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Summary: Hyunjin is used to surviving storms, sword fights, and life at sea.None of that prepared him for a curious mermaid with too many questions, a love for stray cats, and a habit of looking at him like he’s something worth keeping.
pairing: pirate!Hyunjin x mermaid!female reader
genre: fluff and angst (hints of smut)
tags/cw: soft fantasy, emotional intimacy, POC traits, discovery/first experiences, strangers to lovers, first kiss
word count: ~9k
previous
You were supposed to leave before sunrise.
That had been the plan.
One night on land.
One night with Hyunjin.
Then back to the ocean before things became complicated.
Instead, pale morning light spills through the windows of Hyunjin’s cabin while you wake slowly beneath one of his blankets.
Which feels significantly more complicated.
For a few quiet seconds, you genuinely forget where you are.
The room shifts softly beneath you with the movement of the ship.
Wood creaks somewhere overhead.
Waves crash gently against the hull outside.
Human sounds. Ship sounds.
Hyunjin’s space.
Your eyes drift sleepily around the cabin afterward.
Maps scattered across the desk.
Rings tossed carelessly beside an open journal.
A sword propped near the wall.
Clothes draped over the back of a chair.
Him.
The entire room somehow feels unmistakably him.
Saltwater.
Smoke.
Cinnamon lingering faintly beneath it all now.
Your chest tightens unexpectedly.
Dangerous.
Again.
Voices echo faintly somewhere above deck before footsteps approach outside the cabin door.
Then pause. Like whoever’s outside suddenly remembered something.
A second later, the door opens carefully.
Hyunjin steps inside carrying two cups in his hands before immediately stopping short the moment he notices you awake.
Something in his expression softens instantly.
Sleepy surprise melting into something warmer.
Gentler.
“Morning,” he says quietly.
Your voice comes out softer than intended. “…Morning.”
Neither of you moves for a second afterward.
The intimacy of it settles strangely through the room.
Daylight.
Quiet.
Just the two of you.
Hyunjin recovers first, stepping farther inside before holding one of the cups toward you as you swing your legs around from under the covers.
You blink down at the drink suspiciously. “Is this another human thing?”
Hyunjin laughs softly under his breath. “Tea isn’t that threatening.”
“That’s what you said about cinnamon rolls.”
“And was I wrong?”
"Unfortunately, no."
You carefully take the cup from him afterward, your fingers brushing his briefly in the process.
Warm.
Your heartbeat immediately stumbles again.
Hyunjin notices. Of course he notices.
His eyes flick toward your face for half a second too long before he quietly looks away again.
Which honestly feels worse somehow.
“You stayed,” he says after a moment.
The words are simple.
But something quieter hides beneath them.
Hopeful.
Like he still wasn’t entirely sure you would.
You look down into the steaming cup between your hands.
“…I wanted to.”
Silence settles softly between you afterward.
Not awkward. Just Full.
Hyunjin leans lightly against the edge of the desk nearby, watching you over the rim of his own cup now with that same soft expression he’s been wearing more and more lately.
The dangerous one.
The one that keeps making your chest ache.
Somewhere above deck, loud footsteps suddenly thunder overhead followed immediately by shouting.
“CAPTAIN—”
Hyunjin closes his eyes instantly.
“Nevermind,” he mutters. “Reality found us.”
A second later, the cabin door bursts open hard enough to slam against the wall.
“Captain, Chan said if Minho throws another knife at somebody during breakfast he’s legally allowed to mutiny—”
The sailor stops abruptly.
Silence.
Your eyes meet his.
His eyes widen.
Hyunjin sighs so deeply it sounds spiritual.
“Jisung,” he says calmly, “you are currently experiencing a very important moment called knocking.”
Jisung continues staring at you in complete disbelief.
“…There’s a woman in your cabin.”
“Excellent observation.”
“A very pretty woman.”
“Jisung.”
“Wearing your shirt.”
Jisung slowly looks between the two of you again before something horrifyingly excited flashes across his face.
“Oh my god.”
“No.”
“OH MY GOD.”
Hyunjin pinches the bridge of his nose.
“You have exactly five seconds before I throw you overboard.”
“Captain has a girlfriend,” Jisung whispers dramatically to himself.
“Girlfriend?”
“Not helping,” Hyunjin says immediately.
Jisung points at him in vindication, “SEE?”
The sheer chaos of the interaction leaves you blinking in confusion while Hyunjin looks moments away from sailing directly into a hurricane voluntarily.
“Why are you like this so early in the morning?” he mutters.
“Why are you like this suddenly?” Jisung shoots back immediately. “You disappear for one night and come back with a mystery girl?”
Hyunjin visibly freezes for half a second.
Ah.
Interesting.
So this really is unusual for him.
Jisung notices the realization crossing your face and gasps loudly. “Oh, you didn’t know?”
“Jisung.”
“Captain hates everybody.”
“That is not true.”
“You threatened a man for breathing too loudly yesterday.”
“He was doing it incorrectly.”
You laugh before you can stop yourself.
Hyunjin immediately looks over at you.
And there it is again.
That softness.
Like your laughter pulls it out of him automatically now.
Jisung sees it happen in real time.
Then slowly: “…Oh, he’s gone gone.”
“Get out.”
"Violently in love....WOW!"
Hyunjin grabs the nearest object off the desk.
Jisung disappears instantly before he can throw it and the cabin door slams shut behind him.
Silence settles again afterward.
Hyunjin stares at the closed door for a long moment before dropping his head into one hand.
“I need a new crew.”
You’re still trying not to laugh, “I thought pirates were supposed to be intimidating.”
“Mine are defective.”
“Mhm.”
Hyunjin glances over at you afterward, still visibly suffering.
“For the record,” he says carefully, “I did not tell him to say any of that.”
You tilt your head slightly. “The girlfriend part or the violently in love part?”
Hyunjin nearly chokes. “You are enjoying this entirely too much.”
“Maybe.”
He points at you accusingly with his cup. “Yuna corrupted you.”
“I think your crew just likes embarrassing you.”
“My crew enjoys violence.”
“And yet somehow you’re the one threatening to throw people overboard.”
Hyunjin groans softly under his breath while you finally laugh again.
The sound fills the cabin warmly.
Easier now.
Natural.
Hyunjin watches you through it with that same helpless softness that’s becoming harder and harder for either of you to ignore.
Dangerous.
Again.
“You really stayed,” he says quietly after a moment.
The teasing fades from his voice completely this time.
Leaving something more vulnerable underneath.
Your chest tightens slightly, “You sound surprised.”
Hyunjin looks down into his cup briefly.
“I think I expected you to disappear before morning.”
The honesty in the admission catches you off guard. Because somehow you hadn’t realized he’d been worrying about that too.
“I almost did,” you admit softly.
His eyes lift back toward yours immediately. “What stopped you?”
You should probably say: curiosity, exhaustion, the cinnamon rolls, the cat.
Instead, the truth slips out before you can stop it.
“You.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
Hyunjin stills completely across from you.
Like the word physically hit him somewhere important.
Your heartbeat starts stumbling almost immediately afterward.
Gods.
Why would you say that out loud?
“I just mean—” you start quickly.
“No,” Hyunjin says softly.
You stop.
His gaze doesn’t leave yours now.
Warm.
Careful.
Entirely too intense this early in the morning.
“Don’t take it back.”
Your breath catches slightly.
The room suddenly feels much smaller than before.
Hyunjin slowly sets his cup down on the desk beside him afterward without breaking eye contact once.
Then takes a small step closer.
Just one.
But your pulse reacts to it immediately anyway.
“You know,” he says quietly, “for someone who was terrified of humans yesterday…”
Another step.
“You’re getting very comfortable in a pirate captain’s cabin.”
Heat floods your chest instantly.
“That sounds criminal when you say it like that.”
Hyunjin laughs softly under his breath.
Close enough now that you can see the sleep still lingering faintly in his eyes.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Probably.”
Neither of you moves after that.
But the air changes anyway.
Something quieter settling between you both now.
Heavier.
Your eyes flick downward briefly.
His mouth.
Mistake.
Huge mistake.
Because when you look back up again, Hyunjin notices immediately. Of course he does.
His expression shifts almost imperceptibly afterward.
Softer.
Hungrier.
Your heartbeat becomes genuinely unbearable.
“You’re staring,” he murmurs quietly.
“You stare at me constantly.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Hyunjin’s mouth curves slightly, “I’m better at hiding it.”
The amusement in his voice softens the tension slightly, but not enough.
Not nearly enough.
Because he’s still standing too close now.
Close enough that you can feel warmth radiating from him in the cool morning air drifting through the cabin windows.
Close enough that if either of you leaned forward—
A loud crash suddenly echoes from somewhere above deck.
Followed immediately by yelling.
“THAT WASN’T MY FAULT!”
“YOU THREW A PAN AT ME!”
Hyunjin closes his eyes slowly, “I’m going to kill them.”
You laugh before you can stop yourself.
The tension snaps apart just enough for both of you to breathe again.
Barely.
Hyunjin shakes his head softly under his breath before glancing back toward the ceiling.
“I should probably make sure the ship is still functional.”
“Seems important.”
“Unfortunately.”
He doesn’t move immediately though.
Instead his eyes drift back toward you again.
Lingering.
Like he’s trying to memorize something.
Your stomach flips painfully beneath it.
“You can stay here if you want,” he says quietly.
“In your cabin?”
“It’s safer than dealing with my crew this early.”
“You make them sound feral.”
“That’s because they are.”
You smile faintly while Hyunjin reaches past you toward the edge of the bed to grab his coat.
His fingers brush your arm in the process.
Light.
Accidental.
Still enough to make your heartbeat trip over itself again.
Dangerous.
Again.
Hyunjin pauses too.
Just for a second.
His eyes flick toward where he touched you before lifting back to your face again.
Something shifts there briefly.
Wanting.
Real enough this time that it steals the breath directly from your lungs.
The moment stretches quietly between you.
Too close.
Too warm.
Too much.
Then—
“Captain!”
Hyunjin’s entire body goes rigid, “What?” he calls back flatly.
“Minho said if you don’t come upstairs right now he’s taking over navigation out of spite!”
A beat of silence.
“He wouldn’t do that,” Hyunjin mutters.
Another voice immediately shouts from above:
“HE ABSOLUTELY WOULD!”
Hyunjin sighs like a man carrying the weight of the world.
You’re openly laughing now, “Go save your ship, captain.”
He points at you once while heading toward the door.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
Hyunjin pauses with his hand on the door afterward.
Then glances back at you one more time.
And the softness returns immediately.
Warm enough to make your chest ache beneath it.
“Don’t disappear while I’m gone,” he says quietly.
The words land somewhere deep inside you before you can stop them from settling there.
Dangerous.
Very, very dangerous.
“…I won't,” you answer softly.
Hyunjin smiles.
Small.
Real.
Then disappears upstairs, leaving the cabin strangely quieter without him in it.
The silence after Hyunjin leaves feels strangely immediate.
Like the entire cabin notices his absence with you.
The ship creaks softly beneath your feet while muffled yelling continues somewhere overhead.
Human chaos. Constant.
You smile faintly to yourself before wandering slowly around the cabin instead.
It feels different looking at it now in daylight.
Smaller somehow. More personal. Less pirate captain.
More Hyunjin.
Your fingers brush lightly across the scattered maps on his desk first.
Messy handwriting curls across the edges alongside little ink marks and unfinished calculations.
One corner of the desk holds an untidy pile of rings he apparently removes whenever he remembers they exist.
There’s also: a compass, several loose coins, a dagger, and, strangely, a tiny carved wooden dolphin.
You pick it up carefully.
The carving is worn smooth around the edges like it’s been handled often.
Oddly cute.
Your chest warms unexpectedly.
A sudden knock interrupts your thoughts.
You nearly drop the dolphin immediately.
“Uh,” a voice, you actually recognize, says carefully from outside the door, “Captain said not to bother you but unfortunately we’re all extremely curious.”
Silence.
Then another voice:
“That was the worst possible way to start this conversation.”
“I’m trying my best!”
You blink toward the door uncertainly.
The crew.
Right.
Your stomach twists nervously again.
“We brought food?” the second voice offers hopefully.
You hesitate. Then slowly move toward the door.
When you open it carefully, three men immediately straighten outside like they’d been caught doing something illegal.
One of them you recognize instantly, Jisung.
Still looking far too excited about all of this.
Beside him stands a taller man with dimples and tired eyes carrying a tray, while another leans casually against the wall beside them watching the situation unfold with visible amusement.
All three stare at you for one long second.
Then: “Oh,” the taller one says softly.
“She’s real.”
Jisung looks offended immediately.
“I told you she was real.”
“You also said Captain looked ‘tragically in love,’” the other one points out.
“Which I stand by.”
“You told the crew that?” you ask in horror.
“In my defense,” Jisung says seriously, “it was incredibly obvious.”
“Jisung,” the taller man sighs, “you cannot tell strangers that our captain is in love with them.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
Your face immediately warms.
The third sailor snorts softly from beside the wall.
“He’s definitely doomed,” he says.
“See?” Jisung points triumphantly.
You’re beginning to understand why Hyunjin sounds exhausted constantly.
The taller sailor quickly steps forward afterward before the situation can somehow get worse.
“Sorry,” he says warmly. “I’m Chan.”
He gestures toward the others. “Unfortunately, those fools are Jisung and Changbin.”
“Rude,” Jisung mutters.
Changbin shrugs. “Accurate though.”
Chan carefully offers you the tray afterward. “Jisung said you might not know where the kitchen was yet.”
You carefully take the tray from Chan with a small smile. “Thank you.”
The three of them visibly relax almost immediately afterward.
Like they’d been worried you might slam the door in their faces.
Which honestly feels a little fair.
Chan smiles warmly once you take the tray from him.
“Okay,” he says softly, visibly relieved now. “Great. She likes us.”
“Barely,” Changbin mutters.
“I heard that.”
“Good.”
Jisung, meanwhile, is still staring at you with undisguised fascination.
“So,” he says carefully, “how exactly did Captain meet someone like you?”
You hesitate instantly.
Ah.
There it is.
The dangerous question.
“Jisung,” Chan warns.
“What? I’m being normal.”
“This is you being normal?”
“Unfortunately.”
You hide a small smile behind the edge of the cup Hyunjin left for you while Changbin watches the interaction beside the wall with visible amusement.
“To be fair,” he says casually, “we’re mostly shocked Hyunjin willingly spoke to someone.”
“He talks to you.”
Changbin looks deeply offended. “Debatable.”
Chan sighs like this conversation physically pains him. “Our captain has a reputation,” he explains carefully.
“For threatening people?” you guess.
“For avoiding people,” Chan corrects.
Jisung nods immediately. “Especially attractive people who are interested in him.”
“Jisung.”
“I’m helping establish context.”
Your eyes widen slightly, “…Really?”
Changbin snorts.
“Oh, absolutely.”
“The man once ignored an entire tavern after someone flirted with him too aggressively,” Jisung adds.
“That seems dramatic.”
“He’s deeply dramatic,” Changbin says.
“I am standing right here,” Hyunjin’s voice suddenly says from the hallway.
Every single person freezes.
Hyunjin stands near the doorway holding what looks suspiciously like a broken compass while staring at his crew with exhausted disappointment.
“We were being welcoming,” Chan says immediately.
“You were interrogating her.”
“Politely.”
Hyunjin narrows his eyes slightly, “That’s somehow worse.”
Jisung brightens instantly the second Hyunjin steps past them back inside.
“Captain, did you know she already figured out you’re obsessed with her?”
Silence.
Complete silence.
Hyunjin slowly closes his eyes.
“I’m begging you,” he says calmly. “Please learn fear.”
You’re trying very hard not to laugh again.
In which you're failing badly.
Hyunjin notices immediately, of course.
His expression softens the second he looks at you.
Automatically.
Like he genuinely can’t help it anymore.
The crew notices too. All three of them. At the exact same time.
Jisung looks seconds away from exploding.
Changbin immediately turns away to hide a grin.
Chan looks like a man finally understanding something important.
“Oh,” Chan says softly.
Hyunjin points at him instantly. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Hyunjin groans under his breath while setting the broken compass onto the desk beside you.
Then his eyes flick briefly toward the half-finished tea in your hands, then the tray of food on the side table.
“You ate yet?”
The question comes out quieter than everything else.
Gentler.
Concern wrapped so naturally into it that it catches you off guard slightly.
You nod once, “Your crew just brought it.”
“Against my better judgment,” Hyunjin mutters.
“You love us,” Jisung says immediately.
“Incorrect.”
“See?” Changbin says lightly to you. “This is how he flirts.”
Hyunjin looks moments away from sailing the ship directly into the sun.
“I hate every single one of you.”
“No you don’t,” Chan says calmly.
“Some of us maybe,” Changbin offers.
“Fair.”
Jisung gasps dramatically. “Captain admitted affection. Somebody write this down.”
Hyunjin grabs the nearest throw pillow and throws it directly at his head.
Jisung barely dodges it with a loud yelp while you laugh outright now, unable to stop yourself anymore.
The cabin immediately quiets for half a second afterward.
Because every single one of them looks toward you automatically.
Ah.
Right.
Humans do that.
Your smile falters slightly beneath the sudden attention.
Hyunjin notices instantly. Of course he does.
He shifts closer almost unconsciously, stepping between you and the rest of the room just enough to break the tension.
“Alright,” he says flatly. “You’ve all officially bothered her enough.”
“We literally just got here,” Jisung complains.
“And yet I’m already tired.”
Chan sighs softly before gesturing toward the door.
“Come on. Let’s leave the captain alone with his mysterious guest.”
“Future wife,” Jisung corrects automatically.
Hyunjin looks ready to commit murder.
“Go.”
Changbin is visibly trying not to laugh while Chan physically drags Jisung backward toward the hallway.
“You can’t silence the truth!” Jisung shouts dramatically as he disappears out the door.
“Watch me.”
The cabin door finally shuts behind them.
Silence settles immediately afterward.
Real silence this time.
Hyunjin exhales deeply beside you like a man barely surviving a natural disaster.
“I’m so sorry.”
You blink up at him.
“For what?”
“Everything.”
A laugh slips out of you again before you can stop it.
Hyunjin looks over immediately at the sound.
And there it is again.
That look.
Warm enough now that you’re beginning to feel it physically every time it lands on you.
“They’re not what I expected,” you admit softly.
Hyunjin leans lightly against the edge of the desk beside you.
“That’s usually people’s first mistake.”
“No,” you murmur, glancing toward the closed door thoughtfully. “I mean… they’re kind.”
The words leave the room quieter than expected.
Something shifts subtly across Hyunjin’s expression afterward.
Like the answer matters to him more than he anticipated.
“Yeah,” he says softly after a moment.
“They are.”
You look down at the cup between your hands again.
“I thought humans would feel…” You hesitate slightly. “Scarier.”
Hyunjin goes very still beside you.
The teasing disappears from his face entirely now.
“And now?”
Your heartbeat stumbles a little at how gently he asks it.
Honest.
Careful.
Like he genuinely wants to know.
You glance back up at him slowly.
“Now I think maybe I was taught to fear the wrong things.”
Silence.
Heavy this time.
Hyunjin stares at you for one long second afterward like the words physically knocked something loose inside him.
Then quietly: “You really shouldn’t say things like that to me.”
Your breath catches slightly.
“Why?”
Hyunjin’s eyes flick toward your mouth before returning to your eyes again.
Slow enough that you notice this time.
Intentional enough that your pulse immediately loses all stability.
“Because,” he says softly, stepping just a little closer again, “I already like you more than I’m supposed to.”
The confession settles between you both heavily.
Quietly.
Like something inevitable finally being spoken out loud.
Your heartbeat becomes almost unbearable beneath it.
Hyunjin watches your expression carefully afterward.
Not teasing now. Not hiding. Just honest.
Gods.
You don’t think anyone has ever looked at you this carefully before.
Like he’s trying to understand every thought crossing your face in real time.
“Maybe,” you say softly, “I also like you more than I’m supposed to.”
Something in Hyunjin’s expression breaks a little after that.
Not painfully.
Just...Gone.
Whatever restraint he’d still been clinging to loosens visibly.
His eyes drift slowly toward your mouth again.
This time neither of you pretends not to notice.
The air between you feels warmer suddenly. Smaller.
Your pulse stumbles harder the closer he gets.
One careful step.
Then another.
Close enough now that you can feel the warmth of his skin.
Close enough that your breathing starts matching unconsciously.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs softly.
The fact that he asks nearly undoes you more than the moment itself.
Because he would.
You know he would.
Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric of his sleeve.
“I don’t want you to.”
Hyunjin exhales shakily at the words.
Then his hand lifts carefully toward your face.
Slow enough for you to pull away.
Gentle enough that your chest aches beneath it.
His knuckles brush softly against your cheek first.
Warm. Reverent almost.
Like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real.
Your eyes flutter briefly at the touch.
Dangerous.
Very, very dangerous.
Hyunjin’s thumb slides lightly along your cheekbone afterward before settling carefully beneath your chin.
Tilting your face upward just slightly.
Giving you every possible chance to change your mind.
You don’t.
His forehead rests briefly against yours first.
The moment surprisingly soft.
Intimate in a way that steals the breath directly from your lungs.
You can feel him smiling faintly when he whispers:
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
Then he kisses you. Softly.
Like he’s been trying not to for days.
Warm lips brushing carefully against yours at first, almost hesitant despite everything else about him.
Your breath catches instantly.
The kiss deepens slightly the second you lean into it.
And Hyunjin makes the quietest sound against your mouth. Like that tiny bit of encouragement completely ruins him.
One hand settles carefully at your waist while the other remains against your face, holding you gently like something precious.
The tenderness of it nearly makes your chest ache.
Because you expected hunger, intensity, recklessness.
But this?
This feels devastatingly careful.
Like he’s kissing you with the same softness he’s looked at you with since the beginning.
Your fingers curl tighter into the front of his shirt instinctively, pulling yourself closer without even realizing it.
Hyunjin immediately responds. The kiss turns deeper afterward.
Slower.
Warmer.
His thumb brushes softly beneath your jaw while he kisses you like he’s trying to memorize the feeling of it already.
And somewhere between one breath and the next, you realize something terrifying; You don’t want to leave anymore.
He kisses you like he’s afraid of rushing you.
Like he’s spent days wanting this and still can’t quite believe it’s happening.
The realization makes your chest ache in ways that feel far more dangerous than the kiss itself.
Your fingers remain tangled loosely in the front of his shirt while his hand stays warm against your waist, grounding you every time your thoughts start drifting too far.
The ship rocks softly beneath you both.
Waves against the hull.
Distant gulls somewhere outside.
Everything else feels impossibly far away now.
Hyunjin pulls back only slightly after a moment, just enough for the two of you to breathe.
His forehead stays resting against yours.
Eyes still half-lidded. Lips still dangerously close.
“You’re real,” he murmurs quietly, almost to himself.
Heat floods your face immediately.
“That’s a strange thing to say after kissing someone.”
A soft laugh slips from him. Warm against your mouth.
“You know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, you do. Because this still feels a little unreal to you too.
A pirate captain.
A bakery.
Human laughter.
His hands on you.
Somehow your life became this.
Hyunjin studies your face quietly afterward like he’s still trying to understand how he got this lucky.
It makes your stomach twist nervously beneath his gaze.
“What?” you whisper.
His thumb brushes softly along your waist absentmindedly.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“Maybe.”
You smile faintly.
Hyunjin’s expression softens immediately at the sight of it.
There it is again.
That look that keeps undoing you completely.
“You keep doing that,” you murmur quietly.
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like that.”
Something quieter settles across his face afterward. More vulnerable than before.
“I can stop,” he says softly. The answer comes too quickly.
“Don’t.”
Hyunjin exhales shakily at the word. Like it affects him more than it should.
Then he kisses you again.
Slower this time. Less hesitant.
Like he’s finally letting himself enjoy it now that the line’s already been crossed.
Your hand slides upward instinctively, fingers brushing lightly through the hair at the back of his neck.
Hyunjin visibly melts beneath the touch.
The reaction immediate enough to make warmth bloom across your chest.
“Careful,” he murmurs softly against your lips.
“Why?”
His eyes lift toward yours again.
Darker now. Still soft.
But something else lingers there too.
Wanting.
“Because I’m trying very hard to behave right now.”
Your heartbeat nearly stops entirely.
The confession sends heat rushing through you instantly.
Hyunjin notices. Of course he does.
A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth afterward, softer now. More affectionate than teasing.
“You’re doing that thing again,” you whisper.
“What thing?”
“Looking too pleased with yourself.”
“Can you blame me?”
Your pulse stumbles embarrassingly hard beneath the warmth in his voice.
Hyunjin’s hand slides slightly higher along your waist before stopping himself deliberately.
The restraint somehow affects you more than if he hadn’t stopped at all.
Dangerous.
Again.
“You know,” he murmurs softly, “you’re significantly less afraid of me than you were when we first met”
“Maybe you stopped being scary.”
Hyunjin laughs quietly under his breath.
“Pretty sure I was never scary.”
“You’re literally a pirate captain.”
“And yet here you are.”
His forehead nudges lightly against yours again while his thumb traces absentminded circles against your side.
Comfortable now.
Familiar.
The intimacy of it settles deeply beneath your ribs.
You’ve known him for such a short amount of time.
And somehow it already feels like this.
Like your body recognizes him before your mind can catch up.
Hyunjin watches something shift across your face then, his expression softening immediately.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
Your eyes lift toward his.
“You alright?”
The concern in his voice is so genuine it almost hurts.
You nod slowly. “I think this is just… a lot.”
Understanding flickers across his expression instantly.
“Yeah,” he admits softly. “Me too.”
That makes you smile a little.
Because somehow you hadn’t considered the possibility that Hyunjin might feel just as overwhelmed by this as you do.
He smiles back immediately.
Warm enough to make your chest ache again.
“C’mere,” he murmurs quietly afterward.
Before you can fully process the words, Hyunjin gently pulls you closer against him until your head rests naturally beneath his chin.
His arms settle loosely around you.
No tension.
No pressure.
Just holding you.
The steady sound of his heartbeat fills the quiet cabin while the ship rocks softly beneath you both.
Safe.
The realization hits unexpectedly hard.
Hyunjin presses a soft kiss against the top of your head after a moment.
“You know,” he murmurs into your hair, “this is probably the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
You snort softly against his chest.
“That sounds dramatic.”
“I’m serious.”
“Because you kissed me?”
Hyunjin tilts his head slightly. “Because now I’m attached.”
Your heart genuinely hurts a little at the honesty in his voice.
He says things so simply sometimes.
Like they aren’t devastating at all.
Your fingers curl lightly into the fabric of his shirt.
“Good,” you whisper before you can stop yourself.
Hyunjin goes very still above you.
Then slowly tightens his arms around you just a little more.
The movement feels almost involuntary.
Like he couldn’t stop himself even if he tried.
Your cheek rests against his chest while the ship sways gently beneath you both, steady enough now that you barely notice the movement anymore.
Hyunjin’s heartbeat thuds slowly beneath your ear.
Calm.
Until your fingers absentmindedly trace along the fabric of his shirt.
Then suddenly, not calm at all.
A quiet laugh slips out of you before you can stop it.
Warm enough that you feel it vibrate through his chest.
“This is unfair,” he mutters.
“What is?”
“You.”
Heat creeps immediately into your face again.
Dangerous.
Again.
Hyunjin leans back slightly afterward, just enough to look down at you properly.
One hand lifts instinctively toward your face again, brushing a loose strand of hair carefully behind your ear.
The tenderness of it almost hurts.
“You know,” he says quietly, “I really did try not to do this.”
“Kiss me?”
His mouth curves softly. “Like you.”
Your breath catches slightly.
“That seems dramatic considering we officially met, what, four days ago?”
“Five.”
“You counted?”
Hyunjin looks completely unashamed.
“Obviously.”
Your heart nearly folds in on itself.
Because of course he counted. Of course he did.
Hyunjin watches your expression carefully afterward before smiling faintly to himself.
“There’s that look again.”
“What look?”
“The one where you realize you’re in trouble.”
You narrow your eyes slightly.
“I think you’re the one in trouble.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
The honesty in the answer makes you laugh softly.
Hyunjin’s gaze immediately drifts toward your mouth again at the sound.
Slower this time.
More deliberate.
Your pulse reacts instantly.
The room feels warmer suddenly.
Smaller.
Hyunjin notices every single change in your expression like he’s learned how to read you already.
“Tell me if I’m moving too fast,” he says quietly.
Your chest tightens painfully beneath the words.
Because even now
even like this
he’s still careful with you.
You shake your head slowly.
“You’re not.”
Something soft breaks across his face again.
Affection.
Relief.
Maybe both.
Then his hand slides gently beneath your jaw once more before he kisses you again. Deeper this time.
Not rushed.
Just wanting.
Honest wanting.
The kind that’s been building quietly between you since the moment he first looked at you in the ocean.
Somewhere outside the cabin, the ship shifts harder beneath your feet.
The movement pulls a quiet breath from Hyunjin before he reluctantly leans back slightly.
Not far.
Still close enough that his forehead brushes yours.
“I really do have responsibilities,” he murmurs softly, sounding deeply offended by the fact.
A smile slips across your face before you can stop it.
“Tragic.”
“You’re making fun of me in my own cabin.”
“You kissed me in your own cabin. I think we’re past formalities.”
Hyunjin stares at you for half a second afterward before laughing quietly under his breath.
Warm.
Real.
Your chest aches beneath the sound.
Then another rough shift rolls through the ship beneath you both.
Different this time.
Enough to pull Hyunjin’s attention immediately toward the windows.
And just like that —
he changes.
Not completely.
The softness never fully disappears around you now.
But something sharper settles into him almost instantly.
Hyunjin steps back toward the desk automatically, eyes flicking toward the darkening horizon outside while one hand reaches absentmindedly for the compass laying nearby.
“Is something wrong?” you ask quietly.
“Weather changed faster than I expected.”
Calm. Certain.
Somehow that affects you more than it should.
Hyunjin glances back toward you afterward, expression gentling again immediately. “Stay here for me?”
The request lands strangely warmly in your chest.
You nod once, “Okay.”
His shoulders loosen slightly at the answer.
Then he’s moving toward the door, already halfway back in captain mode before he even reaches it.
You follow a few moments later anyway. Quietly.
Curiosity pulling you upstairs despite yourself.
The second you step onto the deck, wind whips sharply across your skin. The crew moves quickly around the ship: tightening ropes, adjusting sails, securing loose cargo.
No panic. Just preparation.
And at the center of all of it: Hyunjin
You learn quickly that Hyunjin becomes a different person while captaining the ship.
Softer with you.
Sharper with everyone else.
Not cruel....just certain.
The crew follows him without hesitation, and somehow that affects you more than the kissing did.
“Secure the starboard side before the rain hits,” Hyunjin calls over the wind.
Immediate movement follows.
No questioning.
No panic.
Just trust.
The ship rocks harder beneath your feet while sailors move quickly around the deck, ropes tightening overhead as dark clouds gather heavier across the horizon.
You stay near the stairs at first, uncertain where exactly you’re supposed to stand without getting in the way.
Hyunjin notices anyway. Of course he does.
His eyes find you instantly despite everything else demanding his attention.
“You should be below deck,” Hyunjin says the second he notices you standing there.
“You said stay in the cabin,” you correct.
“That was before you ignored me.”
“You noticed surprisingly fast.”
Hyunjin gives you a look. “I notice everything on this ship.”
Dangerous.
Again.
Wind catches sharply against the sails overhead while another wave knocks against the side of the ship hard enough to make you stumble slightly.
Hyunjin’s hand catches your waist immediately.
Steady.
Familiar already.
Your breath catches embarrassingly fast beneath the warmth of his grip.
Hyunjin notices that too. Of course he does.
But instead of teasing you for it, his thumb brushes lightly against your side once before he reluctantly lets go again.
Captain first.
“Careful,” he murmurs quietly.
The concern in his voice settles warmly beneath your ribs despite the cold wind.
“You make this look easy,” you admit softly.
Hyunjin glances briefly toward the crew adjusting the sails overhead before looking back at you.
“It’s not.”
Honest. Simple.
Somehow that affects you more than confidence would have.
Chan appears beside the helm a moment later, calling something toward Hyunjin about changing currents.
Hyunjin’s attention sharpens instantly.
Not colder. Just focused.
You watch him move across the deck afterward: giving orders calmly, adjusting ropes himself when needed, steadying the younger sailors when the ship shifts too hard
Everyone watches him. Listens to him. Trusts him completely.
And somehow, standing here in the middle of rough water and growing storm clouds, you finally understand why.
Hyunjin doesn’t command the ship loudly.
He commands it like someone carrying responsibility carefully.
Like everyone onboard matters to him.
The realization settles heavily in your chest.
Because somehow that feels infinitely more dangerous than a pirate captain who only cared about himself.
Rain starts properly a few minutes later.
Cold droplets scatter across the deck while the crew moves faster beneath the darkening sky overhead.
You barely notice at first. Too distracted watching Hyunjin move through the chaos like he belongs inside it.
Until suddenly, warmth settles across your shoulders.
You blink in surprise.
Hyunjin’s coat.
He’s already pulling away before you fully process it.
“You’re freezing,” he says simply.
“What about you?”
Hyunjin glances toward the storm clouds once before tightening a rope beside the mast.
“I’ve dealt with worse.”
Captain.
Again.
Your fingers tighten unconsciously around the fabric of his coat while ocean wind whips harder across the ship.
And beneath all of it, something uneasy twists low in your stomach.
The sea feels wrong.
Not rough.
Not dangerous in the normal way storms usually are.
Just....wrong.
The feeling crawls beneath your skin slowly, instinctive enough that it makes your stomach tighten before your mind can fully understand why.
Another wave crashes hard against the side of the ship.
Your eyes immediately snap toward the water.
Too dark. Too restless.
Like the ocean itself is agitated by something deeper beneath it.
The wind sharpens again. Cold enough now that it bites against your skin through the heavy rain.
Around you, the crew continues moving quickly across the deck, focused entirely on the storm building overhead.
They can only see the surface of it.
Your heartbeat stumbles unevenly.
Because whatever this feeling is, it’s underneath.
“Hey.”
Hyunjin’s voice cuts through your thoughts immediately.
You look up too quickly.
His expression changes the second he sees your face.
Concern replacing focus almost instantly.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you answer automatically.
Hyunjin gives you a look.
One that very clearly says,
absolutely not.
Rain drips slowly from his dark hair while he steps closer, lowering his voice despite the chaos around you both.
“You’ve been staring at the water for the last five minutes.”
Your stomach tightens slightly.
Because of course he noticed.
“I just…” You hesitate, glancing back toward the ocean again. “Something feels strange.”
Hyunjin follows your gaze automatically.
The ship rocks harder beneath your feet.
This time you barely notice.
“Strange how?”
You struggle briefly for the words.
“The ocean feels…” Your brows pull together. “Agitated.”
Hyunjin’s expression stills slightly. Not panic.
Worse.
Recognition.
“You can feel that?” he asks quietly.
Your eyes flick back toward him immediately, “You can’t?”
Another silence settles between you.
Wind screams sharply through the sails overhead.
Hyunjin studies your face carefully for a second before glancing back toward the water again.
Thinking now. Calculating.
But when he looks back at you again, the softness returns immediately beneath it all.
“Okay,” he says calmly.
Too calmly.
Your chest tightens.
“Hyunjin.”
He steps closer before you can spiral any further, one steady hand settling against your waist again despite the crew surrounding you.
Grounding.
“Hey,” he says softly over the storm. “Look at me.”
You do.
“Whatever this is,” he murmurs carefully, “I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
The promise settles heavily somewhere deep inside your chest.
Dangerous.
Again.
Except this time, it doesn’t feel dangerous because of him.
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Synopsis: While everyone else in the office avoids Minho like he’s radioactive, you have a secret crush on him and you think it’s stupid as he’d never feel the same… or so you think. (6,2k words)
Author's note: Happiest birthday to the guy with a strong black cat energy 🐈⬛
When the company you worked for merged with another, you expected new rules, new systems, maybe even new friendships.
What you didn’t expect was Minho.
The first time you saw him, you thought he was simply the type who wore his seriousness like his suit jacket—stiff, formal, but nothing a smile couldn’t soften. You’d always believed people had gentler sides waiting to be uncovered, so you gave him the benefit of the doubt.
A week into working alongside him, you learned that’s just how he is. Sharp words cut through the air like knives when he caught a junior making a mistake. He didn’t yell, but the low, pointed tone was enough to freeze everyone within earshot. A misplaced report, a late submission, even a typo—Minho noticed it all, and he wasn’t afraid to call people out on it.
Soon, people began steering clear of him like he was a ticking bomb. Words spread across the office—cold, harsh, distant. You should have joined them in keeping your head down, but instead you found yourself watching him.
In the same week you worked alongside him, you also learned something no one knows about Minho. Behind every cutting remark, he was precise. Behind every scolding, there was a strange kind of care—because he wanted things done right, not out of cruelty, but out of pride for the work itself. His standards were high, but he held himself to them, too.
And what began as respect, an admiration for his dedication, slowly grew into something else. Something you didn’t dare say out loud.
Because somewhere between watching him stay late nights to finish projects and catching rare glimpses of him rubbing his tired eyes when he thought no one was looking, your admiration twisted into a secret crush.
-
The weekly strategy meeting—usually a blur of charts and numbers—feels different the moment Minho speaks.
He sits across the long table, posture straight, every word rolling off his tongue clear and precise. He doesn’t stumble, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t second-guess himself. His voice carries with it a weight that demands attention, and everyone in the room listens.
You try to look casual, but your eyes keep drifting to the way his crisp white shirt stretches neatly across his shoulders, to the silky blue tie that looks far too elegant for such a dull Monday, to the way he leans forward slightly when he’s emphasizing a point. Eloquence drips from every sentence, intelligence carved into the lines of his expression.
You can almost feel yourself melting into your chair just watching him. How is it fair that someone so stern, so terrifying to others, can be so impossibly attractive to you?
All of a sudden, Minho’s eyes flick your way. Sharp, direct, like he knows.
Your heart skips a beat and heat rushes to your face as you quickly duck your head, scribbling nonsense into your notes just to look busy as if you weren’t just openly staring at him a second ago. You pray he didn’t notice. You pray the room is too full, too loud, that you’re nothing more than another coworker in his periphery.
But even as you keep your head down, the image of him—confident, composed, devastatingly beautiful in that blue tie—burns behind your eyes.
-
Not long after the meeting wrapped up, your landline rings and you pick it up. It’s a muscle memory at this point.
The secretary ditches formality and goes straight to the point. “The director wants to see you.”
There’s no need to respond anyway. When the director calls, you come even though the summon usually means extra work, and sure enough, when you step into the office, you find Minho already there, sitting opposite her, one leg crossed over the other, looking maddeningly composed.
“Ah, you’re here,” the director says, gesturing for you to sit. “I’ll get straight to the point. They moved up the new product presentation to tomorrow so I asked Minho to prepare the initial draft. But…”
She briefly glances at him and Minho’s lips curl into the faintest smirk.
“I can’t do it alone.” His voice is even, but there’s something in the way he says it—like he’s already a step ahead. “This project is too detailed for one person to handle without risking mistakes.”
The director nods in agreement. “That’s why I want you to work with him. Tonight, if possible. The draft needs to be on my desk first thing tomorrow morning.”
Tonight? With him? Just the two of you? You can feel your pulse pick up.
Minho turns his head, and his gaze lands on you. His eyes don’t waver, don’t soften—just steady, dark, unwavering. But beneath the formality, there’s something else there. Something that feels like… anticipation. Almost like he’s curious to see what you’ll say. Almost like he’s looking forward to it.
You swallow air, suddenly aware of how loud your heartbeat sounds in your own ears. Being alone with Minho… the thought is equal parts terrifying and thrilling. You’re not sure you’re ready for whatever comes with it.
Then again, this is work. A task directly handed to you by your superior. You can’t say no.
So you straighten in your seat, clear your throat, and force out, “Of course. We’ll get it done tonight.”
The director smiles, relieved. “Good. I’ll leave it in your hands then.”
When you rise to leave, Minho does too. As you pass each other in the doorway, his arm brushes against yours—light, fleeting, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. And then, in the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest trace of a grin tugging at his lips.
-
The office begins to empty as the evening creeps in. Desks that buzzed with chatter just hours ago now fall silent, one by one. You’re still at your computer, finishing up a few loose ends, when a co-worker passing by pauses at your desk.
“Hey, you’re not leaving?” she asks, slipping her bag over her shoulder.
You shake your head with a small smile. “No. I’ve got to work late tonight… with Minho.”
Her eyebrows jump and then she leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice so no one else can hear. “Good luck.”
Before you can reply, she slips away with a knowing shake of her head. You exhale slowly, sinking back into your chair and stretching your arms above your head, shoulders loosening from a day of tension.
The quiet is almost soothing until you catch the sound of footsteps approaching. You glance up to find Minho stands beside your desk.
“What do you want to do?” he asks, voice low but steady. Then with deliberate motions, he undoes the buttons at his wrists and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. The fabric slides back, revealing the lean lines of his forearms.
You straighten, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “We should probably divide the tasks,” you suggest, trying to keep your voice even. “That way, we won’t overlap.”
You try to focus on his words as he talks about a way to divide the task but your eyes keep drifting down to the veins coiling beneath his skin, prominent with each flex of his hand as he smooths the sleeve into place. It’s such a simple movement, ordinary even, but it makes your stomach flip in a way it shouldn’t.
“...and you can handle the visuals,” he finishes.
You force your gaze back up to his face, hoping he didn’t notice the split-second detour of your eyes. “Right. The visuals. I can do that,” you answer a little too quick, a little too casual.
He tilts his head just slightly, studying you with that unreadable expression and then, as if nothing happened, he nods and sits down, pulling his laptop closer.
It’s just you and him in the office tonight. And you know it’s going to be harder than ever to concentrate tonight.
-
Minutes stretch into hours and you’ve buried yourself deep into your slides, eyes locked on the screen, pen tucked between your teeth as you work through numbers and charts.
But even in your focus, thoughts of coffee creep in. Your body aches for the warmth, the caffeine, the small break, the excuse to stretch your legs. You hesitate, though. Should you offer to make one for Minho too? Would he even want you to? He doesn’t exactly seem like the type who accepts favors easily.
You nibble the cap of your pen, debating on it, until the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. You can’t shake the feeling that he’s looking at you.
Slowly, you turn your head and sure enough, Minho’s eyes are already on you. Not casually, not by accident—just steady, dark, fixed in your direction.
You force your voice low, hesitant, as if the silence between you might break if you speak too loudly. “I… I was going to make coffee. Do you want one too?”
For a heartbeat, he doesn’t answer. He just holds your gaze, like he’s searching for something behind your question. Then, finally, his lips part. “Yeah, sure.”
He doesn’t look away, not even once, and it makes your chest flutter in a way that feels dangerous.
You clear your throat, breaking the spell, and push back your chair. The scrape of its legs against the floor sounds louder than it should. With shaky hands, you gather yourself, stand, and head for the pantry, your pulse quickening with each step, as if you’re fleeing from the pull of his gaze.
The coffee machine whirs as you press the power button on and it’s the only sound that fills the pantry. You stand in front of it, arms raised as your fingers knead into the tense muscles of your neck. A sigh slips from your lips, low and drawn out, almost a moan, as you try to ease the ache from sitting at your desk too long.
“Oh, that felt good…” you murmur under your breath, pressing harder on the tension on your shoulder.
The sound of footsteps makes you jolt and you quickly turn on your feet, eyes widening when you see Minho standing at the doorway with his hand tucked in his slacks pocket.
“Why are you so surprised?” he asks evenly, a brow quirked.
You shake your head too fast, clutching for composure. “N–Nothing.”
The smirk that curls on his lips tells you he doesn’t buy it. It’s small, sly, almost like he’s reading straight through your lie. He steps further inside, leaning against the counter with infuriating ease, arms crossed over his chest. His head tilts, his gaze steady, following your every movement as you fumble with the machine like it suddenly became rocket science.
Then, out of nowhere, his voice cuts through the silence. “Am I scary?”
The question makes you laugh awkwardly, too quickly, like it’s a ridiculous thing to ask. “What? No, of course not.” You wave a hand, trying to dodge it, but your laugh dies a little too soon.
Minho doesn’t move but his eyes sharpen. “I know everyone in the office is scared of me,” he says simply, like he’s stating a fact.
You shake your head, stubborn. “They just don’t know you the way they should.”
His gaze lingers, piercing through you, holding you in place. “What about you?” His voice drops lower, intimate in a way that makes the room feel smaller. “Are you scared of me?”
The words trip out of you instantly, almost desperately. “No.”
But your smile is too quick, too awkward, as though you’re trying to hide something.
He studies you, silent for a long beat. Then he nods slowly, almost like he’s solved a puzzle. “You’re not scared of me,” he says at last. “But you’re afraid of me.”
His eyes lock on yours, unwavering, and you feel yourself unraveling under his intense stare. He’s too close to the truth, too close to the secret you’ve been keeping.
Panic, you abandon the half-brewed coffee and turn on your heel. “I’d better get back to work,” you mutter in a rush, desperate to escape.
But you barely make it two steps before his voice snaps across the room. “You like me, don’t you?”
You can feel the blood drains from your face as your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. The silence that follows is deafening, your halted body betraying you more than any words could.
Behind you, Minho exhales a laugh—low, knowing, edged with triumph. “Don’t bother denying it. I can see it all over you.”
You walk fast, your heels clicking against the floor as if putting distance between you and Minho could erase what just happened. But the office is nearly empty, and the echo of his footsteps follows close behind, relentless.
You make it to your desk and try to busy yourself by tidying the cluttering pens and papers,. But of course, it’s useless because his desk is right across from yours. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide until the task is done and Minho knows it.
“I’ve noticed the things you do when you think I’m not looking,” he says from behind you. His smooth, low voice peeling away your defenses.
“The way you stare at me in meetings. That little look you give me when you think I’m too busy to notice. You chew your lip when I speak, like you’re holding something back. And just now…” His tone dips lower, velvet wrapped around steel. “…that face you made when I caught you in the pantry.”
You squeeze your eyes shut as embarrassment and frustration mixing until you can’t take it anymore. You spin in your chair, facing him head-on, your words spilling out before you can stop them.
“Yeah, okay, I like you.”
The confession slices through the silence and for a moment, the world holds still. Then, slowly, a smirk curves across Minho’s lips. He steps closer, closing the space between you with unhurried strides.
“Want to know something?” His eyes glint, dark with something you’ve never seen in him before. “I can actually do this job myself.”
Your lips quiver as you mutter, “What?”
He plants a hand on the edge of your desk, leaning in. “I asked for you because I wanted to be alone with you.”
Before you can react, he presses a hand against the desk beside your hip, then the other, caging you in. The wooden surface digs into your back as his body looms over yours, close enough that you feel the heat radiating from him.
You’re pinned, trapped, your pulse hammering in your throat. His eyes sweep over your face, lingering like he’s quietly measuring you, observing you and then he smiles—not cruel, not mocking, but dangerous in its certainty.
“Now that I’ve got you…” his voice drops, low and intimate, “…what should I do with you?”
The smirk on his lips deepens, and for a moment you swear you see something feral flicker in his eyes.
Your lips part, trying to come up with an excuse, or shift the attention back to the task at hand, just anything to escape this situation but before any words can leave your mouth, he crashes his lips against yours.
The kiss is harsh, searing, all teeth and tongue and pent-up tension. The papers you’re holding slip from your hands and scatter across the floor as you clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer. He presses you harder against the desk, one hand gripping your jaw to tilt your face, forcing you to open for him as his tongue claims yours without hesitation.
When he finally pulls back, your lips are wet, swollen, your breath shaky. Then his voice dips into a growl.
“We could’ve had this all along.”
Before you can respond, his hand skims down your waist, sliding under the hem of your blouse, fingers teasing the bare skin of your stomach. Your back arches involuntarily, a needy sound slipping past your lips, and that’s all the permission he needs. He dips his head, capturing your mouth again, deeper this time, hungrier.
The constant hum of the computer fills the silence between gasps and muffled moans as he devours you, his hands roaming shamelessly now, palming your waist, cupping your ass, pulling you flush against the hard press of his body.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he mutters against your lips, biting at your lower one before sucking it into his mouth.
You’re dizzy, drunk on him, your fear completely eclipsed by the way he’s kissing you like he’s starved, like he’s wanted this just as badly.
“Minho—” you sigh between kisses, but the words die as he lifts you onto the desk, scattering pens and files onto the floor.
He steps between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs. “Here,” he says, voice rough, dark. “We’re doing it here.”
Your body already trembling at his words. “Here, what? Why… here?”
A smirk curls his lips as he leans in, his mouth ghosting over your ear. “Because I want you to remember this every time you sit at this desk. I want you to think about me fucking you so good you can’t focus on your work.”
Heat floods all over you at his words, your stomach twisting with anticipation. You try to hide your shiver, but his knowing grin tells you he noticed.
He doesn’t give you time to protest as his mouth crashes against yours again, hungrier than before, his hands sliding up your thighs until his fingers slip beneath your skirt, dragging the fabric higher.
The desk creaks beneath your shifting weight as his palm cups you over your panties, and you can’t hold back the gasp that escapes your lips. He swallows it eagerly, deepening the kiss as his fingers press harder, teasing your clothed sex until your hips are rocking against his hand.
“Already so wet,” he murmurs against your lips, smug, savoring every sound you make. “You wanted this too, didn’t you? Sitting across from me all day, pretending you weren’t staring.”
You bite your lip, unable to deny him. Your silence only makes his grin widen, his fingers curling around your panties to tug them aside.
The office is quiet, eerily so but the thought of someone maybe being just down the hall makes every touch feel dirtier, hotter. Without warning, Minho slips his fingers inside you, stretching you slowly. The sudden intrusion makes your mouth fall open, a sharp moan escaping before you can stop it. The sound echoes too loud in the empty office, and Minho’s eyes go wide. In an instant, his other hand clamps over your mouth, muffling the desperate sound you let out. But there’s a flicker of amusement behind his eyes like he enjoys how reckless you are for him.
“Shh,” he whispers low, his voice hot against your ear. “You want the whole building to hear how needy you are?”
You shake your head quickly, but it doesn’t stop the way your body clenches around his fingers as he pumps them deeper. He curls them just right, dragging out another muffled whimper that vibrates against his palm.
The sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor. It must be the security guard doing their round. Panic sparking in you, your wide eyes meet his, but Minho just smirks like this is all part of his game. He slows his pace, almost lazy now, each thrust of his fingers driving you insane while his hand stays firmly over your mouth.
“Quiet,” he breathes, his lips brushing your cheek as he leans in closer. “Be good for me. Don’t make a sound.”
The footsteps come closer, so close you swear they’ll stop at your door. Minho’s eyes stay locked on yours the whole time, his fingers never stopping, his expression daring you to hold it together.
Your chest heaves as the guard’s shadow passes by, lingering for a second that feels like eternity… before moving on.
Only when the steps fade away does Minho finally ease his hand from your mouth, his fingers glistening as he pulls them from your cunt. He brings them up between you, studying the shine with a crooked grin before slipping them past his lips, sucking them clean like he’s savoring you.
“Who needs coffee when I have this,” he says, his voice husky, gaze dark as he looks at you trembling on your own desk.
Then his hands are on you again, this time reaching for your blouse, unbuttoning it open but his patience wears thin on the third one so he yanks it open, the buttons scatter across the floor.
“You…” his voice is low and rough, as his eyes rake down your body, “…you hide this under those boring office clothes?”
He mutters it like he’s cursing himself for not noticing sooner, his fingers already tearing at your blouse, ripping the thin fabric open until your bra is exposed. His breaths quickening as he pushes the fabric aside to bare your skin.
“Fuck,” he exhales, almost reverent, running his hand down the front of your body.
Minho doesn’t waste time. He’s tugging at your skirt now, shoving it up around your hips, his fingers digging into your thighs. His eyes burn as he takes in the sight of you spread out across your desk, your clothes clinging in pieces.
“This…” he mutters, almost to himself as his hands trace the curve of your waist, your breasts. “This is what I’ve been missing?”
His mouth finds your skin then, hot and demanding, biting at your collarbone before dragging his lips down your chest. Each mutter against your flesh is half-groan, half-praise, as if he’s talking more to himself than to you.
“Hmm… Perfect,” he breathes, tugging your bra down and cupping your breast in his hand, squeezing like he needs to prove you’re real. His tongue flicks over your nipple, and his muffled voice groans against it, “Absolutely perfect.”
Minho doesn’t rush even though you can feel how badly he wants to. His hands are everywhere, greedy and rough, but his pace is agonizingly slow, like he wants to unravel you piece by piece.
“You know what’s fucked up?” he murmurs against your skin, his lips grazing the underside of your breast before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hand slides down your stomach, fingers circling just above your waistband, teasing but never quite touching where you need him most.
“The whole office is terrified of me…” he chuckles darkly, dragging his teeth over your nipple until you gasp, “…but if they saw you like this? Spread out, dripping for me on your desk? They’d know who really has the power over me.”
Your body arches, chasing his hand, but he pulls back, shaking his head with a wicked grin. “Not yet.”
His fingers finally dip under your skirt, brushing over your soaked panties. The low groan he lets out vibrates against your chest. His thumb presses harder on your clothed clit, making you whine.
“Beg for it,” he demands, slipping one finger beneath the fabric but not inside. He drags it up your slit, collecting your slick, then holds it up for you to see glistening under the dim office light. “Beg for me to touch you.”
You try to buck against him, but he pins your hips to the desk with a firm hand, his smirk growing as you squirm. “God, you look so hot like this. All dressed up, torn open, begging me to ruin you.”
His finger dips in just the slightest, barely pushing past your entrance before pulling out again, making you whimper. He leans close to your ear, his voice husky as he whispers, “I’m going to make sure every time you sit at this desk, you’ll remember how desperate you were for me.”
His words, the way he said it while intensely gazing into your eyes, it undoes something in you. Shakily, breathlessly, you mutter, “Minho, please…”
He triumphantly smirks and without another ounce of restraint, he pushes two fingers inside you in one smooth thrust. The sudden stretch makes you cry out, but the sound barely leaves your mouth before he clamps his other hand over it, muffling you.
“Shhh,” he warns, his breath hot against your cheek. “You don’t want them finding out what a needy little slut you are for me, do you?”
His fingers work inside you relentlessly, curling just right, pumping faster each time you clench around him. The wet sounds echo indecently in the quiet office, and you can feel yourself unraveling quickly, the tension winding in your belly like a spring about to snap.
He watches your face intently, eyes dark and burning with hunger. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight. You gonna come for me? Right here on your desk?”
You nod frantically, your muffled whimpers spilling against his palm. He leans closer, whispering filth into your ear as his thumb finds your clit and presses down. “Do it. Make a mess for me. I want to see you fall apart.”
The combination of his filthy words, the ruthless rhythm of his fingers, and the dangerous thrill of being caught sends you tumbling over the edge. Your whole body shakes, convulsing around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash through you. He holds you firmly, hand still over your mouth as your muffled cries vibrate against his palm.
Minho groans low in his throat, watching the way you shudder and spasm for him. He doesn’t stop until you’re a trembling, breathless mess slumped against your desk. He doesn’t give you a moment to recover as he grips your waist and pulls you off the desk, turning you around, making you face the desk. “Bend over,” he orders, voice like gravel. His hand presses between your shoulder blades until your chest meets the cool surface of your desk, your skirt bunched indecently around your hips.
He lets you go but then you hear the clinking of metal and then zipper being pulled open from behind you, heightening the tension in the room. The next time he has your hands on you again, you feel the thick head of his cock sliding against your soaked entrance, smearing your slick across your folds. He doesn’t push in all the way, just the tip breaching you, then pulling out again, over and over, until you’re whining with frustration.
“Please…”
“Please?” He leans down over you, lips brushing your ear, his cock nudging just barely inside before retreating again. “You think you’re ready to take all of me? Hm?”
You arch your back, desperate, your fingers clawing at the desk. “Yes—fuck, yes.”
He chuckles darkly, savoring your begging as he pushes in just a little deeper, stretching you slow, inch by inch. The burn makes you gasp, your body instinctively clenching around him.
“God,” he hisses through gritted teeth, pausing to control himself. “So fucking tight. You feel like you’re going to tear me apart.”
You whimper, pushing back against him, but he grips your hips hard, refusing to let you take more than what he allows. His cock slides another inch deeper, the pace slow, almost torturous.
“Slow down, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing the back of your neck like a cruel comfort. “I want you to feel every single inch of me. I want you to remember this stretch every time you sit at this desk.”
By the time he finally bottoms out, the pressure is overwhelming, your walls pulsing around the fullness of him. He stays buried deep, not moving, forcing you to take the sensation of being completely filled. Then, he pulls back just slightly, only to push it in, hard. You cry out, the sound muffled by your own arm as you bury your face in it.
Minho smirks in satisfaction. “Oh, yeah. That’s the sound I’ve been dying to hear.”
For a moment, he holds himself deep inside you, his thrusts slow yet intense, dragging against every nerve ending. His hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he leans down, his mouth grazing your ear.
“You know how many days I sat across from you at this desk,” he murmurs, hips rocking just enough to make you gasp, “watching those perfect little legs of yours cross and uncross? Made me want to rip that skirt off and see what was underneath.”
You clench around him at his words, and he groans, gripping your hips tighter. He pulls back and slides in again, slow enough to make your toes curl.
“And that tight skirt,” he continues, voice dripping with filth, “hugging your hips, your ass—fuck, every curve showing, but just out of reach. Do you know how hard it was not to bend you over and take you right then?”
Your moan slips out before you can stop it, your face pressing harder into the desk to stifle the sound. Minho smirks against your skin, picking up just a little more pace but still keeping it torturously measured.
“And when you’d sit there,” he says, remembering in vivid detail, “biting your pencil between your teeth as you thought? Drove me fucking insane. All I could think about was how those lips would look wrapped around my cock, how you’d sound with your mouth full.”
You whine, your body trembling, and he growls low in his chest, clearly loving your reaction.
“But the worst,” he groans, thrusting in slow and deep, making your knees buckle, “the worst was wondering what kind of sounds you’d make when I finally got inside you. I used to sit across from you every day, imagining your moans, wondering if you’d be sweet and needy…” His thrust punctuates each filthy word. “…or if you’d scream for me.”
Your walls flutter around him at his confession, and he curses, kissing the side of your neck as though he can’t help himself. “And now I get to find out. Every fantasy—right here, on your desk.”
Your whole body shudders, the tension breaking all at once as his filthy words unravel you. You cry out his name and it’s echoing too loudly in the quiet office. His hand clamps over your mouth instantly, muffling the sounds as your orgasm tears through you, walls spasming around his cock.
“Fuck,” he groans into your ear, holding himself deep inside as he feels you pulse around him. “You really came just from that?” He chuckles low, dark and smug, his hand still pressed against your lips. “All it took was me telling you how I’ve been thinking about you and you’re already falling apart for me.”
Your muffled whimper makes him smirk even more. He pulls his hand away just long enough to whisper, “Pathetic little thing, aren’t you?” before replacing it again when another moan escapes.
Instead of slowing down, his thrusts grow harder, deeper, relentless, each one knocking the breath from your lungs. Your body’s already oversensitive, still reeling from the orgasm he just pulled out of you, but he doesn’t give you time to recover.
“You came a second ago but your cunt’s still clinging to me like it’s begging for more.”
Your mouth falls open in a cry, but it barely escapes before his hand presses over your lips again, muffling your sounds.
The office is silent except for the wet slap of his hips against you and your muffled moans. He pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in, burying himself to the hilt. “That’s it. Take it,” he growls. “Every time you sit at this desk, you’ll remember how I fucked you senseless on it.”
Your body trembles, pleasure coursing through your veins until it’s unbearable. You try to hold it back, but the pressure coils tight and fast, snapping all over again.
You convulse around him, muffled cries spilling against his palm as your second orgasm crashes through you, harder than the first. Your knees buckle, your nails scrape across the desk, and he groans deep in his chest as your walls clamp down around his cock.
“Fuck—there it is. That’s it. That’s my good girl,” he hisses, thrusting through your climax, dragging out every pulse, every flutter. “I’m not stopping until you’re dripping all over this desk for me.”
Your body jerks, overstimulated, yet the heat won’t let go. He doesn’t give you a break, using your quaking, trembling body to chase his own edge, rutting into you like he owns you. His breath fans hot against your ear as he leans over you, chest pressing into your back, his hand sliding up to tangle in your hair and tilt your head so you can’t escape the rasp of his voice.
“You could’ve told me,” he says, almost scolding, but with a hint of hunger in it. “All this time, you were sitting across from me, looking at me like that… and I had no idea you wanted me too.”
Your mouth parts, words caught in your throat as your body clenches tight around him at the confession. He lets out a dark chuckle, dragging his cock all the way out before sinking back into you slow, making you feel every inch of his swollen length.
“If you’d told me sooner,” he continues, his pace torturously unhurried, “we could’ve been fucking each other’s brains out every night by now.” His hand slides down your side, squeezing your waist before dipping between your thighs, his fingers pressing against your swollen clit. “All those nights you went home aching for me? You could’ve been screaming my name instead.”
You shiver under him, the words, the rhythm, the overwhelming stretch of him inside you—every part of it coils together until you’re trembling on the edge again.
Suddenly, his tone shifts softer. His lips brush the back of your neck, then your jaw, before he finds your mouth and kisses you. Slow, sweet, devastating in contrast to how he’s been fucking you.
“I’m going to take my time with you,” he murmurs against your lips, his thrusts still rolling steady yet deep, each one more intense for its restraint. “Scares you a little, doesn’t it?” He smirks when your body clenches, when you nod against him. “Good. I want you excited. I want you desperate.”
The push and pull, the sweet kiss and the filthy words, it’s all too much. Your body arches into him, your legs trembling as his thrusts finally grow just a little rougher, just enough to drive him to the edge. He buries himself deep inside you one last time, his hand gripping your hip as he groans, spilling his seed into you.
The sound of his raw, broken groan of your name, echoing in your head long after the moment passes.
He stays buried in you, his chest pressed to your back, both of you breathing hard, bodies damp with a sheen of sweat. Then, slowly, he pulls out. The stretch makes you gasp, and the emptiness leaves you trembling. You barely have time to catch your breath before you feel the warmth spilling down your thigh, his release sliding out of you in a messy trail.
Minho leans back just enough to watch, his dark eyes fixed on the sight. His lips curve into a wicked smirk, and he lets out a low, satisfied hum.
“Fuck. Didn’t expect to see you like this,” he mutters, dragging his thumb along the curve of your hip possessively. His gaze never leaves the way you’re dripping for him. “Ruined and dripping for me… on your own desk.”
The office feels too quiet now, the hum of fluorescent lights a reminder of where you are and the stack of unfinished files is still scattered on the desk beneath you.
When he finally meets your eyes again, there’s no teasing in his stare, just a quiet, dangerous claim.
“You’re mine now. Every time you sit here…” his hand cupping your jaw, forcing you to look back into his eyes. “…you’ll remember who you belong to.”
-
The next day, everything at the office feels the same on the surface but you both know it’s not.
You’re at your desk, leaning forward slightly as you skim something on your computer screen, unaware of the eyes burning into you.
Minho sits across the room, looking as composed as ever to everyone else. But inside, he’s replaying that night in vivid detail—the way you clutched the desk, the way you cried out his name, the way his release dripped down your thighs.
He pushes back his chair and strolls toward you, his expression perfectly neutral, nothing to raise suspicion. He stops at your side, one hand braced casually on the desk as if to ask about the document you’re reading. But beneath the facade, he places his other hand on the curve of your ass, hidden from everyone else’s view.
He leans down, close enough that only you can hear him, and whispers in that low, dangerous tone. “If you keep bending over like that, I’ll take it as a sign you want another round right here.”
His hand slowly strokes over the round of your ass before he pulls back, face still blank, as if he only asked about numbers on a spreadsheet. He walks away like nothing happened, leaving you there, outwardly composed but inwardly seething with need, already plotting when he’ll get you alone again.
-
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can anyone help me find this leeknow x bridgerton au that was recently released? i accidentally clicked "not interested" instead of "copy link" and now i couldn't find it anymore 🥹🥹🥲
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just passing by in your ask before reading the new han series and the sunday snack CAUSE I WANT YOU TO GO INSANE WITH ME WITH THIS CHRISTOPHER PIC. HAVE A GOOD DAY EFF!
GIRL ✋🏻
Let me tell you what just happened. You know I was reblogging some stuff earlier then I opened your ask and I was like waiting for the pic to load and then a moment later, my laptop freezes and that's why it took me long to reply to this ask, I had to reboot my laptop (also to try and gain my composure) and I think my laptop just couldn't handle the hotness (literally and figuratively) and looking at this pic I was like that one cannibal friend of Jake Peralta in Brooklyn 99 where he said "I'd love to get my little fingies to some chesties" or something along those lines cause man those tiddies...... i'm craving milk suddenly 🤤
your laptop saw it first and tweaked cause i did too 🤣 TWO CONSECUTIVE DAYS HE WAS A SEE THROUGH MY HEART IS NOT FINE! and also those tiddies seem heavy, maybe we can hold one each for him 🤭🫣
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
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