway, she schooled her expressions to that of being pleasantly surprised, even though her throat felt parched. Sometimes, working in the police paid off immensely.

“I was babysitting yesterday Joon,” she replied, putting away the titbits she had bought on her way home.

Namjooon gave her the heart-melting smile her heart had fluttered for. She managed to smile back at him as she made her way towards the kitchen. The delicious aroma of her favourites hit her. Switching on the kitchen lights, her suspicions were confirmed as takeouts from her favourite ramen stall awaited her at the kitchen island.

“I missed you awfully today. Couldn’t help myself.” Namjoon's hot breath teased the back of her neck, making goosebumps appear all over her body.

“Oh, Joon…you didn’t have to.”

“I don’t mind doing this for you, Jagi.” He placed a kiss on the back of her neck as she held back a grimace, keeping her smile plastered on her face.

Her heart stung bitterly as his lips tenderly traced her cheek and the side of her neck. She was greeted by his warm smile and soft eyes as he turned her around, fished out his phone from his pocket and played her favourite song. Perfect for slow-dancing to.

“What has gotten into you?” (Y/N) chuckled, keeping her composure as he led her steps, twirling her now and then.

“I love you so much, Jagi. You know that right?” his fingers wrapped gently at the back of her neck as he pulled her into a breath-robbing kiss.

“Yes, I know that.”

Now that I know your true face.

His lips descended to the side of her neck as he pulled her closer.

Bear it.

She told herself.

Do not let him be suspicious.

“Then why are you trying to investigate me?”

His voice dropped into something heavy and unrecognisable and everything stilled. But before she could think of anything, she felt his fingers pressing at the side of her neck and her eyes rolled back.

*****

Pheww! It was a long part, but I enjoyed writing it and hopefully, it would not disappoint you all!

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sinswithpleasure · 1 year

Text

[We'll Keep This] Our Dirty Little Secret

—-------

I like uniforms. A lot.

For @iznsfw, @gangplanksorenji, and @kaedespicelatte.

Please practice safe sex—wrap it before you tap it.

—-------

And… now.

"Eeek!"

Kim Chaewon, otherwise known as your beloved girlfriend, yelps in surprise when you bust out of a door and pull her into an unused classroom. Not the most romantic, admittedly—this was more "kidnapper" than "boyfriend"—but no one should know what would be going on in this room. Skipping classes to have one hour of time with the significant other? Horrible behavior.

"Hi, baby."

"Jagiya! What are you doing?!"

You pull Chaewon into a big hug, and she returns it, her body relaxing into the embrace. She's been busy as Head Prefect, and you're more than happy to provide her with pockets of time where you can give her a little boost of love and encouragement.

"Making time to be with you, of course!"

"I can't, jagi, there's that talk… I have to be there because… y'know…" Chaewon pouts as she raises the red and black tie that denotes her prefect appointment, and you pull your cutie into another hug.

"Aiish, didn't you say attendance wasn't taken? And in your words, it was 'stupid and wasting time'?"

"Yeah." Chaewon's muffled reply comes from your shoulder. "But—"

"No buts, jagi. You're spending time with me, just for this hour, okay?

"Okay, fine." Chaewon can't resist the break time. You know she's desperately in need of one—this is the busiest period of time in the school year for the prefects, and she's been complaining a lot about it. You're more than happy to be able to provide a bubble for her to relax.

"Anything you wanna do?"

"I'd like to have teddy bear time, jagi."

Chaewon blushes. It's your name for a seated cuddle, where Chaewon sits on your lap facing you, and you cuddle up. It's one of your favorite pastimes with her, and you're not going to say no to her call for physical affection ever.

You lead Chaewon to a desk and sit down on the chair as she straddles your lap. You stare at her lovingly as she gets comfortable, and when she leans in for the cuddle, you melt into her as she melts into you too—you've both missed each other so much.

"I've missed you, baby."

"I've missed you too."

Both you and Chaewon enjoy the cuddle for a while before Chaewon pushes herself up from you.

"Eh?"

"Reseating."

Chaewon reseats herself for more comfort, and she grabs your cheeks, her thumbs gently going over your skin. You smile fondly at her as she returns the same fond smile.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Chaewon leans in to connect your lips to hers. She kisses you gently, and you pull her closer as you enjoy the intimacy with her. Now that you had some time to slow down and relax with her, you were going to make the best of it. Chaewon definitely needed it, and you can't resist touching your girlfriend.

During the kiss, you let your hands run across her back. You move slowly, savoring the feel of the smooth cloth of her uniform across your hands, her warmth underneath it. One hand raises up to cradle her head as you deepen the kiss a little before breaking for air.

Chaewon pants for air, her skin flushed. She chases after your lips again, her kiss still gentle but with a little more urgency. She hugs you closer, and you wrap your arms around her, both hands on her back this time, and you begin to explore her body. You run your hands over her back again, Chaewon kissing you harder as your hands run over the straps and clasp of her bra. She almost pins you to the chair with how hard she kisses you, but not that you mind—getting pinned under Chaewon during physical intimacy is exactly where you want to be.

You're tempted to unclasp Chaewon's bra. Chaewon only gets this forward when you've turned her on, and she probably wouldn't—

"Mmf~!"

Two things happen during your train of thought: first, Chaewon releases a sultry moan during your kiss, one that goes straight to your hardening cock, and secondly, you feel Chaewon start to grind down on you. The delicious friction of Chaewon's body against your crotch gets you to moan too, and you're starting to get warmer, your thoughts dirtier.

Chaewon breaks the kiss for air. Both of you try to catch your breath, and you can't keep your eyes off Chaewon's lips, just as she can't keep her eyes off yours. You groan as Chaewon shifts herself, and she cuts off a moan when she grinds right over your bulge—

You thought she would stop. She doesn't.

Chaewon keeps grinding down on you as she pulls you into a hug. You can hear every whimper, every moan, every gasp next to your ear as your girlfriend decides to give in to her desires. This isn't the first time you've been intimate with Chaewon, and you know she has a bad track record with resisting the temptations of sexual pleasure, especially when alone with you.

"Fuck, Chaewon…"

You lower your hands to try to grab Chaewon and stop her. You're not sure whether it'd be good to carry on—Chaewon's a prefect, and even though you'd love to have sex with her, you're still in school.

"Chaewon, no, we ca—"

"Please, I've been so busy…"

Chaewon's shaky voice displays the pure neediness she exudes.

"I haven't even had the time to masturbate at all, jagi.

"Please, I need you."

When her sentence ends, your lips are on Chaewon's, tongue already attempting to gain access for a deeper kiss. Chaewon deepens the kiss with you in response, and she pulls herself even closer to you, her clothed pussy grinding down hard on your bulge. Your hands, formerly on her waist to stop her, have now instead moved down under her skirt to her ass, kneading on the soft bountiful flesh. The pleasured moans your girlfriend releases only gets you hornier.

"Jagi~!"

You break the kiss with Chaewon for air, and the lewd display of her on your lap, in her uniform, sultrily grinding her wet pussy against down on your cock has you cursing up a storm. You rip the Velcro that Chaewon's tie together at the back of her collar, the tie thrown aside in favour of undressing your girlfriend. When the first two buttons of her blouse fall open, your lips glue themselves to her neck as you nibble on her sensitive spots. Chaewon is putty in your lap—her nails dig into your back as she gasps and whines at the little nips of your teeth on her skin, but she doesn't stop ruining her panties by grinding down on you. You can't wait to fuck your girlfriend.

Bit by bit, the buttons pop open, and you get to see Chaewon's breasts clad in a white bra. One hand of yours is already working to unclip the pesky undergarment, the other helps to pull the blouse off her body. With a 'click', Chaewon's bra falls loose, and she pulls it off herself to reveal her cute little breasts to your eyes.

"Jagi, take off your clothes too."

You're already halfway to pulling your own shirt off at Chaewon's words. You join her in being topless, and you dive in to taste her breasts, your lips capturing one nipple and a hand capturing her other breast. With the combined assault you mount on her body, Chaewon's moans echo around the empty room as the pleasure washes over her, each gentle suck on her nipple prompting her to push your head harder against her as she seeks more of it.

"You sound so naughty, Chaewonie~." You chuckle, the puff of air you exhale blowing over Chaewon's nipple, the coolness of it drawing a gasp out of your girlfriend.

"S-Shut up, jagi! It's your fault!" Chaewon's red flush across her soft cheeks is equal parts cute and equal parts arousing, considering how hot she looks topless on your lap right now.

"Mine? I'm not the one who decided to use her boyfriend to masturbate while kissing."

"But it's… it's your cock that I want fucking my pussy right now, jagi. It's your fault!"

You swear you're about to tear a hole through your pants with how fucking hard her words make you. You can't even keep yourself calm anymore.

"Do you have any idea how hard that makes me, Chaewonie?"

A lustful glint shines across your girlfriend's eyes.

"Show me?"

You push Chaewon off your lap and rise to your feet. Both of you reach for your remaining clothes, and the sound of cloth ruffling is all that is heard for a moment as the both of you undress fully. You stare in unbridled lust as Chaewon's skirt falls to the ground with her panties, her naked body on display for your very eyes. Your pants fall a second later, your hard shaft springing out of the prison of your uniform. Chaewon hops atop the desk behind her, and as you kick both of your uniforms aside, she spreads her legs wide open to show you her pussy drenched in her arousal. You begin to jerk yourself in anticipation, and Chaewon executes her killing blow.

"Look at how wet you made me, jagi."

Your girlfriend splays her labia open with two fingers, and you feast on the sight of Chaewon literally dripping onto the desk as she shows you all of her wet pussy. Your cock twitches as more precum drips out of your tip. You'd already been so wet enjoying the foreplay, but the sight of Chaewon spreading her cunt wide open for you…

"Come fuck my pussy."

"Fuck!"

Your expletive rings around the empty room, and you crash your lips against Chaewon's in a torrid kiss. You grab your girl by the hips and readjust her on the desk, your length resting along the wet slit of her pussy, and you grind your shaft against her clit as she moans. You can feel how hard her clit is as it rubs against the underside of your shaft, her juices lubricating your entire length the more you grind down.

"Put it in, jagi, please!"

You can't deny Chaewon anymore, and neither can you deny your primal desires. You line your shaft up with Chaewon's pussy, and with a shift of your hips, you finally penetrate your girlfriend. Inch by inch, you fill your girlfriend's tight cunt with your shaft, and when you hilt, you move to pull out halfway before thrusting back in. Rinse and repeat over and over, and Chaewon's loud moans join yours as you finally enjoy the pleasures of sex with her.

"Fuck, Chaewon, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Jagi, jagi, kiss me, kiss me!"

You oblige immediately, and you join lips with Chaewon again as your tongues swirl around the other's. Chaewon's hand grips you under your ear as you make out with her, and her other hand snakes between your bodies to rub her clit in time with your thrusts. You have an arm wrapped around her body, the other holding you up for support against the surface of the neighboring desk. Chaewon's pussy is so warm, so wet, so tight—the pleasure of fucking her cunt is all that you can process.

When you break the kiss for air, you press your forehead against Chaewon's as you keep on thrusting into her tight sex. You stare deep into Chaewon's eyes, the dark brown pools glossed over in lust and pleasure. However, underneath it, you can sense how happy she is to be making love with you, and how much she loves you. You can't help but pull her in for another kiss, one that she hungrily reciprocates. Both of you moan into the kiss, Chaewon getting louder when you move your free hand from the table to her right breast, kneading the soft sensitive flesh and gently rubbing her taut nipple. Chaewon breaks the kiss, and you dive for her neck again to nibble on her skin.

"Jagi, jagi, keep fucking me like that, fuck, right there, fuck!"

You begin to focus your thrusts exactly the way she demands you to, your cock hitting her G-spot on every thrust in. Chaewon's pussy gets wetter and tighter with the increased stimulation, and with her fingers on her clit rubbing herself hard, you know she's so damned close—

"Jagi, fuck, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum! Cum with me, cum inside me, cum inside me!"

With a loud grunt, you level three more thrusts into Chaewon's tight pussy before she cries out in pleasure, her body shuddering as her orgasm hits her. Her legs wrap tightly around your waist and lock around you as she bucks her hips repeatedly, her body writhing atop the desk as her walls quiver around your cock, her juices gushing along your length. With Chaewon in the throes of her orgasm, you're brought to your own as your hips stutter, your thrusts losing their rhythm as you empty your balls deep into your girlfriend's still orgasming cunt, burst after burst of semen painting her walls white deep within her. You pull Chaewon into a tight hug against your chest as you fill her up with your cum, one that she reciprocates almost instantly as you ride the waves of pleasure together until they subside to nothing.

When you soften, you pull out from Chaewon's freshly fucked hole, a trail of white leaking from her pussy almost immediately. You grin at the satisfied, exhausted smile Chaewon shoots at you, her carnal desires finally sated with your help. You're quick to grab tissues from the little pack in your pockets to clean up, and both of you attempt to clean up as much of the mess as you can, as quickly as possible. Right as you throw the final piece of tissue away, the school bell rings, signifying the next period beginning.

When you hand Chaewon her uniform and undergarments, she pulls you in for a soft kiss.

"Thank you, jagi. I love you so much."

"I love you too."

Chaewon giggles when she gazes down at your naked bodies.

"I guess we'll keep this as our dirty little secret~."

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #male reader #male reader insert #kim chaewon smut #le sserafim smut #izone chaewon #izone smut #chaewon smut

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boyinatown · 10 months

Note

Treat me like a slut with Goo Eli and Johan ?

TREAT ME LIKE A SLUT! 🎀

Pairing: lookism men x f! Reader 💗 pt2

Warning: sexual theme and make out sesh 💋!

Summary: lookism men react to the song: treat me like a slut when you play your playlist !

GOO KIM 💎

This sex maniac has the HIGHEST sex drive, so it’s no kidding that even just a brush against his crotch would have you bent over and fucked ruthless.

When this song played during a tik tok, goo immediately turned around to you wiggling his eyebrows. you brushed him off saying it’s just a song, but he’s already imagining things.

And there you were being fucked into the couch the popcorn of movie night falling down and decorating the floor. the movies sounds now being muted by your moans and protests against the blondie on top of you.

The scratches and bites were useless against him ,you made him hard and you were gonna pay for it. He puts you on your right side one leg in the air and his leg between your thighs. Cock pumping in and out of you, you try and smack his arm and scratch it. But he just grips your wrists and holds them down your chest just pounding away.

“No we’re not done yet, not until your spilling with my cum.” His voice deep and a few whimpers leave his mouth.

“G-ooah! It’s to much, it’s to muhhh!” Your babbling gets quickly shut up by his own lips connecting with yours. Tongue forcing inside your mouth his hips not even stopping for a second.

“I’ll show ya how a slut gets treated, cockwhore .”

ELI JANG 💇‍♂️

You often babysat yenna for Eli, all he asked you is to watch your language near her. Simple right? Wrong. you forgot you were around a child and sang the song anyways.

One minute you were watching yenna and the next you were thrown on a bed. Before it all got dark.

“Ah, ah ohh! Shitttt! Eli, Mmphm!-“

Smack!

One harsh slap against your jiggling ass has you crying even louder wailing, but it drives you crazy causing you to move back against Eli’s cock that was drilling inside you.

“I told you watch that fucking filthy mouth, and what did you do? Disobey me.”

SMACK! SMACK ! SMACK! !!

the spanking gets harder and harder till the point you can feel stinging, but still you move back against him smiling at him in pleasure.

Your face getting pushed more into the pillow and Eli yanking your hair back with one hand while the other keeps spanking you.

“Ah your smiling are you? Let’s change that, slut.”

“Keep up , because I’m gonna absolutely fuckin’ ruin you, that’ll teach you.”

JOHAN SEONG 🐕

This poor guy just wanted to finish his day from white tiger job center, but when he came home to the sight of you just naked getting ready for bed you couldn’t prepare yourself for what was to come.

All you felt in the moment was his tie from his suit placed in your mouth forming a gag.

“What’s wrong? Come on speak up. tell me what you want baby.”

He laughs at your crying form, legs spread to your chest and each time he thrusts the bed shakes and your breasts slightly jiggle.

Holding onto his neck he increases his speed and roughness hitting that one spot that made you arch your back and toes curl. he kissed your cheeks and mocked your crying face.

“Oh? Oh? Oh? Your moans are pathetic do you know that? Like a real porn star, aren’t you just cute.”

“Just prepare yourself, we’ve got a long night ahead I’ll turn you into a real slut.”

The only time you punks ask for fics is when I’m on an vacation, but I love you little rebels so it’s fine.

💌 ask box continues to stay open, and for all the anonymous people that requested fics, they’ll be uploaded soon.

#goo kim lookism #goo kim smut #eli jang #eli jang smut #johan seong lookism #johan seong smut #johan seong #lookism smut #lookism scenarios #samiiblogs 📼#samii 🎸

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