wxnderland

“Your call has been forwarded to voice mail. Please try again later…”

Disappointment fills your chest as a sigh bubbles up from the depths of them. This was ridiculous, you vehemently thought as you paced around your living room, tossing your phone haphazardly on your couch, not even caring where it landed. Everything about this was ridiculous.

For weeks, you’ve been on the hunt for a job after your last one didn’t work out the way you panned it out to be. It was a lot more frustrating than you would’ve liked it to be because it was like staring out into the void - a whole lot of nothing. It wasn’t like you didn’t try either; you’ve been quite diligent at submitting resumés literally everywhere, and when that didn’t pan out, you’d directly call the company to inquire.

If they weren’t going to call you, then hell, you were going to reach out to them. No harm done. Except that was leading you absolutely nowhere either.

“Still nothing?”

You paused your pacing, immediately turning your head to the sound of your best friend’s voice. “Jesus, I forgot you were still here,” you chuckled, combing your fingers through your hair to soothe yourself. “No, unfortunately. I’m about to lose my goddamn mind, I swear.”

San clicked his tongue softly, nodding in understanding, his eyes dropping into that rare softness you only saw when he was trying to give you your well-needed space. “It’s not your fault,” he shrugged, pushing himself off your doorway to make his way towards you. “The market’s just surprisingly oversaturated. And it’s not like you’re underqualified, you literally speak four other languages.”

“I mean it’s not like I’m completely out of options,” you said. “I do have an upcoming interview with KQ Corporation, but I’m not holding my breath for it. I applied for a random position and they’re literally the biggest company in the country so I’m trying to broaden my prospects.”

San whistled, impressed. “KQ? Goddamn. That’s tough, good luck with that one. Though I think you should be fine. Our company is, what, almost on par with KQ and you still got in.”

Your face bunched up in vexation, a grimace making its way up your lips. “As you can see that didn’t really do anything for me,” you scoffed, the bitter taste of your old job suddenly making its way in your mouth. “I got hired to speak Japanese, San, and then they started talking to me in Russian. Do I look like I know how to speak Russian?”

“Lee was a piece of rubbish shit,” he jeered, waving a dismissive hand, lazily plopping down your couch to make himself comfortable as if he always belonged there and lived here instead of you. “I’m about to honestly quit too, I hate working for the guy.”

“If you want to end up jobless like me, then be my fucking guest, I suppose,” you laughed sarcastically, not intending for it to come out snappier than it did. 

San’s brows both rose in surprise. “Woah, easy there, tiger. Didn’t mean to pee in your cereal bowl or whatever,” he frowned. There was a second of silence before he sighed. “Seriously, though, are you alright? I know the job-hunting is getting to you…”

The way he asked it made your stomach turn. Your throat clenched. You swallowed hard, but the lump stayed there, thick and immovable. “I’m fine,” you reassured when his eyes still didn’t leave yours.

It was more than the waiting game or the unanswered calls - it was waking up with nowhere to be, no reason to rush, no proof that you were needed anywhere at all. You told yourself it was temporary, but the longer it stretched on, the more it started to feel personal, like the world was moving forward, and you were stuck watching from behind a pane of glass.

San just stared at you. Finally, he rolled his eyes, a small smirk tugging up the corner of his lips. “It’s a nice day outside,” he began softly, his voice contrasting the mischievous look on his face. “Why don’t you take a walk? Clear that bitch out of you or something before I get pissed at you for giving me attitude.”

And just like that, that glass cracked. Quietly, like it was set down but not quite shattered. You scoffed in disbelief, not being able to stop the laughter that bubbled up your throat. Without a word, you grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair, shoving your arms through the sleeves, movements jerky and frustrated yet determined and energised. 

“Are you going to be fine alone, though?” You asked, holding onto the door frame as you carefully put your shoes on, looking back to hear his response. “I won’t be gone for long.”

San let out a dramatic scoff like you had just insulted him. “Go before I chuck the nearest thing I can get my hands on at you,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Take your time. I don’t want to be disturbed as I raid your fridge and your wine rack.”

You rolled your eyes, but the sting behind them had dulled. You chose to hide them behind your sunglasses. Before you closed the door, you looked back at him one more time and you saw the sarcasm in his eyes melt into something warmer. San tilted his head, gaze gentler than his words. “Go,” he urged. “And bring an umbrella in case it rains.”

You shoved your hands into your jacket pockets and started aimlessly walking. The walking trail was only a couple of minutes away by foot, but being lost in your head made it feel like it was kilometres away. 

At least the trail was pretty. It was lush and full of life; full of unexplored possibilities that brought you back to your childhood wanting to explore every rocky path and staircase that disappeared into the trees. All you knew was that you wanted to walk away from your responsibilities even if it’s only temporary. You were hoping that the fresh air might change something.

For now, you wanted to walk away from yourself. Whatever you were feeling was a pill you couldn’t swallow whole. So, instead, it had swallowed you whole and was now following your thoughts. For now, you kept walking. Not towards anything, just away.

You were currently on the highest part of the trail, on top of that winding staircase that nobody wanted to traverse given how many steps it demanded of anyone brave enough to try. By the time most people reached the halfway point, they were already turning back, laughing breathlessly and deciding the rest simply wasn’t worth it.

That suited you perfectly. Most people preferred the livelier parts anyway, but this place? This isolated, forgotten corner? It was easily the most beautiful part of it. You liked that no one bothered climbing all the way up, and because of that, its beauty remained untouched. No one ever came up here. That was exactly why you loved it.

It was where your phone buzzed in your pocket. Without looking, you picked up, thinking it was San, but it wasn’t. It was one of the companies that you applied for; another one that said you were on their waitlist. Suddenly, the view started to fade into the background, your mood souring entirely.

“I could put you on hold until upper management is free,” the lady on the phone uttered monotonously as if you were just another voice on their roster they had to get rid of. “Though I’m not sure how long that would be.”

“I’ll wait,” you gritted out, trying not to sound let down. You gripped the phone tighter like it was the only thing tethering you to the ground, the telltale music on the other end as you were put on hold ringing in your ear like a heartbeat you didn’t want to hear. 

You knew how this was going to end. It was only one of two; either they put you on hold long enough where you knew they’re doing it on purpose and you’d have no choice but to hang up, or they’d pick up to tell you that they’ll put you on top of their waitlist. You’re just surprised your eyes haven’t gotten stuck behind your brain by how much you rolled them at this point.

But you were in a good mood today. You absentmindedly idled around, still taking in the view as you held the phone to your ear, waiting for what you already knew. Whatever, you thought. If this doesn’t work, you still have KQ. Hopefully.

You dug your free hand inside your pocket, taking out the company card you always carried. You even put a star sticker on it for good luck. You turned the card over between your fingers, the weight of it surprising you every time. Your thumb traced over the embossed letters, in awe of how luxurious even that felt across your fingertips.

KQ Corporation. Of course, you wanted in. They were the best of the best; the crème de la crème of the business world. You’d be set for life. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You weren’t special for wanting it. You were just one in the thousands upon thousands of applicants who wanted their piece of the prestige.

You must’ve been so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t notice that you walked into the deeper part of the trail, the one where you didn’t even venture in because the brush was thicker and the trees were denser. It was mostly unkempt because barely anyone went in here. You cursed under your breath when you looked back. You were so high up that going down would take a while because it was steeper to walk down than up.

You decided to walk a little further to find a path that wasn’t as steep, but that turned out to be a huge mistake. Your shoelaces got caught on one of the exposed tree roots that you barely noticed, causing you to trip unceremoniously, dropping everything you held in your hand to catch yourself before you cracked your skull on the nearby tree trunk, using your umbrella to cushion your fall.

You stayed where you fell, palms pressed into the dirt, annoyed at your clumsiness before you started picking your stuff up from the leafy ground of the walking trail. Your phone was only a couple of steps away from you, but your wallet, it wasn’t anywhere near you. Confused, your eyes scanned the ground, and that’s when you spotted it lying on the other side of the trail, further than where it should have been.

With a small groan, you crawled to wherever it was, not caring about the dirt on your clothes. As you were about to grab the worn leather, you stilled, fingers hovering above it. There were voices - two male ones, in fact - and they were close. A little too close for your liking. 

At first, you were going to ignore it, thinking that they were people who ventured a little too far on the trail just like you, but when you heard the distinct sounds of an altercation, it got your attention. Still, it was none of your business. It was an argument you did not want to involve yourself in.

It was the sharp, guttural sound of someone getting choked that had you going completely dead still. Your head automatically lifts to find the source, and there they were. Just beyond the trees was a taller, much bigger man pinning an older man against a tree, his hand wrapped tightly around the other’s throat.

Your chest wanted to cave in. You weren’t supposed to see this. From where they stood, you can tell that nobody was meant to see this at all. But that wasn’t why your gut was churning; you knew deep inside, that you were not supposed to be seen watching this unfold. You didn’t dare move, didn’t even dare breathe in fear that they’ll hear.

The older man choked out a pitiful sound, his fingers desperately clawing the other man’s fingers away from his neck as his face turned into a concerning shade of purple as he struggled for some sort of leverage. “P-Please,” you heard him wheeze weakly. “You c-can’t…”

You were horrified as you watched the taller man tilt his head slightly, not bothering to say a word. He didn’t even look strained as he held the older man hostage even though you knew it must take great strength to force someone’s head against a surface. Hell, you felt like you were straining more trying not to breathe or move.

As the pinned man garbled strings of random words that reeked of desperate mercy, you took this opportunity to stare at the taller man. He was magnetic, and not in a good way. He was broad, menacing in ways that threatened you even from where you sat. His expression was eerily blank as if he wasn’t actively choking the life out of this man.

But his eyes...you did not like them. For a split second as the older man seemed to blabber on and on, his eyes seemed to darken, like an ominous shadow enveloping the humanity in it. Or, perhaps, the complete lack of it. “I-I’ll do it, please, I’ll pay you, give you w-what you want,” the man gasped, his eyes rolling at the back of his head. 

The other man scoffs softly. “I don’t need your money.”

Shivers erupted from your skin at the tone of his voice. It wasn’t that it was low, rough, and rugged - though that certainly was a huge factor. It was the first time you heard him speak after all the broken cries of the other man and you weren’t sure you wanted to hear it again. If his actions already freaked you out, hearing him talk definitely was not going to help. 

“Please, put me down,” the older man croaked pitifully. “P-Put it down.”

It?

That’s when you saw the thing that set this apart from a regular fight between two men. Your eyes settled on the gun the taller man held in his free hand, your stomach dropping as he lifted it, pressing the cold metal on the struggling man’s temple. The motion was sure and final, like this wasn’t the first time he’d ever been on the other side of the trigger. 

You wanted to throw up. You were done for. You had to get away from here, but how? One wrong move and you were sure you’d be next. You were about to watch someone die and there was nothing you could do about it without giving yourself away. The man’s face had gone blotchy, veins straining as he forced words out past the pressure. “Y-You,” he let out with much difficulty. “You’re going to regret t-this.”

The taller man didn’t react. He just blinked, nodding slowly. “Will I?” He asked, genuinely curious of the answer he might hear next. You wanted to whimper at his sheer indifference.

The pinned man sucked in a broken breath, desperation sharpening his voice. “You think no one’s gonna c-come looking? You’re not untouchable–”

His tirade gets interrupted, letting out a small cry when the man presses the gun more firmly against his head. Your heart just about dropped to your foot at the brash gesture while the latter just lets out a quiet exhale, his fingers visibly tightening even more on the former’s throat.

“Why would that matter to you? You’ll be long gone by then,” he murmured, the faintest hint of something dark curling at the edge of his tone.

 “D-Do you not know who I am? This is—”

“I do,” the taller man interrupts him again, gentler this time. That just made it worse, in your opinion. “And that is exactly why you’re here.”

You were surprised when he suddenly let go, and clearly, the older man as well. He wasn’t thrown to the ground like a rag doll, he was just released, crumpling to the floor as he took in big gulps of the breath that was almost taken from him, dirt smearing all over his clothes as he tried to get away from his captor.

But none of that mattered. The relief was short lived as the taller man took one unhurried step forward, bracing his leg firmly on the ground as he lifted the gun in the air, the finality of it sealing all of your fates - the killer, the victim, and the witness.

Blood drained from your face, but you couldn’t move. It was so morbid, but you just couldn’t look away. The man on the ground trembled, pure and unadulterated panic taking over his entire form. “No, no, wait, p-please,” he begged. “You’re not going to get away with this, Song. People will ask, and they will find you. Don’t do this—”

The taller man stared down at him, expression unchanged save for the slight twitch on the corner of his lips. “You’re right,” he said softly, almost thoughtfully, voice barely audible. “It is highly unusual for big animals to not leave footprints in the snow.”

A soft click fills the air. It was the gun being cocked back in preparation for that one shot, but in the silence of the trail, it sounded like a bone being snapped in half. “But, the thing is,” he continued, eerily calm. “I have very, very small feet.”

Bang.

It was loud. The sound was a split second of finality, but it was deafening. Everything happened in slow motion. The man fell backwards as the bullet that pierced his forehead snuffed the life out of him, the heavy thump of his weightless, limp body falling down the damp soil startling you to the reality that you had just watched cold-blooded murder; you saw somebody die before you.

Faint smoke lazily curled up from the bullet hole on the dead man’s head, his open and unseeing eyes that reflected nothing at all staring up at you, judging you silently. But that wasn’t what made bile rise up your throat - it was the thick splatters of blood speckling your face.

You flinched, eyes closing on instinct as you felt tiny droplets mist across your face, the metallic scent of it making you nauseous. Your breath caught, mouth open as you tried to chase it before you hyperventilated. Your entire body was numb, caught between wanting to tremble like the leaves surrounding you and staying frozen, but the shock of it was preventing you.

You had to get out of here. You didn’t want to die, you didn’t want any part of this. All you wanted was to take a walk to relax, you didn’t want to die. But before you could even do anything, a shadow fell above you, enveloping your immediate surroundings ominously.

You stopped breathing then, your fingers curling in your palms, gathering dirt as they trembled. You didn’t look up - you didn’t want to. You could feel him there, staring down at you like he stared down at the man he had just killed, and every instinct in your body screamed at you to run, but you stayed exactly where you were, locked in place like prey that knew better than to twitch under a predator’s gaze.

Neither of you spoke or moved. Time twisted into something shapeless and it felt like a showdown to whoever would crack first. Maybe, your mind supplied in a panic. Maybe if I didn’t move at all he’d leave me alone–

You stopped yourself before that thought festered. No, that would not work. Not in a million years. He’d already seen you, and you know that he knows that you were there the entire time everything went down. Sweat trailed down from your temples, dripping down to the back of your hand. Your heart stopped when your fingers twitched, but that was when a thought struck you.

In a mixture of panic and sheer will to survive - and perhaps, possibly, the most idiotic thing you could ever do - you forced your hands to move. A little at first since they wouldn’t stop shaking, a little because you were scared that your nerves would cause you to topple over. You did it again until your hands dragged clumsily across the ground.

You swallowed hard, doing it over again, all without blinking nor moving your head, forcing your eyes to stare straight at nowhere in particular, your gaze slipping past everything like it couldn’t quite land as you patted blindly at the soil, movements uneven and hesitant while you tried to breathe through your panicked state.

Like you couldn’t see. Because that’s exactly what you were doing - you were pretending to be blind. Please, you internally screamed as your fingers swept all over the ground and purposefully missing your wallet by a few inches. Please let him believe it.

A scream bubbles up your throat when suddenly, the taller man crouches down. He went from standing menacingly tall above you to your eye-level, his face so close to you that you could smell the mint from his breath. You almost yelped when his hand came up to take your sunglasses off - the one you forgot you were still wearing all this time - and he was now staring directly into your eyes.

Your heart wanted to leap out your chest at the suddenness of it, but you forced yourself to look straight past him, hoping to convince him that you legitimately couldn’t see even though all you wanted to do was cry. His unexpected gesture made you fumble, causing you to accidentally run your hands on his shoe, though in hindsight, that might have helped your case. 

Through your unfocused gaze, you saw his brow tilt up. Without breaking eye contact, you saw his hand move through your peripheral vision, his fingers pushing your wallet in the direction where your hands were patting randomly. The silence stretched as you grabbed your wallet, clutching it a little harder than usual, the leather bending abnormally inside your palm.

What now, though? You had the one thing you crawled for in the sweaty palm of your shaking hand, so what now? Your heart was about to leap out of your ribcage. He was still staring, testing to see what you would do next. Even in your stationary gaze, you could tell that he was observing you; trying to detect any sort of deception on your end.

And you forced your eyes to stare between his brows and keep them fully open even when you felt them dry up. Fuck, you thought as dread crept upon you, don’t blink, Y/N, don’t you fucking dare blink–

It was a gradual sensation. You felt it slowly, that thin layer of moisture leaving your eyes. Your eyelids wanted to twitch, wanting to close for that relief, but you held them open; forced them wide. Then the burn came and tears threatened to form as the air around your eyes felt like fine grains, and still, your gaze stayed fixed and empty.

Unfortunately, though, your vision didn’t blur out. Instead, it sharpened in a way that made you notice every single detail about this man. You could see every pore on his skin, the way his icy blonde hair stayed in place even after what he had done, but most importantly, those unreadable eyes.

They showed no particular expression, and to you, that just made this entire thing much, much worse. You needed to know what this man was thinking. It was the only thing that will keep you alive. You had no idea if he was laughing on the inside because of this asinine charade you were pulling, or if his murderous intent had increased since then. You did not know.

Still, there was something chilling about them. Perhaps it was the nothingness in them, or perhaps, that thin, malicious sheen that pulsed with an unspoken threat. Your lashes quivered at the thought and you screamed internally at that blunder. He saw it, you knew he did. His head tilted slightly and you froze harder, if that was even possible.

Then, through your unfocused gaze, you caught the faintest movement. It was his hand moving slowly - the one holding the gun. You stopped breathing completely, but then, you saw him put it away. That should have made you feel better, but it didn’t, because the same hand started to come up until it was within your direct line of sight.

He waved his hand in front of your face, his eyes unblinking as he tested his suspicions, but you forced your eyes to not follow his hands, keeping them dull and off-center. And as if things couldn’t get any worse, his hand started to move forward. Controlled but with certainty, his hand moved until it made contact with your face.

You allowed yourself to flinch at the sudden touch, every muscle in your body locking up so tight that it hurt. His fingers were cold and honestly, you were just bracing for impact, but that didn’t happen. Instead, his fingers lingered, slowly tracing until they stopped on your cheek. He wiped something from your cheek, the pads of his fingers dragging lightly across your skin.

Your stomach lurched. You forgot you unwillingly got sprayed with blood. His hand momentarily pulls away and you watch as he slowly licked his thumb wet before going back in and wiping more of the blood away from your face. It made your skin crawl. The same hand that did not hesitate to pull the trigger felt abnormally tender like you were something so fragile.

It was over as soon as it started. He moved to get up and as you were about to panic, you felt him reach your arm, helping you get up. Your instincts told you to scream and push him away, but you didn’t. Your legs almost failed you as you tried to grab onto your bearings, and when you rose to your full height, your knees almost buckled when you realised that you were only up to this man’s shoulders. You never stood a chance.

You saw him bend down in your peripheral vision, saw him pick up your sunglasses and umbrella before handing them to you. In a morbid twist of events, he even put your sunglasses back on your face before positioning the umbrella for you on the wet, muddy soil of the trail. You swallowed, internally thanking whichever saint was watching over you and for San for making you buy those traditionally long umbrellas.

And for making you bring the umbrella in general, because this man must’ve thought you were using the umbrella as some sort of mobility cane to guide you on your walk. “T-Thank you,” you squeaked weakly, forcing the words out, willing yourself to sound normal even though the sound came out unsteady.

The man didn’t say anything. Instead, he grabs your shoulder, spins you around, and gives you a small nudge forward. At first, you were confused, but you were rendered dizzy when you realised that he turned you to the direction where it would lead to the main part of the trail near the exit. He was basically telling you to go.

The fear locked you into place, and you swear you willed yourself to walk, but you just couldn’t. That didn’t last long because you felt another push on your shoulder, this time, with a bit more force, as if he was telling you, “Go. Leave before I change my mind and end you here.”

That broke whatever mental barrier was hindering you. You gripped the umbrella handle so hard, your knuckles ached, like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Because it basically was. You lifted it, tapping on the ground like you thought people who couldn’t see would, not entirely sure if it looked realistic, but it was enough for now. It had to be.

San walked back and forth briskly in your living room, and had been for the past twenty minutes. His hair was in disarray as he bit his nails anxiously, pausing his walk to open his mouth before closing them again. “I-I just can’t believe it,” he blurted out in disbelief. “He let you go?” He snapped his fingers loud once and you unconsciously flinched. It reminded you of how loud that single gunshot was. “Just like that? He let you go?”

“Yes, how many times do I have to tell you?” You were getting exasperated at this point, stuck between laughing at the incredulity of the situation you found yourself in and crying at how messed up everything was. 

You came home in record time, busting through the front door about to pass out from the lack of breath. San was about to poke fun, but when he noticed how pale you were, trembling abnormally, with dried up streaks of blood on your face, he knew something was not right. “What am I gonna do?” You gulped. “W-What if he followed me here and I didn’t see him? What if he finds me, San? What if—”

“Alright, first off,” he interrupted before he led you to sit down on the couch. “Let’s take a moment—”

“I can’t,” you wailed, feeling tears threaten to fall from your eyes again. Everything suddenly hit you now that you were at the comfort of your own house. “I don’t know what to do, San, I just witnessed someone get shot and die.”

San holds your face in between his hands. “You’re hyperventilating. Breathe in with me,” he took a deep breath in, waiting for you to do the same. “Good, now breathe out with me…just like that, you’re doing great.”

It was easier said than done, but you managed to control your breathing by following his actions, and eventually, you felt like your airways were clear enough to get your thoughts straightened out. “I think I should go to the police,” you started, swallowing audibly before continuing. “I don’t think my conscience can take all this burden, I just can’t. I thought crap like this only happened in movies and they all made it seem so easy, but I don’t think I can hold this in.”

“Yeah, you do that, and what?” San raised a brow, pausing to sigh loudly in equal exasperation. “What are you going to tell the police? It’ll be your words against a man I’m pretty sure isn’t hanging around the trail anymore waiting to be caught like a live fish in a lake.”

You ran your hands on your hair, incredulous. “You serious? Are you telling me to just keep this to myself? Someone died, San.”

“Of course not,” he replied in disbelief. “But just think about it - do you even know which part of the trail it is? Do you know what this guy looks like? Can you even describe what this man looks like if they asked you for a composite sketch? You have no proof to bring them, Y/N.”

You opened your mouth to retort before forcing them shut. “But, I saw it,” you tried again weakly, clearly grasping for straws at this point. “I saw everything. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“It does,” he said, softer now. “To you.”

Your stomach sank. You knew he wasn’t wrong. Best case, they take a report and nothing comes of it. Worst case, they don’t believe you. Not without proof where they’ll start poking holes in a story built on fragments and adrenaline and fear. Your shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of you as quickly as it had come.

San leaned back slightly, watching you with something more measured. “You did what you had to do to stay alive,” he said. “Don’t twist that into something it’s not.”

Your thoughts raced faster, trying to think of how to turn this situation where you didn’t have to carry the burdens of what you saw, but there was nothing; not when you had nothing but a memory you couldn’t even fully trust because you’d spent half of it trying not to see. “So what, I just sit here and pretend it didn’t happen? But…” you trailed off, stomach churning violently. “So in other words, I’m fucked?”

“In many words, you’re fucked,” he scoffed, not at you, but at the situation, as he lightly shook his head. He went quiet for a second before he continued, more gently this time. “All’s I’m saying, let’s not dive in impulsively yet. If this freak had the audacity to do what he did in broad daylight…”

San trailed off, glancing at you pointedly. You gulped. You knew what he was trying to say - that this man was capable and more.

There are a lot of things that are easier said than done. You tried to forget, you really did. It’s been two weeks of constant nightmares plaguing you; two weeks of dread crawling up your skin, festering your insides like a rotten disease that has no cure. Every time you closed your eyes, you’d see man’s eyes that gleamed like a blade in the dark. You just wanted it to stop.

You sighed heavily, pressing your fingers to your temples to stop the clustered migraine making its way up your head, almost tempted to dig your fingers into your eyes just to stop the ache. You had to will them away, now was not the time.

You adjusted your sunglasses to block out the midday sun, gripping the fabric of your pencil skirt a little too tightly and then alternating that with smoothing the wrinkles you made over and over again. You were nervous. Today was a big day, after all.

Because you were currently in line along with other people outside of one of the most prestigious companies in the country, waiting to be let in for an interview. You will never forget getting the call a couple of days ago, thinking that it was another dud from a random company, but when Jeong Yunho introduced himself as KQ Corporation’s secretary and told you that you could come in for an interview, your mind just blanked out. 

The KQ logo sat high above the entrance, sleek and understated and you watched as it swallowed candidates one by one. Getting in the building was just step one; getting inside the lobby for the actual interview was another thing. That, alone, wracked up your anxiety.

“Sorry, but is there a way you could perhaps save my spot for me? I just need to use the restroom real quick.” You didn’t realise that the voice was coming directly from behind you. “Huh? Oh yeah, sure, of course, take your time,” you spoke nonchalantly, not really paying attention to the person.

You didn’t think much of it. After a while, you heard annoyed murmurs and minor complaints from behind you, snide remarks about people cutting in line. You assumed it was the man from earlier coming back and you thought that was that. “It’s crazy, huh? All these people want to be in and we’re one of them.” You didn’t reply at first, but then you realised that the casual statement was actually directed towards you. “Oh, yeah,” you chuckled when you turned around, nervously adjusting your sunglasses. “One can only dream, am I right?”

The stranger lets out a small laughter, nodding his head in agreement. You observed him for a second. He looked handsome, though intimidating in his stance with his sturdy and athletic build. However, his face was soft, his warm gummy smile complimenting his face. “For sure. If only it wasn’t so damn hot out here,” he said, fanning himself with his hand while the other jutted forward for a handshake. “Hi, I’m Choi Jongho. Should’ve introduced myself earlier.”

You took his hand and shook it well, hoping yours wasn’t clammy because he was right, it was hot outside the building. “L/N Y/N,” you smiled. “I’m just a bit nervous, that’s all. Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he replied, mouth tugging up with a soft smile as he adjusted his own sunglasses. “For one, you’re the nicest person I’ve encountered today. Been holding that piss for hours now and these assholes just…well. Half the people here are acting like they’ve already been hired. Thank you for that, by the way.”

He wasn’t wrong. People stood a little too straight, eyes flicking over one another in quick, calculating glances, silently sizing up competition. Some didn’t even bother to hide it. Everyone just wanted to one up another. “Don’t mention it,” you dismissed. “Good luck to us, I suppose.”

Jongho was about to open his mouth to say it back, but it never came because suddenly, the energy shifted. The people began to murmur to themselves, clamouring as their voices overlapped with one another. You were confused, but you soon realised what was happening.

Someone important was about to come; someone to impress. Security guards lined up, parting the crowd to make space. You didn’t have to wait long. You felt a presence a distance away so commanding that you didn’t have to look.

There he was. The person moved towards the building with ease like he didn’t need the path cleared - like the world would’ve parted for him anyway. His stride was unhurried and grounded, confident in a way that wasn’t forced. You could easily tell that this person was in charge with the way he didn’t even acknowledge the attention. He didn’t have to.

As he got closer, you got a clearer view of this person. Your eyes traced upwards slowly, taking him in piece by piece, until you stopped at his face. But the moment you did, you regretted it. Everything slowed and your breath caught so sharp that it physically hurt you afterward.

No, no, no, you internally screamed, doom suddenly making your ears ring, easily tuning everything out as you honed in on the one face you’ve been trying to forget for two weeks now. Your heart dropped so fast it felt like it hit the ground.

It was him. The man from the trail. There was no doubt about it. You didn’t even have to look at his entire face, his eyes alone were enough. It was those same empty eyes that contemplated your demise; the same eyes where you saw your end before he let you go that day. And right now, people were parting for him as he walked through with authority. But that wasn’t what made him different today, it wasn’t what made him even more dangerous.

It was the way he carried himself. It was so different from the rugged, aggressive man from the trail. Your stomach lurched violently. What was he doing here? You couldn’t breathe, everything in you wanted to run, but he was getting closer and closer to where you were, and you couldn’t even move away.

And as if things weren’t bad for you already, you swore, you could have sworn, that you saw his eyes flicker towards you for a split second.

But he just moved past you, not stopping, not slowing down, not even bothering to look. He walked straight past, the guards falling in line behind him as he approached the entrance. The doors opened seamlessly, like they’d been waiting for him and then he was gone. Just like that.

It was when your knees gave out. The world violently spun around you as you stumbled. Everything crashed down on you, overwhelmingly and suffocatingly so. The noise, the heat, the crowd - none of that mattered to you. All you could think of was the nightmare you’ve lived for two weeks and now that very same nightmare was haunting you while you were wide awake.

You barely registered the firm touch of hands on your waist, balancing you up. Jongho’s worried face suddenly materialises in front of you, a frown on his face as he used the folder he had on himself to fan you as his other hand held your limp arm to also stablise you. “Y/N? You’re pale,” he pointed out. “Is it the heat? I can get you water–”

“W-Who was that?” You blurted out in a panic, jutting your trembling fingers at the entrance door. “That man who just went in…who was that?”

“Hmm? Oh, that’s the CEO,” he answered as he helped you up, but all you wanted to do was throw up as his answer looped over and over in your head. That man was the CEO. He was the CEO. He’s in charge. He killed someone two weeks ago and you saw it. 

Your fingers curled tightly at your sides, nails digging into your palms as panic surged, hot and suffocating. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of something that refused to make sense. Did he see you? That can’t be. There were no less than a hundred people and you were just one of them. There was no way.

Beads of sweat started to trickle down from your scalp to your jaws, but you barely felt it with how cold your entire body felt on the inside. I have to get out of here, you internally panicked, already planning your escape route. You’d have lost your damn mind if you thought you were going to spend another second in the presence of a cold-blooded killer.

But before you could even attempt to leave, the entrance opens again and out comes someone and everyone falls into a hush when he raises his hand. Even in your frightened state, you could see that this was another person of authority. It was obvious that whatever he said next wasn’t up for discussion.

“We appreciate your interest in KQ Corporation and your time in attending today’s selection process,” he began, voice polished to perfection. “I’ll cut to the chase, if you are not Choi Jongho and L/N Y/N, then you are all dismissed.”

Your heart stopped for half a second. The crowd immediately erupted around you with voices of anger and disbelief as, but all of that faded into muffled white noise. You desperately wanted the high-pitched ringing in your ears to stop, but your limbs refused to move. “If there are any further disruptions,” the man said calmly, cutting through the noise with ease, “We will be forced to escalate this situation accordingly.”

Now, he didn’t say it outright, but the implication was clear - continue fucking around to find out. People still grumbled, but one by one, they started to leave. Still, you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was throw up. You had been picked, and now, there was no way out. Not anymore.

“Hey,” Jongho’s voice came through, breaking you out of your trance. You turned to look at him, and he still had that stunned look on his face. “This was…unexpected. We should go,” he cleared his throat nervously. He says something more, but you didn’t hear any of it. You were still feeling the aftereffects of your name being called. You were genuinely terrified and trapped. “Y/N?” Jongho frowned, looking back in confusion as to why you weren’t moving.

Your feet wouldn’t move. Inside those walls was everything you'd been dreaming of to advance in your career. The problem was, so was he. The memory hit you all over again - his eyes, the gun, the terror - and you just knew you couldn’t go in there. Your breathing picked up, throat tightening. You needed something, anything, to protect yourself. But before you could stop yourself, your mouth just moved on its own and you blurted out, “I-I’m blind.”

Jongho’s eyes widened in sheer surprise. “What? Oh my,” the latter uttered in disbelief, immediately walking back towards you. “I-I didn’t know, I’m sorry, here…”

He extended his hand, and you almost reached out, but stopped yourself, forcing your gaze to unfocus, tilting your head like you were listening instead of seeing. Jongho was confused why you weren’t taking his hand, but then, he face-palmed himself. “Oh, God, I’m an idiot,” he hissed. “Uhm, is it alright if I hold onto you so I can help you get inside?”

You nodded stiffly, legs finally unlocking as he guided you forward. In no time, the both of you were following the man, who you soon learned was none other than Jeong Yunho, himself. You saw him raise a brow at how Jongho was guiding you, but when he had told him of your circumstances, he stayed silent for a moment. If he was surprised, he barely let it show.

“Are you going to be okay?” Yunho asked as he guided you by the arm to sit down in one of the rooms. Jongho is already being shown his respective position so that left you. “On behalf of the company, I sincerely apologise for any discomfort. Had I known, I personally would have made you wait here from the start.”

Yunho’s voice was soft, and he was surprisingly gentle. It was such a contrast to his cool and intimidating exterior. You had to force your head still, thankful you didn’t have to take your sunglasses off so you wouldn’t have to pretend too hard. “I-It’s alright,” you stammered, trying hard not to sound like you were one step away from fainting. “I’d like to be hired fair and square despite my…shortcomings.”

“Admirable, I like that. I’m sure he will, too,” Yunho hummed. He stood up, patting your shoulder gently once. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. He’s just finishing a phone call, but he’ll be ready to personally interview you soon. Do call if you need anything, Y/N.”

Bile started to rise from your throat, but you had to make sure. “W-Wait,” you stopped Yunho before he walked away. “I-I’m sorry, who’s the he you’re referring to?”

Yunho lets a small smirk slip out before masking it quickly. “The boss, Y/N. This is his office,” he replied, gesturing his hand to the room. “He’s been quite taken with your credentials. You are exactly what he’s looking for.”

You did not like the sound of that. What the fuck does that even mean? Unfortunately, you had plenty of time to think about it as you sat in that chair, waiting for your doom to swallow you whole and spit you out with nothing but bones left. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony.

Life was a joke like that. You knew you were going to see him again. You weren’t meant to stay in peace forever. But, goddamn, you didn’t think it would be this soon. You could’ve gotten more time, at least. Hell, you never wanted to see him at all ever again if it was up to you.

Your gaze lifted, carefully taking everything in. The office was spacious and elegant, but minimal in its decor. Dark, sleek furniture of sharp edges surrounded you, and surprisingly, it actually made sense. It was a mirror of how he was as a person, you couldn’t explain it. And then, you saw it - a metal plate fixed neatly against the desk with his name on it.

Song Mingi. Chief Executive Officer.

Your mouth dried up, eyes focusing sharply on that plate. Song Mingi. The name echoed in your head. Finally, you had a name to match to the face; a name to tie to the crime. He wasn’t just a memory anymore, he was tangible and real. He was here. And so were you.

“Comfortable?”

Hot breath ghosted over your ear. You jerked on instinct, nearly jumping out of your skin, yelping as your heart thundered violently against your ribcage. A low, amused chuckle followed. “Sorry,” a deep voice murmured, not sounding apologetic at all. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Something about that just sounded so…wrong to you. It was a good thing you didn’t turn around, because there he was, the man of your nightmares walking to sit behind his pristine desk. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin, terror washing all over you as you tried not to tremble, holding your breath as if that would save you.

Mingi. He was exactly as you remembered, yet somehow worse at the same time. He was still as broad two weeks ago, but instead of a black faded jacket, he wore a suit that emphasized his long limbs. He was still blonde, hair still slicked back, and the pale colour should’ve looked soft in this particular lighting, but not on him.

Unfortunately, it emphasized the sharpness of his features, contrasting his high cheekbones and lips that were curled slightly up the edges like he knew something you didn’t. It also highlighted those murderous eyes, except this time, they were filled with mirth and not in a good way. 

He looked good. No one would be the wiser that this man had no problem taking someone's life. You were about to stand, albeit stiffly, about to offer him a bow in respect, when his low voice cut you off mid-gesture. “No need,” he spoke firmly. You froze, not knowing what to do. “I’ve been informed of your…circumstances,” he continued, that faint curl of amusement still lingering in his tone.

You swallowed. Right. You were blind. You forced out a smile, hands gripping the sides of the chair awkwardly. You were still stuck in that halfway standing position and you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t even want to move, every inch of you wanted to just get up and run.

“Sit down.”

He said it so quietly that you barely heard him. You obeyed, though, because the way he said it was not a suggestion. So there you were, sat on a cushy chair that felt more like a trap across from where he also sat, not saying a word. The problem was, neither was he. You waited, keeping your posture pin straight as you waited for him to say something. Anything.

Instead, you saw his eyes on you, taking you in unhurriedly and deliberately like he had all the time in the world. Like you did too. Subconsciously, your fingers curled into your skirt, and you saw his eyes trail down at the gesture. His lips twitched a little, eyes shining like he was enjoying this far more than he should. It made your skin crawl.

The silence was oppressive. It made the room seem smaller, the air thinner somehow. Even the faint, ambient noises you might have expected like a clock ticking, footsteps outside the room, and paperwork rustling were absent. It was as if the room itself had decided to hold its breath, waiting to see what the both of you would do next.

But Mingi’s gaze remained fixed on you as though he could sit in this silence indefinitely and emerge victorious simply by outlasting you. There was no urgency in him, no need to fill the void. If anything, he seemed to thrive in it. You shifted slightly, your discomfort evident, and his lips stretched further. He was savouring this, enjoying it far more than he had any right to.

“You don’t look like someone who can’t see.”

The words didn’t land immediately. It was comparable to lightning where you’d see it before the booming loudness hit your ears. Your breath hitched, the dread pushing bile up your throat that you forced yourself to swallow. “I-I,” you started, voice cracking embarrassingly before you cleared your throat. “I, uhm, see silhouettes, but I’m mostly unseeing. You get used to it.”

There was a pause before he let out a soft chuckle, and somehow, that was the most menacing thing you’ve ever seen him do. “Do you?” He asked, tilting his head. You nodded weakly, and this time, you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking. 

“Ah, I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” he chuckled again, waving a dismissive hand like he didn’t just make this entire encounter the most uncomfortable thing ever. “I meant that as a compliment. Let’s start over again, yes? Would you mind if I touched your hand to shake it?”

“N-No, not at all,” you replied, lifting your hand, steadying your head forward, still keeping your gaze unfocused and out of centre. Mingi does not hesitate to grab it, gripping it firmly, and for a split second, the way he did it reminded you of how he held your shoulders at the trail. Shivers crawled up your spine at the memory.

“Song Mingi, Chief Executive,” he introduced, shaking your hand before letting go. “Welcome to KQ Corporation. I’m sure you’ve heard of us, hopefully only the good things, though.”

“L/N Y/N,” you smiled tightly, putting on your professional stance, pretending that all of this was normal. That wasn’t the hard part anyway, you were good at your job. Your resumé speaks for itself. “It’s my honour to be here, Mr. Song. KQ has been a lifelong dream of mine.”

A ghost of a smirk graces his lips. “Charmed,” he said. “And Mingi will be just fine. We’ll be working very close together, Y/N. I suggest you get used to it.”

You chuckled nervously, disliking the message, hating the way he said it even more. But there was nothing you could do, not as you felt the weight of his gaze dragging over every detail of you just waiting for you to fail, patiently standing by to see when he could dig his claws in.

“Right. Let’s begin,” he started, posture straightening immediately into something more professional. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry because, after all, the killer was an established businessman. “As you are aware, KQ invests plenty on international ventures. As do I. My presence is scarce in my own company because I’m always out of the country.”

You paid attention, ignoring the deep drawl of his voice and the change in his demeanor that was throwing you off-kilter. This was dangerous. If he could switch from being a menace to this composed, articulate executive in the blink of an eye, then nothing about him was accidental.

“Now, I had been told prior by Yunho about your visual impairment,” he continued, grabbing a couple of papers from the desk drawers. Your eyes tracked his measured movements without moving your neck, which proved difficult. “And while it is unconventional,” he paused, taking something small from the stack and sliding it across the desk directly in front of you. “Sight is not necessary for what I am hiring you to do for me, specifically.”

Your gaze dropped to his desk, and you felt your head spin so fast it almost made you dizzy. It was the company card you didn’t even know you had lost until this moment. It was yours, and you knew it was because of the star sticker. It also had small, dried up specks of blood on it.

You forced your breathing to stay even, but something in your chest had already tightened, coiling too fast to control. San was right - you were thoroughly, utterly fucked. This was no coincidence. He’d had the card all this time, and he was deliberately showing you.

But, you weren’t going to give in. Not now even if fear was harder to mask when it came from recognition. Mingi leaned on his seat, his gaze sharpening into something more analytical rather than predatory. “Something wrong?” He asked, almost innocently.

You shook your head, putting on a smile that you hoped didn’t resemble a grimace. “No, Sir—”

“Mingi.”

“—I was just wondering what my job description would be,” you finished, digging your nails into your palms. “M-Mingi.” 

A pause. His brows raised ever so slightly. There was a soft, almost inaudible, exhale of satisfaction from him before he went back to inspecting the stack of paperwork in his hands. “I reviewed your resumé,” he spoke, plucking said resumé from the stack. “Very impressive. Your previous company was tactless for letting you slip away.”

And there it was again. He was back at being eloquent. You watched as his eyes skimmed through your resumé, nodding imperceptively the longer he went on. You might even go as far as say that this might be the only time he was truthful with his words and actions. “If I didn’t know better,” he went on, voice lowering just enough to demand your full attention, “I’d assume they were giving you to me on a silver platter.”

Mingi didn’t miss the flicker in your expression. “Anyway,” he continued, the air shifting back into something more cutthroat. “To put this simply, I am in need of a personal translator. I do business with important people overseas and most of the time, you can imagine how challenging the language barrier could be especially if there is a lot at stake.” He paused, letting you absorb the information. “I do not always have the liberty of hiring different people all the time for that. We’re talking massive corporate leviathans here, Y/N. Things that simply cannot be common knowledge for the masses. Are you following me so far?”

You nodded. “I need discretion,” he continued smoothly, eyes hardening aggressively. “And efficiency. I will never compromise on those two. I will expect nothing less than perfection, certainly not while the vultures await. They only feed on decaying matter, after all.”

You straightened slightly. You were beginning to see why KQ was at the top echelon of the business world and why it was difficult to get in. “Understood.”

“I don’t repeat instructions. I don’t find pleasure being with people who waste my time and breath,” he added, almost conversationally. “Nor do I tolerate delays disguised as effort.”

There it was again, that edge that wasn’t loud nor overt, but unmistakably cutting nonetheless. You nodded once. “You won’t have to.”

“Good,” he said, seemingly pleased with your answer. He taps the resumé with his pen twice. “As I said, your credentials are impressive enough for me to overlook your limited vision. I only need you to hear and speak. If your achievements are what you say they are, then it won’t be of any hindrance.”

You could feel him watching you. Not curiously, but with the kind of attention that dissected reactions down to the smallest fracture. He was sizing you up, confirming if you had what it takes. “When do I start?” You asked, voice steady by sheer force and will.

He raised a brow, clearly fascinated. The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly, though there was nothing warm about it. “Interesting,” Mingi murmured, almost thoughtful, twirling his pen with his fingers absentmindedly. “You have maintained composure so far where other people would have folded. I admire your tenacity, Y/N. Truly.”

Your throat felt dry. He was talking about business, he had to be. The double entendre was difficult to ignore, however, it didn’t feel like he was just talking about this, but this was probably paranoia on your end. “I have been told I had plenty,” you replied curtly.

Another ghost of that smirk. “Yes,” he murmured, more to himself. “I’m beginning to see that.”

He straightened before you could react, snapping back into place like nothing had happened. “Your role, should you accept the opportunity I’m willing to extend to you,” he said, now all business again. “Will be as important as mine. You are the bridge of communication, the deciding factor on whether KQ stays afloat or sinks beyond. Failure is not an option.”

You nodded, grateful for the clarity. You could do that. It was work you understood and could control. “And if I don’t?” You asked, deliberately.

His eyes held yours, glinting with something that refused to be challenged. “You can either follow the rules, break them, or answer to me.”

There were no traces of threat in that statement, but that lingering tension stayed in your chest. Your own fear was twisting his words into something they weren’t. “So,” he continued expectantly. “What say you, Y/N?”

To leave was diving into uncertainty, but to stay was entering the belly of the beast. You nodded firmly, effectively choosing the lesser of two evils.  It was beginning to feel like a crossroads deal with the devil rather than a business transaction. “Now that we got all of that out of the way,” he said. “I do have one small favour to ask of you.”

“I’ll try my best to accommodate,” you said.

“Might I see the eyes of the person that’ll be with me and my business for most of the time? Plus, I reckon it’s proper etiquette to remove any sort of outdoor eyewear in front of your boss.”

You stopped breathing. Your sunglasses. It was the only thing blocking your eyes from him, the thing making it easier to pretend you weren't actually blind. You took a moment, not doing anything under his scrutiny, frozen under the weight of his unyielding expectancy. You gritted your teeth, upset that you couldn’t worm your way out of this one without being questioned.

In the end, you lowered your head not out of submission, but out of necessity, forcing your vision to blur; to dull itself into nothingness even if you’d be looking the devil in the eye once you remove the protective barrier that was keeping you somewhat safe. But the moment you looked up, your soul nearly left your body.

The fountain pen Mingi was holding was right there, the sharp, gleaming tip of it hovering only a couple of inches away from your left eye. He pointed the nib so close that if you blinked, your lashes would graze the metal - so close that you could feel it. Not just the grizzly pressure of it against your cornea if he actually pressed it, but the coldness the metal radiated.

The fear had left you petrified from where you sat. One wrong reaction - one wrong move - and it’s over. You might actually lose your eyesight for real. You swallowed your terror, willing your eyes to stay unfocused, compelling yourself to not see the pen and Mingi, himself.

And through your bleary vision, you could clearly see the way his lips fought to stay still, how he tried not to let out a smile. “You have beautiful eyes,” he remarked casually like he wasn’t about to stab your cornea. “Such shame. It would’ve been a delight to see those peepers sparkle. Have you never seen your own eyes, Y/N?”

Oh, God. The nerve of this maniac, you internally panicked, vision wavering dangerously as you fought for your body to stay rigid. “At some point, I might have. I’ve long forgotten. I tend to…forget things easily,” you replied confidently, praying that he got the message - that you wouldn’t tell a soul what you saw that dreadful day on the trail.

The corners of his mouth finally gave in, amusement dancing faintly in his eyes. “Do you?” Mingi clicked his tongue, sounding deceivingly thoughtful if it wasn’t for how predatory his face actually looked. “Because I don’t.”

His hand shifted, the pen tilting closer by a fraction. It was just enough to make your heart lurch violently against your chest. You could already imagine it, the promise of pure pain once that sharp metal nib goes through your eye, yet still, you refused to move, not daring to even take a breath in for fear of accidentally stabbing yourself in the eye, instead.

You saw him nod to himself, running his tongue painfully slow against his bottom lip as if he was impressed at your show of obstinacy. “That’s alright,” he hummed thoughtfully, voice deceptively soft. It was terrifying. If you were actually blind, you would have genuinely thought he was comforting you because he sounded so gentle.

“Though I must say,” he added. “Do forgive this ignorant man, but for someone who’s blind, I’m surprised at the clarity of your eyes. They look so clear and unclouded.”

Before you could spiral, a voice from behind you cleared their throat - someone you didn’t know was there until they spoke out. That should’ve scared you, and it did because that meant they've been there all along, silently watching all of this unfold. But for now, you could consider them your saving grace because you were running out of excuses.

“Cut it out, Mingi. Not everyone who is blind has those milky eyes you’re thinking of,” a man spoke disapprovingly. 

Mingi’s eyes shifted to look behind you. His eyes, God, the way they glared at whoever this mystery person was nothing short of terrorizing. They were so soulless and predatory, but that wasn’t why it shook you, because for a second, it was like looking at him two weeks ago again. It was the same look he had as he stared at that man seconds before he pulled the trigger.

“Right,” he murmured, finally lowering the pen and allowing you to breathe. He paused, taking in a breath before he returned to that professionalism you were starting to abhor. “My apologies. I have a lot to learn. Anyway, that would be my personal assistant.”

“Kim Hongjoong,” the mystery man introduces himself. You stood up, purposefully bowing in the wrong direction, to which he chuckled lightheartedly. “I appreciate that. We’ll be working very closely together. I handle Mingi’s affairs a lot.”

You smiled tightly, curious as to why Hongjoong gave a pointed look at the taller man. “Affairs as in now. You have a meeting with the finance department,” he continued, glaring heatedly. Your gaze flickered between the two men. Something was off. You’ll have to observe more next time, so for now, you tucked this information away for later.

“You’ll be hearing from him more than you will from me,” Mingi said, already shifting, already moving on like nothing had happened. Your attention snapped back to him. “He handles my schedule. Hongjoong will e-mail them to you. You can return next Monday”

Your stomach twisted. “M-Monday?”

“Yes, my dear. Monday,” he chuckled, amused, already halfway to the door. “I’m giving you a week to prepare yourself because once you start, there will be no turning back. I’ll have Yunho arrange for someone to escort you home,” he added over his shoulder.

The words settled into the room like a verdict. And before you could even process it, he was gone.

Working at KQ proved to be rewarding and challenging at the same time. Everyone either loved or feared Mingi, but for the most part, it was both. And working for him has proven to be conflicting for you. You haven’t seen him much, which you were honestly very thankful for, however, he did keep you at arms length.

Perhaps, he just wanted to keep a close eye on you because you exclusively worked inside his personal office, sitting all day on his cushy leather couch. Even Yunho found it fascinating.

Mingi was good at what he did. Painfully so, because the results were hard to deny. He didn’t waste time, didn’t tolerate incompetence, and had a way of cutting through problems so cleanly it left everyone else scrambling to keep up. You hated that you were impressed. Beneath the fear you had, he earned the power he held over everyone and you hated admitting it.

But at the same time, he made things a little smoother for you. Or at least, he sent someone to make things easier for you. Seonghwa was heaven sent, a ray of sunshine, if you will. He was the opposite of what this cutthroat industry stood for - very bubbly and energetic. He was the sweetest person, and that in itself made this place more bearable.

But you knew better. This wasn’t just a random act of kindness from your boss. This was Song Mingi, and Mingi was cunning. This was him exerting control even in unconventional senses such as adjusting his variables to make sure you stayed exactly where he wanted you to.

“Y/N, sweetie, are you alright? You still haven’t told me what you wanted,” Seonghwa’s soft and comforting voice spoke, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You almost turned to look at him, mildly startled, but you stopped yourself at the last second. “Sorry,” you apologised sheepishly. “I was just thinking. What were you saying?”

“I brought coffee and tea, I didn’t know which one you wanted so I figured I’d buy both so you could pick one to sip on while we work,” he said, already setting things down without waiting for a response, his voice bright and alive in a way that warmed you up. He was a nice man, and you felt bad for deceiving him, but no one can know you weren’t blind.

You blinked, momentarily thrown off before managing a small smile. “I prefer tea. Thank you, you didn’t have to–”

“Of course I did,” he cut in cheerfully, waving you off like it was obvious, already sitting down next to you. “Let’s start now so you can leave early. I get worried every time you go home with the sun gone. Same as usual, yeah? Just forgive my crappy Mandarin.”

This was the arrangement. Seonghwa would read, you would translate, and he would write it down. Luckily, you didn’t get much written documents, and computers were easy to worm your way out of since you managed to convince Hongjoong that voice-to-text worked well for you, and Mingi seemed to have no problem with it so long as the work got done.

It was the in-person business transactions that you were nervous about. So far, Mingi hasn’t taken you out to speak for major clientele, but he wasn’t lying when he said he worked for the big sharks. Three weeks shy in and you were already exhausted drafting and translating contracts and paperwork for him. Until today.

You were halfway through the document when the door to the office opened. Your back automatically straightened, eyes dulling themselves even further, when Mingi strolled in. You didn’t even have to look at him; you could just feel the immense power he exuded from his presence, alone, and how one glance could silence the room.

He didn’t greet either of you nor looked in your direction, just striding straight towards his desk to review some paperwork that was waiting for him to sign. You loosen up a bit. When Mingi was in the zone, he barely paid attention to his surroundings. Or is that what he wanted you to think? You didn’t care so long as he didn't acknowledge you at all. And you liked it that way.

The only thing that could be heard was the rustling of paper as Mingi flipped some documents, Seonghwa reading, and your whispers of translation. Times like these also allowed you to pay attention to his mannerisms. He didn’t have a lot, but it was the little things that truly scared you.

Like right now with his brows furrowed, eyes narrowed into slits as he furiously scribbled. It brought you dread when you realised down the line that he showed more expression to mere documents more than he ever did pulling that trigger on that man on the trail.

He had taken the liberty to take his coat off, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled neatly to his elbows, revealing muscled forearms that you were unable to look away from. Another thing that frustrated you to no end was that the more you observed Mingi, the harder it was to deny that he was very attractive. Had the circumstances been different, he would’ve been your type.

“How long until you’re done?” Mingi suddenly asked, voice hushed in the quietness of the office, still not bothering to look up.

“In about twenty minutes or so,” you blurted out, slightly startled, but more so annoyed at yourself for checking him out.

“Make it five. You’re coming with me.”

You could practically feel your hackles rise because, of course, nothing about this job was ever going to be simple. “Pardon?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Did I stutter?” Mingi retorted flatly, barely audible. Your heart almost leapt out of your chest when he turned lazily to you. “I vaguely recall telling you that I don’t particularly enjoy repeating instructions,” he drawled slowly. “Those aren’t empty words, Y/N. You told me you understood.”

You had to physically stop your face from visibly souring and glaring heatedly at him, stiffly just nodding in response while mumbling a half-hearted apology. True to his words, he stood up exactly five minutes after, giving you one glance as if to say, ‘Follow me’, before leaving. All without even waiting for you. 

So there you were, marching through the office like a spectacle, eyes wide open but empty, as if you’ve truly mastered the art of pretending to unsee. Mingi created quite a distance between you two and you’ve barely managed to catch up with him before he went in the elevator. “Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?” You inquired faintly in the tight area of the elevator as its doors closed.

Through your peripherals, you caught Mingi’s lips quirk into a small smirk. “You are,” he replied, pressing a floor button. “Am I required to answer them?”

Your lips curve down into a frown, brain buffering for a split second. Mingi seemed to sense your distress and let out a deep chuckle. “I’m taking you on a little trip around the company,” he said. “I reckon it’s good for you to map out a layout in your head so you could develop some sort of muscle memory to make up for your lack of sight.”

That made sense. And you hated that it did. If you were actually blind, you would’ve been all over the moon. You swallowed nervously, dread crawling up your spine bit by bit the more the elevator rose. You did not like any of this one bit. The silence was stifling. It was hard to breathe especially with him so close. Mingi was a snake; he was constricting and looking away would be a fatal mistake. You didn’t even want to blink because you know he’ll be there, slithering around the brush, waiting to coil himself around you. 

You were startled back into sensibility when you heard a ‘ding’. You have arrived, and you didn’t know where. Before you could even ask, Mingi walked out and you had no choice but to move after him. At least you were behind him; it allowed you to look around freely.

But the moment you lifted your head to take in your surroundings, your heart dropped to your feet. This floor looked desolated, abandoned at best, like construction had started but never fully finished. Lights worked, but it was dim, and the walls weren’t even painted, leaving exposed wiring behind unfinished panels.

“Right this way,” Mingi said smoothly like nothing about this was unusual. “We’re heading near the HR department, for starters.”

Your face turned green with the intense need to vomit. A damn lie, it was, because in no shape or form were you near said department. You had half the mind to turn around and run back to the elevator, and the further you walked, the more you wanted to. But then, he stopped right in front of a suspicious looking door.

“This,” he said, already turning the handle to open it. “Is one of our private conference rooms. We could start here, but not to worry, everything is…everything is on the same floor.”

Panic spiked through you, but you had no choice but to swallow it down and walk through, and you didn’t know what you were expecting, but it was certainly not an empty room. No furniture, no dividers, no equipment, no nothing. Just a large, open space with bare floors and large windows that emphasized how empty it was. There were no signs of use and no signs of life; just too much space. It was  somehow the most claustrophobic room you’ve ever been in. To make matters worse, you heard Mingi shut the door behind you.

“Let’s begin,” Mingi murmured, but it was loud as it reverberated around emptiness. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “I’ll tell you where to go, you just have to listen. Fair?”

You nodded stiffly, not knowing what he was planning to do, but judging by the toothy, wolfish grin spread wide on his lips that screamed of danger, it wasn’t anything good. “Perfect,” he said. “Just give me a couple of steps forward.”

And you did, mechanically dragging your foot to make that first step, opting to stop when it felt right. “Good,” you heard him say. There was a pregnant pause in the air before he continued again. “Actually, let’s try that again. A few steps back, please.”

Your lips twitched in perplexity, not knowing where he was going with this. Somehow, retracing your steps made your feet feel heavier than moving forward. You were back where you started by the door with Mingi to your far left still leaning against that wall, still staring intently at you as if he was waiting for you next move. Kind of like how he watched you that day in the forest to see what you’d do after he shot that man.

“Turn to your right. Walk approximately ten steps forward,” he finally said. You followed. “Now turn to the left. It leads to another room.”

You took a deep breath, walking into said ‘room’ anyway. “Forward a bit, then turn left,” he instructed, and again, you followed. “That’s another conference room.”

You swallowed the urge to scream at him that there was no room; that there was absolutely nothing. You could only hum, hoping to sound enthusiastic as you felt him getting closer. “You best remember that, love,” he commented. Dread crept up your insides. He sounded a little too happy, letting that polite mask slip away for a moment to enjoy whatever this humiliation ritual was. “Anyway, there’s a door in front of you, doll.”

Gritting your teeth to reel in your annoyance, you lifted a shaky hand to play along, letting out a convincing hum of confusion and surprise when you felt nothing but air. “Ah,” he said lightly. “Maybe this is too advanced. Next time, I suppose.”

God, you just wanted to go back to translating with Seonghwa, but instead, you’ve become a clown walking forward and backwards into an empty room, kind of like a child with a vivid imagination playing maze. “Turn around,” you heard him say. “Walk until I say stop.”

He wasn’t there when you turned around. That would mean he was behind you. Your knees almost buckled because you didn’t even hear him walk at all. You did as told, each step stretching just a little too long in the silence. But as you moved, your worry increased. This was the longest you’ve walked so far and he hasn’t told you to stop yet.

You waited for him to say something, anything, because you were a couple of steps away from colliding into the wall. The next couple of steps had you sweating, breathing heavily as you tried to walk normally, pretending that you weren’t about to get a nasty bump on your forehead from purposefully smacking face forward a concrete wall - all to make him still believe you’re blind.

Several steps from impact and you could already feel your legs hesitating to move forward, your pace stuttering, but you pushed, adjusting your steps accordingly to make everything still seem believable. You waited up until the very last few steps, but when you heard nothing from Mingi, you instinctively closed your eyes as the wall got closer, bracing for impact.

“Stop.”

The word snapped through the air just as your nose hovered a breath away from the surface. You halted instantly, biting your tongue to stop the startled squeak that threatened to leave your lips, not feeling any pain at all from the adrenaline and the fear pumping into your bloodstream.

“Careful,” Mingi murmured, his voice just behind your shoulder now, lips barely touching your ear. “There’s a wall here. You’ll want to remember that.” 

A soft, nervous laugh left you, controlled but imperfect. “I-I will,” you stammered. 

Goosebumps erupted all over your skin when he chuckled, low and amused, directly in your ears. “Yeah?” He whispered. Shivers broke out of you at his tone, especially when you felt him smile against the shell of your ear. You nodded. “You sure?”

You felt him blow the faintest air onto your skin. “Hmm. I like it when people listen,” Mingi whispered again, voice going even heavier in a way that had your stomach churning. He paused, like he was giving you grace to take it all in. “Especially when they know they should.”

You fought the instinct to break through this newfound tension. You were very aware of how little close you were - how easy it would be to move, and how impossible it felt to actually do it. “I said I would,” you replied, though your voice came out quieter than you intended. 

“I know, but saying it and proving it…” Mingi let the sentence trail off, the implication settling in the charged silence between you. Your breath hitched when you saw his hands settle on the wall on either side of your head, effectively trapping you in. “...I wonder how far that goes,” he finished. “Anyway, let’s continue.”

You sighed in relief when he pulled away, though you weren’t sure if that was better. He was back at it with his instruction, and this time, he’s double the intensity. “Try again,” he instructed, clearly amused at your mistakes. “I said move slightly, not do a full swerve. Again.”

And again. Again. And again. Again and again and again. Mingi made you turn, then walk. Stop. Back. Forward. Shift. Over and over and over again. Your steps grew heavier, your legs starting to ache, your breathing less steady no matter how hard you tried to hide it. And through it all, he watched you. Still, you had to continue with gritted teeth.

Your patience thinned as he watched you walk yourself into humiliation like it was the most entertaining thing in the world. But you moved because stopping wasn’t an option, especially not when Mingi resembled a predator observing a prey exhaust itself, just lying in wait before he struck to take advantage of your vulnerability.

Every time you turned, you caught glimpses of him. His expression remained composed, but his eyes were alert and focused, waiting to see if your blind act was about to fail as he followed every single movement you made. And he was enjoying this, you could tell. The faint curl at the corner of his mouth when you adjusted yourself mid-motion was more than enough to tell you.

“That’ll be all, Y/N. You can stop now,” Mingi said, his voice returning to that composed, professional tone as if you weren’t breathing hard in exhaustion. As if he didn’t just make you go for a loop in an empty room to strip you of your dignity.

You couldn’t even reply, couldn’t even push him away when he put his hand to your shoulder to lead you back into the elevator. Your pulse still hasn’t settled, skin still tingling where his hand was, but you weren’t going to complain now you were about to go back to normalcy.

“You did well,” he said softly as the elevator doors opened back to the floor where his office was. He stepped out, walking away as if nothing had happened. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You watched as he walked away, frozen where he placed you in the elevator. Whatever happened back there felt like a fever dream, and you still haven’t woken up. On the outside, nothing felt out of place but on the inside, something shifted because before, you were just afraid of seeing him kill someone.

But now? You were afraid of him.

Mingi didn’t stop there. There were little instances here and there, not much to alarm you, but enough to put you on edge. It’s been a little over a month by then. The dread never left, not even the hefty paycheque you received was enough to ease that paranoia beneath your skin. You still didn’t see him often and so far, he technically hasn’t bothered you or done anything. 

But when he did do something, it was when you were the most ill-prepared; like a demon waiting for you to fall asleep before infiltrating your dreams and terrorising you when you least expected it, and by the time you realised he was there, you would have already been too paralysed to stop him.

It started small, as if he was testing how far he could go before you noticed, like giving you the wrong files to translate. Or that one time he turned on his obnoxiously bright desk lamp and pointed it on your face while you worked.

“Something bothering you, love?” Mingi asked, almost innocently, as if he wasn’t currently adjusting the lamp to beam it directly in your eyes, his tongue sticking out of lips a little in concentration. “You seem a little distracted.”

You felt your eyes tick, not because you’ve been forcing them wide open and pretending that lights weren’t bothering you, but because you were annoyed at the audacity of this man and his ability to get away with anything - all because he thinks you couldn’t see him. Black spots began to dance behind your eyes, the telltale signs of a debilitating migraine beginning to creep up your temples as the ache came in throbbing waves.

“Everything’s fine,” you let out weakly.

Mingi hummed softly at that, his fingers deftly clicking the lamp to amp it up to its maximum brightness. You had to dig your nails painfully in your palms to stop yourself from blinking as your vision burned, but still, you could see the smugness in his features, all while his eyes watched you. “Carry on,” was all he said after.

And then nothing after that for days, but that was the problem, because he would do them so randomly and sporadically that when you thought you were in the clear, you really weren’t. If Mingi was feeling especially heinous, he’d sometimes move your computer files and hide them in different folders, which would be already difficult for abled people, let alone for someone who is especially visually challenged. You’d just grit your teeth and move forward, all while his sharp, menacing shadow towered over you.

“Just call me whenever you need something, alright?” Jongho kindly handed you back the laptop after finding the right files for you and one day Mingi moved them. He let out a confused hum. “Perhaps we could ask Mr. Song to fix your laptop. It’s been acting up more than usual.”

You let out a nervous laugh. Jongho raised a brow, but decided not to say anything. The two of you had gotten closer over the following weeks and he’s honestly been your saving grace in times like these. He was a sweetheart, always offering to buy you lunch or drive you home whenever he could. It was times like these where you genuinely felt bad for lying to him.

But Jongho can’t possibly help you with everything. One thing Mingi was consistent about, however, was his work ethics. Mingi let out a sharp sigh, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose while his other hand drummed against the table.

“You think this is good enough, Y/N?” He asked, tone flat and unimpressed. He was strict, very much so, to the point that there were times where you were afraid to submit your proposals to him. “No. Actually, let me rephrase that.” 

He shuts the laptop off, eyes lifting to you, his back straightening against his chair. “Did you even read this before sending them to me? Or did you honestly think I just sign off every paperwork that gets sent my way without checking them for marginal errors?”

Your throat tightened. Mingi wasn’t loud when he was upset. Even when he tested your sanity with his stupid games, Mingi never compromised when it came to work. “My apologies, I’ll revise it as soon as possible,” you assured.

“I know you tried your best,” he crossed his arms. “But that’s exactly what makes it disappointing. I’ll let this slide. Go home. Yunho will finish this mess.”

Surprise crosses your features and you opened your mouth to argue, but decided against it. Not when his eyes left no room for debate. It wasn’t personal, but the brutal honesty in which he laid his expectations landed on your chest hard, and the worst part? He was usually right.

Soon, Mingi began taking you to meet important people like he said he would before he hired you. If Mingi was intimidating in the confines of his office, then he was downright terrifying around the people he did business with to the point that you had no idea how he was able to stay up top as long as he did. Hongjoong laughed when you spoke your thoughts out loud.

“It’s not just him,” he said, gently leading you inside one of the private rooms in the upscale restaurant. “You have to constantly one up everyone because they will not hesitate to bury you in this business, Y/N. Mingi just so happens to be the best at what he does.”

And you understood why. You saw how even those older than him with far more power and experience measured their words around him before saying them. Mingi just had this uncanny ability to dismantle people. Today, you sat next to Hongjoong while Mingi sat to your right, listening intently to you as you translated in real time, voice smooth and professional.

“This is preposterous,” the overseas investor from China scoffed at you, his confidence slipping the longer Mingi remained expressionless. “Tell Mr. Song here that I have a proposition.”

Indeed, he did, by giving a lower number - a number so low that even you knew that no sane businessman would take it seriously. You were visibly taken aback, pausing for a beat too long that Hongjoong had to nudge your foot with his subtly under the table. You swallowed nervously, already knowing that Mingi was going to hate this.

And he did. He nodded slowly, eyes narrowing for a split second before he neutralised his expression. He doesn’t speak yet, just pouring liquor into his shot glass. “Salud,” he cheered, lifting the glass up towards the investor who just spoke. “This one’s especially for you, fucker.”

Your head whips towards him, that smile on his face that you knew screamed danger flashing brightly as he downed his drink, followed by the merry cheers of the foreign nationals who were none wiser that they were getting cursed right in front of their faces. 

It was the first time you’ve ever heard Mingi curse, and you didn’t know what to feel about it. He was always so proper and composed and that anything outside of that realm bothered you more than it should’ve because you didn’t know which one was the character he was choosing to play in front of you versus the entire world. As if things couldn’t get worse, a thin trail of liquor slipped from the corner of his mouth, trickling down his sharp jaw down to his throat.

Warmth bloomed dangerously low in your stomach, but thankfully - or, perhaps, not - that heat vanished from your body when he spoke his next words. “Tell him,” Mingi said calmly. “That I can see why people stopped explaining things around him, that I envy people who would never hear how much of an imbecile he and his ideas are. If he wants to rob KQ that badly, at least haggle like a man. I’ve seen kids do it better for candy.”

The investor blinked at you expectantly, unaware, and beside you, Hongjoong went unnaturally still, but all you could do was freeze. You wanted to reword it, to soften the blow, but you must have hesitated for far too long because Mingi turned to you, his eyes cold and expectant.

“Well?” Mingi demanded, impatience creeping into his tone. “Word for word, Y/N. I want to hear it.”

Your throat was tight, but you forced yourself to translate, trying your best to not let your voice shake. “H-He says,” you cleared your throat, discomfort crawling up your spine. “That he can see why people stopped explaining things around you. A-And that he envies people who would never hear how much of an imbecile you and your ideas are…”

The investors’ polite expression drops immediately. God, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. The embarrassment was too much, every word tasted horribly against your tongue. “If you want to rob KQ so badly,” you spoke, or rather, squeaked. “Haggle like a man because he’s seen kids do it better for candy.”

The investors’ darkened faces stared at you in disbelief for a second before all hell broke loose. Slurs and curses were thrown all over the place, but all you could focus on were Mingi’s eyes on you and the small, satisfied smile on his face. And then it hits you. Provoking these investors wasn’t his only target.

Making you sit there and deliver those words for him amused him far more. You watched as his eyes landed on your ears, the tips of them red from the sheer secondhand embarrassment, and a faint smirk tugs on the corner of his lips.

“Well, that went terrific,” Hongjoong sarcastically let out as the three of you walked out of the restaurant, side-eyeing Mingi with intent while he helped you walk out, hands still as gentle as when he guided you in earlier.

You chose not to say anything, opting to stare blankly forward to keep up the act, periodically squeezing Hongjoong’s arm when you’d hit a bump or two. Mingi just smirks, amusement dancing in his eyes, walking as if he didn’t just botch an entire business transaction by letting his intrusive thoughts win.

“I don’t know, I’d say that went pretty well,” he shrugged, his indifference evident as he opened his car door, pausing to stare at the both of you. “Meet me back at the office. I reckon Seonghwa will have a field day after this. You tell him.”

You barely stopped yourself from raising a brow. Hongjoong stiffens under your touch, an unimpressed frown crossing his face, eyes narrowing with obvious annoyance. “Wait, why me? Do I really have to?”

“Yes. You’re my assistant, after all,” Mingi replied without missing a beat. He let out a condescending smile when Hongjoong’s eyes twitched. “Relax. He has a soft spot for you.”

Hongjoong was about to retort when Mingi gave him a look - a look that had Hongjoong pausing, glancing carefully at you as if he just remembered that they weren’t alone - before the shorter man rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered, turning to lead you away. “Anyway, I’ll drive Y/N—”

“No,” Mingi interjected. “I’ll do it. Put her in.”

Without waiting for a reply, he gets in his car. And that was how you found yourself in the passenger’s seat of your boss’ car, stiff as a board, staring at the distance not to pretend to unsee, but simply because you couldn’t bear to acknowledge how close Mingi was. “A-Are we not leaving yet?” You couldn’t help but blurt out, not being able to take the awkward silence hanging between the two of you.

“I’m waiting for you,” he murmured.

You frowned, confused. “M-Me? For what?”

“Mhhm,” he hummed. Your stomach churned at how it echoed in your ear. It was a low rumble, warm and smooth like lullabies of despair seducing you in, but you willed it away. “Your seatbelt, sweet pea. I can’t drive without you wearing it.”

Oh, this was dangerous. The way he said it was quiet enough to feel intimate, yet teasing enough to make your pulse skip. Unhurried, you shakily reached for the seatbelt, careful to maintain that blind, dead look in your eyes, but you couldn’t seem to grasp it. Mingi chuckled and the next thing you knew, he was leaning in, reaching for your seatbelt, himself.

A whimper of surprise leaves your lips before you could stop it. His face hovers inches over yours as he clicks the belt into place. He was close, too close, and you thought he was going to lean back, but no. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even seem fazed; he just stares. And you didn’t dare breathe against this intentional proximity that he put the both of you in.

You didn’t even realise that his hand was on your thigh until he gave it a small squeeze, and once again, your stomach churns, but this time, it was with an intensity that made you want to throw up. And all you could do was stare in between his eyebrows, pretending that you were seeing through him instead of at him.

“Funny how we keep finding ourselves in this situation,” he mused in a quiet whisper, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Almost as if we were meant to be here.”

Your brows twitch, not knowing what he was referring to. And then it hits you. Hard. This was the exact position and the exact closeness you had with Mingi that day in the forest. Face to face, his dark eyes dissecting you with that horrifying scrutiny before he wiped that blood that accidentally found its way onto your face. “I-I don’t know what you’re—”

“You should relax around me more,” he murmured, tucking a piece of hair obscuring your face behind your ears with so much gentleness that you wanted to scream. “You’re always so tense.”

And then, without warning, he finally leaned back into his seat. The loss of pressure was so sudden that it made your chest ache even further. He started the car, casually driving as if he didn’t just psychologically terrorise you.

But that was fine, you could handle these because they didn’t necessarily hurt you. All you had to do was ignore Mingi and go on still pretending you couldn’t see everything that he was doing. And you knew he was a psycho, but clearly, he’d been holding himself back.

Mingi drove silently, posture relaxed like nothing was wrong. Eventually, he slowed down, eventually stopping when at a red light. It was the busy intersection that was a couple of blocks away from KQ and you couldn’t wait to get the hell away from this man. But when the lights changed to green, Mingi didn’t move. “We’re here,” he said.

Your stomach dropped, taken aback by what he just said. “Here? A-At the office?”

“Mhhm. Where else?”

It was that same low, intimate hum. Your ears rang amidst the busy traffic all around, the honks of the cars behind you, and the buzzing of cars from multiple directions. “Go ahead. Your friend, Jongho, is waiting for you by the door,” he said.

His words slithered coldly up your spine. No, you thought dreadfully. He wouldn’t. But you knew better. You were in the middle of an intersection. You could see that the lights were red again, but the moment those lights turned back to green, there was a high chance that you would get hit. The thought alone made your vision double, and beside you, Mingi patiently waited, staring at you to see what you were going to do.

Panic clawed up your throat. You grabbed your walking cane and started pushing the door open, because refusing without any valid reason would completely blow your cover away. And then, divine intervention - Mingi’s phone started to ring. The sound of it made the both of you pause. From your peripheral vision, you could briefly see the name of the caller. It was Hongjoong. Mingi’s eyes were still on you, specifically on your hand that held the door handle.

He let out an exhale, as if disappointed that you couldn’t step out into moving traffic.“Close the door, love,” he murmured. “I’ll park at the other entrance. It’s dangerous here.”

You didn’t even hesitate. You slammed that door shut so hard that the entire car rattled with force. Mingi’s lips twitched with a small smile, staring at you for one more second before he finally picked up the call. He wasn’t relieved that you were safe nor was he shaken that you could’ve been hit by a car right in front of his eyes. 

No, Mingi was steady and unbothered. Interested, even, like his stakes had just gone up and he just realised that the possibilities were endless for him so long as you played for him.

Mingi didn’t even wait a week to test that theory out. It was, by far, the worst he’s done not because of what he did, but because of how bold and brazen his acts were becoming. You were working with Seonghwa in your usual spot in his office, but this time, Jongho was also here. He was today’s representative from his department for the monthly report. Then, in comes Yunho, bringing with him cups and a thermos before leaving. It was fresh tea; you could see the steam in your peripheral vision as Jongho poured the boiling hot water into the cups.

You didn’t think much when Mingi walked over to where you and Seonghwa were, placing two cups at the table. This wasn’t out of the norm, Mingi had always treated you well when there were people around for show, but clearly, you’ve been giving this man more credit than he deserved.

“I ordered everyone iced tea from the café across the building,” he whispered silently, only enough for you to hear. “It’s in front of you. Drink it before the ice melts and dilutes it.”

Panic seized your chest so bad that your lungs were burning from how carefully you were trying to control every breath you took. Your body reacted instantly by freezing into place. You wanted to gawk at the audacity of this man because now he was deliberately playing with you right in the presence of other people.

You forced your eyes to dull further as you nodded stiffly while being at a loss for what to do. You knew this man was cunning, but this was insane. If you grabbed the cup properly, that would give away that you could see. If you grab it clumsily, you’d burn your hand with boiling hot tea. If you give any sort of excuses to not drink it, you were done. 

You could feel his eyes on you, sharpening at every second you hesitated to grab the cup. Swallowing, your hands began to jut forward, thinking of a way to touch it without reacting somehow or at least minimise the pain you were about to feel when you burned yourself.

“Ah ah, sweetie,” Seonghwa’s gentle voice cut, intercepting you by guiding your hand away from the cup. “That’s, uh, bland. I’ll be back, I’ll get us some lemons to go with the…iced tea.” 

Mingi merely raised a brow, watching as Seonghwa got up and left the room. He shrugged, not sparing you a glance before he walked back to Jongho, who was still none the wiser as he sipped on his own tea, engrossed in the paperwork Mingi gave him. 

Seonghwa reappeared a minute later, quietly removing the cup of hot tea before replacing it with something actually cold. You had no idea where he got it, but you didn’t dare question it as your trembling fingers wrapped around the cold drink. Through your peripheral vision, you caught the way Seonghwa stared at Mingi.

And you were surprised at how angry he was. The look he gave Mingi was so scathing, more scalding hot than the tea you almost burned yourself with, that it sent more shivers up your spine. You had no idea that someone as gentle as Seonghwa was even capable of such look. Mingi smirked back sardonically, tilting his head mockingly before his eyes set to you.

His eyes stared you down as he sipped his own tea with no particular expression on his face. But his eyes, they looked alive; alive because every second of watching you endure him fed something inexplicably insatiable inside him.

“You don’t look like someone who can’t see.”

Your lips twitched as you forced a smile on your lips, your arms tightening around the laptop you held close to your chest. “I-I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Jung. I’ve been told as such before…”

Mingi didn’t react, not even bothering to look away from his laptop. Though from your peripheral vision, you saw him gaze at you for a few short seconds before letting out a small smile. It was the exact same thing he told you when he interviewed you a few months ago.

Today’s work was a bit different. You were used to leaving to meet up with potential clients and even going as far as traveling outside the country - something you would’ve enjoyed had you had more freedom to move since Mingi used his private jet and he was extremely generous with you and your expenses abroad. But today, KQ would be the meet-up point.

Yesterday, Mingi’s longtime friend, Jung Wooyoung, who also happened to be an investor, owed another company a favour and wanted some connections with KQ. You were surprised since Mingi hated short notices, but judging by the lecherous smirk on his face after that phone call, you’d say he didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed to look forward to it.

You tried not to squirm at the way Wooyoung stared at you through those sharp eyes of his. It wasn’t salacious, by all means, but it was extremely intrusive, like he was trying to read you from the inside out. It was unsettling, and you didn’t know how to avoid it, especially not when his hand started to play with your hair.

“I’m just teasing,” he chuckled. He gives Mingi a meaningful look before turning his attention back at you. “I’m just wondering what’s a pretty lady like you doing in a place like this, is all.”

The snap of a laptop being deliberately shut off is what got Wooyoung to momentarily stop playing with your hair.. Across the room, Mingi had already stood up, walking towards the corner of the office where he had a mini bar set up.

"There are birds that survive storms, Jung,” he murmured, pausing to pour brandy in his glass, swirling it slowly before taking a leisurely sip. “But they rarely survive entering another bird's nest."

You frowned, not really understanding the meaning or intent of what he just said. He sounded so nonchalant - uninterested, even - but the way his eyes bore into Wooyoung through his lashes had the latter blinking before stepping away, hands up in the air with mock surrender as a disbelieving laugh left his lips.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Wooyoung chuckled. “If I didn’t know you I’d have assumed that you preferred your birds to be made out of fine china, Song.”

Mingi just hummed. Wooyoung scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. “So, uh,” he pointed at the brandy Mingi was sipping on. “Are you gonna pour me one?”

“No,” Mingi deadpanned, putting the empty glass down before walking back to his desk. “As I recall, your hands were working perfectly fine earlier. Now, these,” he paused, pointing at the box Wooyoung had brought with him when he arrived. “What are these?”

“That? Oh,” Wooyoung shrugged as he helped himself to a drink. “Premium cherries straight from Japan. Heard that Mr. Yamada was very fond of them, which he better fucking like them because these cost me a pretty penny.” 

“I see,” Mingi murmured. There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. “Little doll?”

You were a bit startled at his sudden attention to you. “Y-Yes?”

“Come here.”

You hesitated, not fully sure what Mingi wanted. Ever since that tea incident, you’ve become more wary of him - more terrified since clearly, an audience was never going to stop him. However, that hesitance must’ve come off as helplessness because you saw Wooyoung’s eyes lit into recognition, immediately leaping to action to guide you by the arm towards Mingi.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to taste test them?” Wooyoung asked casually, raising a brow as Mingi opened the box, revealing the most perfect cherries you have ever seen in your life. You had to make an effort not to drool at the sight. Pretending you couldn’t see them was sad.

Even Mingi was impressed as he let out a soft hum. “Mr. Yamada doesn’t deserve a whole box.”

Wooyoung barked out a laugh as he returned back to the mini bar, leaning against it. “Yeah, I told him you despised tardiness. Even I’m getting pissed that he’s still not here.”

“Anyway,” he continued after taking a quiet sip of brandy. “Will Yunho assist you during the meeting? I didn’t see him in the lobby earlier.”

“Yunho isn’t needed. What I need is my translator,” he answered, eyes lifting up to you slowly. “And she’s right in front of me.”

The way he said it made your stomach tighten. Wooyoung paused, the surprise visible across his entire face. “Your what?” He asked, opening his mouth to say something again. “But—”

“Cherries are supposed to be off-season in Japan right now,” Mingi interrupted smoothly, taking one from the box carefully. “I’m surprised you even got your slimy hands on one box.”

Thick silence enveloped the entire room for a moment longer than what you deemed comfortable. Sometimes, you underestimated how tiring it was to feign sight - to stare at one space and pretend that the world wasn’t moving around you while you tried not to openly make eye contact with anyone because that’ll give you away instantly.

Then, Mingi’s gaze settles onto you. “Have you ever tried one of these?”

You frowned at the random question. “Cherries? Yes. The premium kind? Never.”

Mingi doesn’t respond, only humming in affirmation. Then, slowly, he lifted the cherry to his mouth. You ceased breathing then and there, barely stopping your knees from buckling under the weight of his stare. Heat crept up from your neck all the way to your ears as you watched his thick lips slowly envelope the red cherry with his saliva.

His eyes never left you as his tongue deliberately dragged against it, flicking the fruit left and right before he pulled the stem off with his teeth. It was unhurried and intentional, extremely obscene in the way he licked it with every second that passed between the two of you. Wooyoung could only watch, mouth parted, eyes comically wide in disbelief, but Mingi paid him no mind.

Instead, he leaned forward, plucking the cherry out from his lips to hold it towards your lips. “Open your mouth, love,” he murmured. “Try it.”

The initial disgust almost overpowered you, but refusing wasn’t an option. Reluctantly, you parted your lips to accept the cherry into your mouth. Across the room, Wooyoung let out the strangest little sound.

“Wait—” he squeaked, reaching his hand out instinctively, but it was too late. He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut, biting into his fists, visibly cringing at the inappropriateness.

All you felt was the instantaneous heat that spread through your body. Sweetness automatically burst into your mouth, but underneath that was an undertone that didn’t belong in cherries - mint. The taste hit you so hard that your stomach flipped. It was the same scent you always caught on Mingi’s breath whenever he got too close, which happened more often than not.

Mingi didn’t react - at least, not in the usual way he did. The smirk that was always plastered on his face whenever he did something heinous was missing and the amusement that always danced in his eyes was absent. Instead, his eyes were dark, gaze heavy with intent as something unreadable settled over his features.

It was almost possessive in a way that made your skin crawl, and somehow, that terrified you more than anything he’s ever done. “Good girl,” he whispered quietly, so quietly that you weren’t sure if you were even meant to hear it even though you knew it was for you.

The meeting did not go well. It wasn’t because Mingi had somehow screwed it up on purpose or the client lowballing him enough to make him angry - on the contrary, the meeting went terrific. No, the meeting went horribly for you, specifically, because Mingi kicked you out. Hongjoong was also present but he could tell something was amiss when he came in. Unfortunately, he was smart enough to go to Wooyoung, who had no problem whispering to him what just went down with you and Mingi. Hongjoong’s disgusted, but not surprised, expression was enough to make you want to disappear. 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Mr. Yamada was a raging pervert the entire time. He leered at you the entire time like he was undressing you and the discomfort made it difficult to stay still.

“You’re a beautiful thing, aren’t you?” He grinned, licking his lips in a way that made your stomach churn. “Does Mingi have a thing for hiring pretty translators?”

“T-Thank you,” you forced a smile. “Uhm, about the investments—”

“It’s too bad you’re blind, but I don’t mind. Why don’t you work with me, instead? I can already tell that Mingi doesn’t spoil you properly.” 

Your stomach churned further when he leaned back on his seat, eyes dragging all over you in ways that felt violating. But everybody’s eyes were on you, waiting for you to translate everything despite the way your body stiffened at every malicious stare this man gave you.

“You need better clothes, not these shabby ones,” he stated shamelessly, eyes dipping lower. “And those legs,” he paused to exhale through his nose. “Mingi’s an idiot. If you were with me, I’d dress you up nice to show off this delicate figure of yours…”

It was when his hand started to move to touch you did you actually panic. Suddenly, papers scattered all over the floor near you, making everybody pause. “Oh, geez,” Hongjoong muttered flatly, not even apologetic. “Terribly clumsy today, aren’t we, Jung?”

“Yes,” Wooyoung raised one brow as he stared at the Japanese pervert. “Yes, we are, Kim.”

Hongjoong crouched down to gather the papers, but not before shooting Mr. Yamada a look so cold that it had the older man withdrawing his hands. It was then that you released a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding in.

“Y/N.”

Your spine straightened instantly. That was Mingi. Your stomach dropped because you just realised that all throughout this, he had completely remained silent. “Y-Yes?”

“You’re dismissed.”

You paled. “M-Mingi,” you blurted out in surprise. As much as possible, you tried not to say his name in professional settings even though he allowed you to.  “I didn’t do anything, I swear—”

Mingi gave you a look that made your mouth shut immediately. “I won’t say it twice.”

And that’s how you found yourself walking out of the building with your thoughts spiraling in every direction. At least it was nighttime, you told yourself, sighing as you waited for the elevator. Pretty much all the employees have left and that meant that you didn’t have to stumble around pretending you couldn’t find your way out. For once, you could simply walk normally.

But as you were about to push the door open to leave, you cursed. You left some documents behind, ones you wanted to take home to work on since the deadline was in two days. Suppressing a groan, you begrudgingly turned around to go back to Mingi’s office, already dreading how embarrassing it was going to be.

That embarrassment soon transformed into utter shock when you heard a loud bang when you got to the office floor. You stopped dead in your tracks, eyes widened at how that sound exploded across the empty hallway. No, that can’t be, you thought. But there was no denying it - you knew that sound intimately.

You ran towards the sound before your brain could catch up, stunned at how you ended up right in front of Mingi’s office. The door was slightly ajar, just enough where you could peek in without being seen. You barely stopped the gasp from your lips as you covered your mouth in horror. There, on the couch, lay Mr. Yamada with his head hung at an unnatural angle. Standing over his body was Mingi, gun hung loosely in his hand, face speckled with blood. Your stomach lurched violently, because once again, you were looking at a murderer. Lucky for you this time, he didn’t know you were here. But you, you could see him. You could see how blank his expression was, like he didn’t just casually take another life like it was nothing.

“You out of your fucking mind or something?” Hongjoong asked with one brow raised, his voice breaking the silence that seemed to temporarily make everybody’s world stop for a second.

Mingi merely scoffed and Wooyoung barked out a laugh so hearty, it was almost contagious. “Jesus Christ, Mingi,” he snorted, walking away from the window towards the dead body, nudging the foot with his own. “Can’t believe this is how this old bastard went. Good riddance.”

You felt your knees weaken. No one looked shocked or even sick at the sight of a man getting shot and actively bleeding out against the couch. “Really, Mingi? This was supposed to be a null zone,” Hongjoong sighed, more inconvenienced than disturbed. “You couldn’t wait a few more days? Or, at the very least, get out of here?”

“For what? I’ve been meaning to off the bastard anyway,” Mingi paused to nudge Mr. Yamada’s shoulder with the gun muzzle. “He’s been on the shit list for a while, couldn’t really let the opportunity slip away.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with him eye fucking your translator now, would it?”

Your hand trembled violently against your mouth at the mere mention of you. Mingi plops down the couch, producing a cigarette and lighter out of nowhere. “Nuances,” he mumbled, exhaling smoke rings from his mouth up in the air. “I hate perverts, anyway. They’re very bad for society.”

The absurdity of that made you want to choke. Across the room, Wooyoung lets out another laugh. “Ah, yes. Because fuckers like you are the backbone of society,” he snorted, shamelessly opening the box of cherries to pop one in his mouth. “Anyway, why are you keeping her?”

Mingi doesn’t answer right away, inhaling another slow drag before exhaling. “I already told you why,” he replied, flicking the ash into a crystal tray. “The trail. I need to keep a close eye on her.”

Your heart stopped, coldness washing over your body. He knew. He’s always known. To be fair, if you recognised him immediately months ago, Mingi wasn’t a fool to not recognise you either, but hearing it made it ten times worse than it already was. Hongjoong immediately frowns. “Fuck’s sake, Mingi. She’s blind.”

That made Mingi pause. He turns his head, eyes darkened into something you’ve never seen before, one that made bile rise up your throat. “Is that supposed to mean anything?” 

“Song Mingi,” Hongjoong hissed. “There are rules to this—”

“Kim Hongjoong. Don’t test me, I may be in a good mood, but I’m warning you,” Mingi stated. The temperature in the room dropped instantly. His voice never rose, but something about it made your skin prickle. “Rules are suggestions until I deem them otherwise.” Heavy and uncomfortable silence followed. It was a subtle threat, one that made you understand why Mingi was to be feared in the first place. Mingi leaned back against the couch, his gaze fixed on Hongjoong, unblinking and calculated. The corners of his mouth twitched when Hongjoong sighed before looking away in exasperation.

Wooyoung tossed another cherry stem onto the table. “Christ,” he muttered. “She’s of no use to you, just let her go, you sadist.”

“Mhhm,” Mingi hummed, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Sorry,” he said. “Can’t do it.”

“Can’t?” Wooyoung echoed, eyes narrowed knowingly. “Or won’t? Does Yeosang even know?”

Mingi didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at him. Instead, he grabs a nearby cloth to wipe all the blood off of him. “Clean this up,” he ordered, standing up to adjust his sleeves. “I don’t give a fuck what Yeosang thinks. I’ll bust his head open if he has a problem with it. Anyway, I need a favour.”

“Don’t bother. He already knows and he’s not happy,” Hongjoong scoffed, gesturing towards Mr. Yamada. “What’s more important than dragging this piece of shit out here without being seen?”

“Of course he does, he’s Kang fucking Yeosang,” he snarled, tossing the bloodied cloth onto the corpse’s chest without a care in the world. “Go to the mall. You’re going shopping.”

You didn’t stay further, running to the exit as quietly and as fast as you can. By the time you reached the exit, your stomach gave out entirely, barely making it to the sidewalk before dropping to your knees and proceeding to vomit out everything you ate. Tears blurred your vision, your entire body shook, but the bile still burned your throat.

When you were done, you pulled out your phone, your trembling fingers barely able to dial the person you needed the most. “S-Sannie?” You squeaked when he picked up on the first ring, not being able to hold your tears any longer. “Can you pick me up from work?”

You didn’t know how you were going to return to work today pretending that everything was fine. You’ve thought about it over the weekend, drunk out of your mind with San convincing you to just quit at that point. He wasn’t wrong; you were working in a den full of monsters. But you knew there was no point - if Mingi found you once, he would find you again just as easily.

You were expecting to see Seonghwa or Mingi, himself, but to your surprise, there was no one, which was odd because you knew Mingi always arrived before anyone else. A part of you was relieved because you had no idea how you'd face Mingi but another part of you wanted to throw up because the office was pristine, no traces of anything heinous occurring at all.

A thought crosses your mind - would you be crazy if you tried to find some proof of Mingi's illicit affairs? You contemplated it. You couldn't pretend to be blind forever, it was getting harder because your emotions were getting difficult to contain, but you needed leverage in case he tried to do something to you - in case he decided that you weren’t worth keeping anymore.

With nothing to lose, you started rummaging through his drawers, careful not to mess anything up. The first few ones rendered nothing, until you got to the very bottom. There was only one folder in there. You frowned, picking it up and inspecting it. It was plain black with no company logo on it or any department, but it did have a label on it.

Confidential: High-Value Targets, and beneath it were the letters, K.O.S. Your brows furrowed, what the hell does that even mean? Opening it made less sense. Inside were names and dates, some of them crossed out, but before you could try to understand what this all meant, you heard voices right outside by the door.

“Hongjoong has sordid taste,” Seonghwa’s familiar voice stated. Your blood runs cold, nearly dropping the folder. “Christ, do I have to do everything around here? Promote me or something.”

As if things weren’t bad enough, you heard Mingi let out a short unimpressed sound. “Says you. Anyway, are you going home?” He asked, changing the subject.

You scrambled to put everything back into place, barely reaching the couch to sit on it as if you weren’t just snooping. “No,” Seonghwa scoffed as he pushed the doors open. “I have the gala to arrange—oh, Y/N, good morning,” he greeted warmly with a smile that always eased you.

But Mingi did not. Instead, his eyes lingered on you, assessing you more than usual, or was that your paranoia talking? Maybe not, especially when his eyes settled on his desk, then back at you. Your pulse climbed to your throat when Mingi shook his head, almost affectionately, a small smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth.

You thought he was going to say something about it, but instead, he turned to Seonghwa, relieving him of the several shopping bags hanging from his arm. “Wait, not this,” Seonghwa said, taking the smallest one before approaching you.

“Here,” he smiled, placing the bag on the couch beside you. “I stopped by that bakery we talked about one time and got reminded of you. I hope you like them, they’re just an assortment of pastries.”

Your eyes lit in surprise, touched that he even remembered such mundane information. “Seonghwa,” you said, heart squeezing in regret that you couldn’t express your thanks properly since you still had to pretend you were blind. “Thank you, really.”

Unfortunately, he had to leave after. Seonghwa had always been very kind to you, always sincere with his words and never tried to dupe you because you were ‘blind.’ The problem was, now you were alone with Mingi in the room. Nothing ever good came with being alone with Mingi.

For a moment, he simply observed you, but he, too, probably felt the weight of the silence. “You won’t be doing your usual work today,” he said.

You blinked, not expecting that at all. “What am I doing, then?”

Instead of replying, Mingi walks towards you and sets the bags down. You stiffened, the closer he got, the harder it became to control your expressions, and when his fingers gently closed around yours, your heart took a massive leap. He guided your hand forward, letting your fingertips brush against the bags. By the time he stopped, you counted no less than fifteen.

You gulped. No wonder Seonghwa looked so ready to drop them the moment he saw fit. “W-What am I touching?” You asked carefully, pretending you couldn’t see some of them - different arrays of clothes, all feminine, and all just about your perfect sizing.

“Clothes, lots of them,” he said, dropping your hand. “They’re all yours, precious.”

You stared blankly ahead. For a second, you genuinely thought he’d lost his mind. He sighed, nudging one of the bags with his foot. “There’s the annual gala tonight,” he began. “There will be a lot of future investors, clients, all that jazz. Then, the next day we have a short conference and an after party, so we’ll be staying in the hotel like last time. I already booked your room.”

“Okay?” You drawled, not quite getting what he was trying to insinuate.

His brows arched. “Okay?” He repeated, the mocking repetition making you want to slam one of the bags to his handsome face. “You’re coming with me. I kind of need you to translate.”

“No, I got that part,” you said, trying not to roll your eyes. “What I’m trying to understand is the excessive amount of clothes for one night.”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t mad, rather, he looked more offended than anything which was puzzling to you. “Excessive, you say? I think I can determine that, myself.”

“I...understand,” you said slowly. “It’s still too much. There’s no less than fifteen bags, Mingi.”

“And?” He raised an annoyed brow like you were insulting him by just pointing that out.

You blinked, opening your mouth before closing it, and then trying again. “It’s one night.”

“And?”

That shut you up. That one was sharper, his tone getting more pointed and snappier. You could see his patience visibly thinning by how his eyes have darkened. “Mingi,” you sighed. “Nobody needs this much for one night.”

A humourless chuckle escaped him. Shaking his head, he leans by the nearby desk, crossing his arms. “You seem to be under the impression that everything in there is just for tonight,” he pointed out. “There’s a variety of stuff in there. Dresses, work clothes, shoes, et cetera.”

You swallowed, suddenly aware of the quiet between you two stretching thin. These weren’t just bags anymore, they were a deliberate purchase catered especially for you. That was the part that bothered you more than the quantity - that Mingi bought all of these just for you. It felt like chaotic indulgence, and underneath the uncertainty, was something inside your chest that started forming, something your traitorous heart was getting harder to ignore.

“I can’t accept these, then,” you said firmly, deciding to stand your ground. 

That was not an answer he was expecting. You could tell you said the wrong words when something flashed across his face, gone so quickly you almost missed it. “Can’t?” He asked calmly, a little too calm than you liked. “What do you mean?”

You pursed your lips, thinking of what to say without aggravating him. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t, precious,” Mingi cocked his head with a smile. It was thin, dangerously thin. “Please elaborate, Y/N. I must insist.”

You shifted uncomfortably, not willing to tell him the truth. You didn’t want to owe him, didn’t want anything tying you closer to him than you already were. You wanted distance and an escape route; a future where Song Mingi wasn’t going to be involved, and that included reminders of him even if it was the littlest of things.

Your silence was ticking him off. Mingi’s jaw flexed, it was barely noticeable, but enough to tell that you were beginning to irritate him. “I rest my case, then. I don’t see an issue with—”

“I do,” you interrupted. “This is ridiculous, Mingi—”

“Love.”

Now that actually shuts you up. The way he said it made it sound less like a nickname and more like a warning by the slight edge in his voice. But you weren’t going to budge even if the fear was slowly washing your resolve away. “I said what I said, Mingi. I can’t take them.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. His expression remained unreadable, but his stare had something darker flickering behind his eyes now. Immediately, the atmosphere shifts. You knew this feeling - the one where you’d accidentally stepped on a landmine and were waiting for it to explode.  

And maybe it did, because Mingi went from standing in front of you to his face inches away from yours. The couch dipped when he propped his knee, his entire upper body leaning over you, one hand bracing itself against the back of the couch beside your head, and you? You froze, trapped underneath him with nowhere to go.

You prayed he couldn’t hear how hard your stupid heart was thumping. He was close, far too close. His cologne immediately envelops you, and you hated it. Hated the fact that despite knowing exactly what kind of person Mingi was, your body automatically reacted to his presence. “U-Uhm,” you stammered like an idiot. “I don’t think—”

“You’re right, you don’t think,” he whispered, tone casual. “Because you seemed perfectly capable of accepting Seonghwa’s pastries earlier. You didn’t even have to think about it.”

That statement hit you so unexpectedly hard that you had to blink owlishly, mouth opening agape in disbelief. Maybe he wasn’t so casual about it, after all. For some reason, that statement carried a bit of a bite to it, a bitterness that felt entirely out of place for someone of Mingi’s personality as far as you’re concerned.

“B-But,” you stuttered, not really knowing what to say, before you cleared your throat. “That’s different,” you reasoned, gesturing to the bags. “That’s…different.”

“Is it?” Mingi asked, somehow looking more irritated even if his face was expressionless. Then, his other hand moved to your waist, his fingers deliberately settling themselves onto your skin through your clothes. “Tell me, then. I want to hear it.”

You gulped, body tensing in a way that you were positive he felt judging by the faint smile on his face. You hated the way your stomach tightened, hated how every nerve ending in your body suddenly became alive, hated even more how natural this all was to him as though he hadn’t just short-circuited your brain. It was getting difficult to breathe and you hated him for it. 

It felt like hours being underneath Mingi like this. The hand at your waist didn’t move, and if anything, it felt more and more present like a constant reminder of how easily he could invade your space if he really wanted to. “Look me in the eye,” he murmured, voice low and gruff.

You lifted your head, freezing at the last second. He almost got you there. You lifted your head, deliberately staring at something else like a blind person would. Mingi was still waiting, a small smirk on his face. “Wrong direction, doll. That’s my neck,” he chuckled in amusement. “Higher.”

A wave of humiliation ripples through you when you realised that you were, indeed, staring at his neck. But, you’d be damned if you looked him in the eye, so you settled on his lips. But that soon turned into panic when his hand started to travel up your waist. “No,” he murmured. “Higher.”

The moment he said that, his hand moved slightly higher as well. It makes your breath catch, your throat locking at how tense you felt. Your eyes flicker hesitantly, lifting up to his nose this time. “Higher, baby doll,” he repeated, voice going even deeper and rougher. “Higher.”

Something in him changed. It was subtle in the way his eyes cast a dark shadow over it, his breath getting shallower as his hand glided further up. A faint exhale escapes him, and you stop the squeak that almost left you when he bit his bottom lip lightly. Your eyes didn’t move, but his hand kept going higher and higher, right below your breasts.

Panic settled in and before you could think of your mistake and the consequences of it, you looked him straight in the eye like he asked, your eyes clearly holding fright as you stared at him. Mingi’s hand stops exactly on the curve of your tit, a couple of inches below your nipple. The both of you stared at each other for a long moment; a predator studying prey.

You weren’t in the mood to pretend, not right now. Mingi stared at the way your chest heaved up and down, the way your legs instinctively squeezed together. You shuddered at his touch, stifling any damning sounds, but it was when his hard started moving again that you snapped out of the daze.

“Mingi—”, you gasped, aggressively pushing his hand away. 

“What I give you is what you get,” he said, finally leaning away and putting distance between you. “And you’ll find yourself grateful for it.”

The statement hung in the air. It was neither a threat nor a promise, but somehow, that made it worse. At first, your mind reached for the most logical explanation, but maybe this was his way of controlling you in a way that made sense only to him. Your hands flexed at your sides without you noticing.

“You didn’t ask me,” you spoke.

“I didn’t think I had to,” he stated confidently, completely certain of himself. “Pick what to wear from the bags or I will. You don’t want that. The gala starts at seven.”

The gala was no less than glamorous. Everywhere you looked was filled with pretentiousness covered in glitz; polished smiles and conversations disguised as networking when in reality, it was just another ruse for some sort of power play. You hated every bit of it and you could not wait until you were back in your hotel room.

Unfortunately for you, this happened to be exactly the sort of environment where Mingi thrived in and you spent the majority of it being with him. The business itself wasn’t particularly exciting, still, you translated them all for him without complaining - all while resisting the urge to fall asleep in the middle of this bloody ballroom.

The irony wasn’t lost on you, though, because Mingi looked good tonight. Infuriatingly so. The black suit fit him perfectly, tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and long legs, blonde hair pushed back to expose his sharp features that gleamed under the chandelier lights.

The worst part was that he looked like he belonged here. People flocked to him naturally. Sure, his status might have helped, but such was the charisma of one Song Mingi, really.

But despite the growing crowd vying for even a sliver of his attention, Mingi always found a way to pull you back. “Stay here,” he murmured, almost a warning, when you tried to wander off. 

Because God knows you wanted to. You needed to get away from him. The memory of what happened in the office earlier refused to leave your mind, and now, every time he stepped too close, the way his hand brushed your lower back to guide you through the crowd, and every time he leaned in to whisper something, your body immediately remembered.

But none of these surprised you - what actually bothered you was what Mingi wasn’t doing.

Turns out that there are some things that Mingi couldn’t even stand no matter how hard he pretends. Or, perhaps, you were the only one who noticed. Being around the blind makes people reveal themselves especially when they think nobody was there to watch. But you’ve always been here, mainly because Mingi had a thing for keeping you in check.

He hated being here, that much you could tell. Despised it, even. To others, Mingi looked the same, but you knew better. The way his eyes narrowed every time someone tried to talk to him was one thing, but his smirk was hollow and carried no weight, and his responses were beginning to get shorter and shorter as the night went on. 

His patience was wearing thin and that realisation was so fascinating to you. You’ve seen Mingi annoyed, amused, exploit, kill, but one thing you’ve never seen him be was be uncomfortable. The thought immediately makes you snort under your breath, and of course, Mingi notices.

His eyes narrowed, staring at you for a few seconds before he let out a long sigh, fingers slightly loosening his tie. “Do you need anything?”

The question surprised you, but the way he asked it almost created a big riff inside your chest. He wasn’t asking out of inconvenience, he looked like he actually wanted to ask you if you needed something. The thing was, the concern sounded so unnatural for him that you had a hard time conceiving an answer for him.

But you didn’t have to. Mingi was still waiting for an answer when, suddenly, his eyes darkened. The change in his body posture was subtle, but it was there. His back straightened, shoulders squared, and his chin lifted. You were stunned, you’ve never seen him like this before - not for investors, not for clients, and not for people who held twice the amount of power he did.

Someone was approaching and when that newcomer came in your line of view, you immediately understood why. This man looked like he should’ve been in a magazine cover, beautiful in a way that was not even fair. But that wasn’t what made you freeze - it was his eyes. They were cold, but not cold in a way that Mingi’s were. They weren’t sharp or predatory, they were just…cold.

This man was danger wrapped in silk to hide the rot underneath. The way he stood was restrained, his presence already squeezing your chest with unyielding tension. You understood why Mingi immediately tensed the moment he saw him.

“Yeosang,” Mingi greeted with a subtle nod. “Always glad to see you alive despite your efforts.”

You brows furrowed, the name tickling your brain to remember where it had heard it before. Yeosang returns the gesture. “Charmed,” he flatly stated. “My father isn’t happy, Mingi.”

You wanted to choke where you stood. That was it - no smile, no pleasantries, no nothing. Just straight into business. Mingi lightly scoffs, swirling his whiskey once before answering. “I would say that’s unfortunate, but it sounds to me that that’s his problem, and not my own.”

Yeosang stared at him for quite some time before cocking his head slightly. “You tainted the null zone,” he stated, expression unchanged. “Don’t mistake silence for approval. Though I must say, you’ve gotten…creative. I see you’ve also started including variables in your equation.”

The people around you blurred, and you were left stuck between two men who were clearly fighting for the upper hand even though you had no idea what they were talking about. “I aim to please,” Mingi shrugged, though you could see how tense he was. “It’s called adapting.”

Yeosang’s mouth curls into a small sneer. “Adaptable people know where the line is.”

But Mingi wasn’t having it. His eyes narrow into small slits, returning the glare with equal ferocity. “They also know when the line has moved.”

There was a pause, both men refusing to give out as they both stared at each other, communicating between their eyes. The measured silence was louder than all of the mindless chatter and ear-splitting music echoing in the ballroom and the discomfort was slowly creeping into your insides.

“What now?” Yeosang finally said, the taunting clear in his tone.

Mingi took another sip from his glass before setting it onto a passing waiter’s tray without even looking. “What else?” He jabbed in contempt. “I’ll deal with it. Like I always fucking do.”

Something flickered in Yeosang’s eyes, gone within the next second. Of course, Mingi notices. “Don’t even start,” Mingi said lowly, voice hardening. “Everything’s been done accordingly and neatly all within the given timeframe. You and I both know I’ve gone the extra mile way out of my area of responsibility every time. I have never failed. I never will. Not now, not ever.”

Yeosang scoffed. Your stomach begins to churn. Neither of them raised their voices or their fists, but this conversation felt more dangerous than any lingering violence you’ve witnessed. That statement earns the smallest reaction from Mingi. He lifts a brow, an action you knew too well - an action you knew was going to cost the nearest person he set his sights on.

“Is it not? My record says otherwise, Yeosang,” he said, voice sharpening on its edges. “I’ve been cleaning messes since the beginning. Run the reports and my every movement, I don’t care. Nothing’s off, nothing’s missing. So,” Mingi takes one step closer, enough to show that he wasn’t backing down. “Unless your dad has gone senile, then there’s nothing he can reprimand me on. He can talk to me, himself.”

For the first time, Yeosang’s expression shifts. It was subtle, but you could tell it was between disappointment and a warning. His gaze swept imperceptibly through the crowd before settling back on Mingi. There was pause before he finally sighed, his shoulders loosening visibly, eyes taking on something more human in them. “Don’t get too cocky,” he whispered.

A small smirk crosses Mingi’s face as he lets out a small huff. “You and I both know I’m not just someone. And about the…variable,” he said, eyes briefly landing on you before locking eyes with Yeosang once more. “It’s accounted for. But that’s not why you’re here. You didn’t approach me to criticise my methods.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he sets his sights on you, quiet but clinical. “You’re Y/N,” he stated.

You blinked, not expecting to be acknowledged by this beautifully dreadful man. As you were about to open your mouth to respond, for the first time since Yeosang approached, Mingi looked genuinely irritated. His hands suddenly grips your arm. It was neither tight nor gentle, but it was enough where you knew he was making his presence and intentions known.

“She is,” he answered quickly before you even could. Mingi doesn’t look at you as he speaks, but the pressure of his fingers slightly increases, but more than that, you could feel a slight tremble to them. You would even dare go as far as say that his hold felt desperate.

Yeosang’s eyes drop to Mingi’s hand, a slow, knowing smirk ghosting across his lips. But then, his eyes bore straight onto yours and your heart leapt out of your chest, too startled to look away. You immediately dimmed your eyes, hoping he didn’t notice how alert they were, but he kept staring, even slightly tilting his head as his penetrating eyes inspected yours.

“Huh,” he huffed in amusement, his mouth twitching at its corners. He sounded genuinely interested. “I’m impressed. Such tenacity. No wonder you’ve survived for this long.”

Mingi’s jaw shifts, his hold on you tightening once more before relaxing. Yeosang notices, his smile growing wider. “Don’t,” he warned. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Yeosang merely nods, but he all managed but two steps before stopping. You held your breath in anticipation, but what you weren’t expecting was for him to look back, eyes the softest you’ve seen. It wasn’t much, but it was enough where you thought you imagined the other version of him.

He reaches out, hand resting on Mingi’s shoulder, and by how Mingi didn’t flinch, you could tell it was a welcome and familiar gesture; almost comforting and brotherly, even.

Yeosang’s eyes settle on you briefly before he looks away. “I won’t tell if you won’t, Min,” he said quietly. Mingi managed the subtlest nod. Then, Yeosang was already gone. Approaching said table was the only thing left to do at that point.

And it wasn’t a pleasant experience. These people weren’t even predators; they were vultures and bottom feeders, just hovering over the weakest link before they did what they did best. It was revolting, and unfortunately for you, Mingi’s temper wasn’t helping.

He spent the entire time digging his fingers in to make these people bled, hooking in to let the pain fester more. Safe to say that being in the middle of this political fiasco was not for you in the slightest.

“As an outsider, what are your views on intelligence?” Mingi asked lightheartedly, though anybody with common sense can tell that his eyes said otherwise. It was awkward to translate that to the few people who didn’t speak the language, but you had to do it.

“I like how you never let facts get in the way of your opinions,” he whispered under his breath while another investor was explaining his plans for his company. The secondhand embarrassment of seeing the other man’s smile slowly fade and fumble to collect what was left of his social dignity was something you never wanted to witness ever again.

It wasn’t long before they started targeting you. It was to be expected - you were the weakest out of everybody in this table, the cripple, so to speak. If they couldn’t get to Mingi, they were surely going to take their frustrations out on the easy prey to salvage what was left of their egos. At first, they were polite about it, then they became just loud enough for you to hear.

“That’s the translator? My, so the rumours were true, after all.”

“But she’s blind. KQ couldn’t find anyone else that can at least look you in the eye?”

“I wouldn’t trust someone who can’t even see the people she’s negotiating with.”

Your fingers curled around your untouched champagne flute to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Imbeciles, you thought. You weren’t really blind, but of course, they can’t know that. You were playing the long game here and their words were nothing compared to the unknown of what would happen if Mingi found out. You didn’t even want to know. For now, you stayed silent.

But Mingi had different ideas. You and all the other patrons on the table flinched when his low chuckle pierced through the hushed conversations. “You know,” he started, gaze settling on the people who had questioned your abilities. “The funny thing about natural intellect is that it often doesn’t require sight.”

The implication was clear. No one spoke and a few nearby guests from the other table coughed awkwardly into their drinks. You were stunned into silence, your chest tightening as you watched Mingi take a sip from his glass, his posture as relaxed as ever. You wanted to believe that he meant something else - that he was doing this for his own interest - but you’d be lying to yourself.

One of the men who insulted you forced an awkward smile that looked like it was meant to be smug. “Ah, we were just curious,” he smirked. “KQ prides itself on excellence. I simply meant that eyesight is important in business.”

“So is a brain,” Mingi raised a brow, voice calm.

The dig was so pointed and deliberate that the people around were stuck in between snickering or stuttering in surprise, but the man’s face just reddened in embarrassment, perhaps in anger. “Come again?” He huffed in annoyance.

Mingi smirked behind his glass, scoffing softly. “All I’m saying,” he spoke calmly. “Is that I’ve met people who could see perfectly fine yet choose to be sightless. I’ve also met some who lost their sight along the way. I’m not sure who’s worse.”

His eyes lingered on every single face on the table long enough to make every single of them visibly uncomfortable. His words sent a shiver down your spine, so you turned to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at anybody else anymore. He was looking at you - no - he was looking through you. “Your entire existence has been led by your blindness.”

He continued, voice lowered enough not to be unheard, but enough to paralyse you because this felt personal. “And since you can’t see,” he paused as your pulse stumbled. “And the more nothing happens, the more dreadful it feels.”

A strange silence envelops the entire table. Some people gave an awkward laugh, but you barely noticed them, your focus entirely on the man beside you. This felt different. Every conversation you’ve had with Mingi felt like you were being hunted, but now? It didn’t even feel like he was mocking you for your blindness - it felt like he understood it.

Not the lie, but the fear of it and the suffocating uncertainty of not knowing whether or not he would finally do something drastic the next time you saw him. Your heart beat painfully against your ribs, and you couldn’t understand why because you should have been afraid.

So why did it feel like that the only person who seemed to perfectly understand the prison you’ve entrapped yourself in was the very same man who had built it?

You already knew that Mingi was detested being there - loathed the people around him, really - and that was fine, but even psychopaths like Song Mingi had their limits. You just weren’t expecting Mingi to act upon that unease in the most unconventional of ways. You shouldn’t be surprised anymore, yet somehow, you still were.

The water in the tub had long since gone cold but you had barely noticed. The bathroom was too quiet, especially in contrast with all of tonight’s events - the glittering chandeliers, forced smiles, conversations with hidden meanings, Song Mingi - all of it. The lavender scented bath salts that should have been calming, but they didn’t even work. Instead, you still felt sick.

You closed your eyes, but that was a mistake. Immediately, fragments of the evening flashed in your head. You sank deeper in the water to will yourself to think about anything else, but your mind refused. The last thing you remembered was running to your room after seeing Mingi and Wooyoung together in the emergency stairwell, but how did you even get there?

“Go to your room and rest, doll,” Mingi had spoken the moment he took you out of that suffocating ballroom. “You need it. We still need to attend the after party tomorrow.”

You absentmindedly played with the bubbles floating about, swirling mindless, abstract patterns with your fingertips. You remembered glancing at Mingi, reading to say your good nights, but he wasn’t even looking at you. Instead, he was staring at the ballroom doors, eyes fixed on it as if he was waiting for something to happen. You shivered at the memory.

“W-What about you?” You asked. “Are you not resting yet?”

He shook his head, gaze already down the hallway opposite the ballroom. “No. I’m going to smoke for a bit,” he flatly spoke, almost distracted. He grabs something from his coat pocket. “This is the list of people I need you to memorise for tomorrow,” he said, handing you a flash drive. “Go on. Jongho’s in the lobby to help you to your room. I’ll swing by later to get it back.”

You turned your head to the side where the flash drive lay on the pristine marble sink, still untouched, not knowing what exactly to do with it - not when you knew Mingi lied to you. You knew for a fact he didn’t smoke. So when he turned his back to walk away, you hung out but not because you were waiting for Jongho; no, you were going to see what Mingi was up to.

You should’ve just listened, because the next thing you knew, you were hidden by the staircase door, your eyes wide, mouth agape in fear and disbelief, watching Mingi’s smirk turn into a smug grin while Wooyoung grabbed him by the collar, eyes narrowed dangerously into slits, veins popping from his neck all the way to his temples in sheer anger. 

“Mingi, you piece of shit,” he seethed, voice scathing as he slammed Mingi against the concrete wall. “It was you, wasn’t it? I know it was you. The fucking gala is in shambles because of you.”

At that time you didn’t know it was related. When you were tailing Mingi, there was a sudden commotion that erupted in the ballroom when you passed it, panicked voices and frantic demands for an emergency hotline. The realisation made you pale, because now you knew why he looked at that door like he was waiting - because he actually was.

“Careful with the suit, Youngie. I happen to like this one a lot,” he murmured, not even bothered in the slightest. “Mighty bold of you to assume I had something to do with it.”

The playful, teasing investor who ate cherries was nowhere to be found. His usually warm face had darkened with rage, fists tightening even further against Mingi’s expensive suit. “Cut the bullshit,” he spat. “I was literally at the other table listening in while you were mouthing off to that dead trash.What the fuck were you thinking?”

The victim flashed across your mind almost instantly and your blood ran cold, realisation settling into your bones with horrifying clarity. Mingi had killed again and the one who died was none other than the executive who he spent the entire time digging into. And as if things weren’t bad enough, you saw a shadow approaching from the other side of the hallway. 

It was Jongho. He was about to open his mouth, but you hurriedly put your finger to your mouth, your teary eyes begging him to be silent and not speak while pointing at the staircase. His eyes widened, but luckily, he did exactly what you wanted and opted to stand beside you to listen in as well, though you think it was more because he was stunned into silence seeing you so panicked.

The both of you watched Wooyoung groan into his hands in sheer frustration before glaring at Mingi, looking like he was ready to throw him down the stairs. “God, Song Mingi, you just gave me a migraine and half,” he hissed, two seconds away from punching him. “Was he on the list?”

Mingi’s lips stretched at the corners. It wasn’t enough to be called a smile, but enough to show his canines. You remembered thinking how symbolic it was. “Oh. No, he wasn’t,” he replied.

Wooyoung stared, blinking twice like he had heard wrong. “I’m sorry?”

Mingi shrugged, casually straightening his tie. “I had no plans tonight, I genuinely wanted to leave this hellhole fast, so I wasn’t even going to do anything to the guy. He just pissed me off.”

Wooyoung stared more before exploding. “What?” His voice boomed through the entire staircase, loud and roaring, making you and Jongho both flinch at the intensity. “Mingi, that was blatant, you petty motherfucker—”

“I don’t get petty,” he interrupted with insulting calm. “I get even, Wooyoung.”

The amusement he had the entire time completely vanished. It was so unsettling. When Mingi looked back at Wooyoung, there was that terrifying cold that you only saw when he was in his murderous state.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight,” he said, holding Wooyoung’s gaze without flinching. “I’d have caved your skull in with my shoe for cornering me like this.”

Jongho’s breath hitched. Mingi wasn’t joking and even Wooyoung seemed to recognise that. For the first time since confronting him, hesitation crossed his face, but Mingi wasn’t done.

“This place,” he gestures randomly with his hands. “Runs on order, chaos, and my patience. If there’s a problem, it isn’t what I did. It’s what everyone thinks they saw. And I suggest,” he pauses, head tilting, menacingly so. “You make sure they’re looking at the right thing.”

Wooyoung paused, face settling into a dangerous realisation. You watched him take a step back, face reddening bit by bit as a newfound rage seemed to overcome him. “Are you out of your fucking mind? You play god to stay on top of that mountain of shit you’re sitting on and you expect people to just forget and hope their attention diverts towards something else?”

Mingi smiled a bit, genuinely amused by the situation. “You misunderstand me,” he said, taking a step slow enough to feel deliberate. “You think I killed my way here? Because anybody can kill. You certainly have. You think the man who kills the most gets to stay on top, Jung Wooyoung?”

The question was almost conversational and it had you and Jongho both holding your breaths. Wooyoung said nothing as Mingi’s eyes stayed locked onto his. “Listen to them,” he gestured towards the direction of the ballroom. “Half the room thinks he had a heart attack, and the other half thinks otherwise. But it doesn’t matter, because by tomorrow, every single one of those stories will be more useful to me than the truth. It’s always the little ants that help me stay up.”

His face had emptied with nothing but those dead eyes that stared through people rather than at them, but it was the way his voice remained calm - that was the terrifying part. There was no ounce of guilt in them. Mingi continued, voice dropping lower. “You see, before I built my network, I don’t announce my intentions to the anthill. Before I pull the trigger, I don’t explain myself.”

“You want to know why?” Mingi asked. Wooyoung's body tensed when Mingi stepped closer, jaw tightening when the taller man’s fingers brushed against his tie to fix it. “Because they’re ants, Youngie,” he declared, gaze sharpening dangerously, fingers twisting the tie, causing Wooyoung to choke out before letting go. “And ants are far below my understanding.”

The way he said it was soft, but the words landed like a blade. Mingi sighed, eyes drifting briefly towards the ceiling. “But the world is round,” he mumbled thoughtfully with an almost child-like innocence. “I could be the ant to someone else next time. But not tonight,” his eyes hardened when they returned to Wooyoung. “Because right here, right now, they are the ants.”

You finally understood something that terrified you more than the murders themselves - Mingi thought he was above these people and genuinely cannot imagine anyone changing the story he had already decided for them. You had to get Jongho out of here before Mingi realises he had another witness.

“Jongho, please,” you begged, grabbing onto his jacket. “Take me to my room.”

Jongho didn’t hesitate or ask any questions. His hands were trembling the entire time, you could feel it, and you could only imagine what was going through his head; to know that the boss he had admired for so long was a cold and calculated murderer.

The walk back felt impossibly long, but the moment you entered your hotel room, Jongho took a deep breath to prepare himself for the barrage of questions that he had for you. “Y/N, what the hell was that? I need to know—”

“I’m not blind,” you blurted out before you could help it. “I-I lied. I can see perfectly.”

And somehow between this revelation and the conversation between Mingi and Wooyoung, this one seemed to surprise him the most. You told him everything - how you had lied from the very beginning because you had accidentally witnessed Mingi doing the same thing months prior. And, knowing how smart he was, Jongho asked why didn’t you just leave or, perhaps, not accept the job offer, so you also told him about the company card and how Mingi found you through it.

Jongho nodded as he took the information in, but you could see how his face had paled as he tried to keep his composure. “He would’ve found you regardless of where you were,” he mumbled, more to himself, in realisation. “Y/N, this is fucked. All of this is. Does anyone else know?”

You nodded, telling him San, your best friend, knew. By the time you were finished, your voice had gone hoarse, hands trembling uncontrollably. Your chest, however, did feel a little lighter. Letting all of this out felt good for once even if saying it out loud solidified the danger wrapped behind it.

But as you stared at the way Jongho just stood there, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him; your chest felt lighter simply because you now had someone to share the heaviness with.

In the end, Jongho thought it was best to keep acting normal until the dust settles. “If anything goes wrong,” he said sharply through veiled concern as he was about to leave your room. “And I mean anything, you come to me. I have a spare room in my apartment you both could crash in.”

You could have cried. Jongho took it better than you ever did and finally - God, finally - you felt like you weren’t alone. The cold embrace of the lavender scented water you were submerged in didn’t feel so biting anymore. You were so engrossed and lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the bathroom door opening, though.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but not once in your wildest dreams were you expecting to see Mingi standing by the door of the bathroom. In your peripheral vision, you can see his breath hitch, frozen from where he was standing, just as startled as you were.

You racked your brain for reasons why Mingi would be in your room to begin with, but you saw him staring at the flash drive on your sink and it hit you. You forgot that he was supposed to take it.

He looked shocked. It wasn’t the subtle surprise you’d coax out of him once in a while or that morbid curiosity he always had. No, this was pure, unadulterated shock; one you’ve never seen on his face before. This wasn’t one of his calculated performances - he genuinely did not expect to see you like this, and for the first time since you’d met him, he didn’t know what to do.

He wasn’t the only one, you were so caught-off guard that you couldn’t even move and this was when reality set in. You were in a bathtub and you were wearing nothing. You could hear the slow drip of the water from the faucet, the faint hum of the air conditioner just outside this suffocating, the ringing in your ears - everything. And God, that thought was so unsettling.

You became painfully aware of your vulnerability; of your bare shoulders and legs exposed to the cool air, of the thin sheet of bubbles that covered what little of your privacy, and every instinct told you to cover yourself and to scream at Mingi to get out. But you couldn’t. Blind people didn’t react to people silently appearing in their peripheral vision. Blind people never had the need to sink lower in cloudy bathwaters to protect their dignity from someone they didn’t know was there.

So, you remained still, keeping your gaze unfocused, praying that your breathing and your wild heartbeat wouldn’t betray you. With shaking hands, you reached for the shampoo bottle, missing it a few times on purpose for the sake of normalcy. In the dim, yellow lights of the luxurious bathroom, you just hoped that your reddened cheeks and ears weren’t so visible.

Mingi still didn’t move, and even if he did, you were expecting him to walk away as quietly as he crept in, but this was Mingi you were talking about and he was anything but. You had to stifle the alarmed yelp that wanted to escape your throat when he slid inside the bathroom completely. If you were really blind, you would have been none the wiser; he was good at being unheard.

Your hands were trembling as you continued to shampoo your hair, all while he leaned his back against the wall. Your stomach dropped, was he going to stay here? You could feel your hackles rise in the silence. This was absolutely absurd, because at this point, it was just impossible to not feel each other’s presence. Mingi was right earlier - people do love to pretend to be sightless.

As if things weren’t disturbing enough, his eyes had gotten dark somehow, and through your peripherals as you dragged the washcloth over your exposed legs, you saw his breathing grow heavier, his chest rising up and down with so much difficulty that it was becoming hard for you to breathe as well. Whatever he was thinking, you did not want to know.

But it seems like you’d have no choice. You froze when you saw his hand going lower, inching towards the outline of his obviously hardened cock. You swallowed, reaching out for the faucet to turn the water just so the tension wouldn’t slice you in two, but that mistake would cost you. Mingi took this opportunity to use the noise of the running water to unbuckle his belt to lower his pants.

The sight of his exposed cock, hard and already dripping in precum, caught you off guard, causing you to accidentally lose your balance as you tried to sit back down. The mishap completely shifts the hazy bathwater around, the bubbles sloshing around at the ripples, completely exposing you in your entirety. Just like that, the atmosphere turned sinister.

Song Mingi was jerking off at the sight of you bathing. You wanted to throw up, utterly disturbed at the turn of events. You were trapped; acknowledging him would mean seeing him, and hiding yourself would also mean seeing him.

Act normal, you told yourself. But to be fair, even if you weren’t pretending to be blind, how does one react normally to this?

A shaky exhale came from Mingi, the sound of it loud to your ears over the running water. He wastes no time wrapping his hands around his cock, stroking it slowly, eyes roaming greedily at your plump tits glistening with soap as you tried to rinse yourself. Subconsciously, you bit your lip, and it doesn’t escape your attention how his hand tightened around himself.

You shivered, not being able to stop the small whimper that left your lips. Fuck, you thought helplessly, your own body betraying you as the tingles went from your spine all the way down to your nether regions. It was stomach-churning and tears threatened to fall from your eyes because you were getting utterly, disgustingly, turned on by all of this.

No, this wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. But there you were, gripping the edge of the bathtub so hard your fingers ached as Mingi’s eyes rolled back in pleasure at the slow, deliberate strokes he was giving himself at the sight of your nakedness. You weren’t supposed to feel like this, you weren’t supposed to feel stuck between a cliff where jumping down would mean giving in.

You grabbed the washcloth again, dragging it across your belly before the cloth dipped lower, spreading your legs, but stopping midway. You didn’t even realise what you were doing, and God, you were about to be sick.

But, fuck, you needed something. You swallowed, you were just cleaning yourself. Every section needed to be scrubbed, right? Nothing out of the ordinary.

You bit your lip as you finally dragged the cloth lower as you washed between your legs, spreading your thighs a little wider under the water as your fingers brushed your clit, going back and forth to make sure you were thoroughly clean. You closed your eyes, focusing on the delicious onslaught you desperately needed down there rather than the bile rising up your throat.

Mingi’s breath hitched and his pace quickened. You could see his fist going faster, his movement more urgent. He was watching every move you made, the way your fingers clenched around nothing as you rubbed the cloth there again, pretending and telling yourself that it was just routine bathing. You really shouldn’t be doing this.

His breathing turned ragged, his hand moving in quick desperate strokes, low groans barely contained, but just when you thought he was about to come, Mingi stopped. He closed his eyes, taking in slow but big gulps of air as he tried to contain himself with great difficulty if the veins popping on his neck weren’t telling.

You were confused, and thought of being confused made the bile in your throat rise even higher. This was so messed up. But you kept your expression neutral, eyes unfocused as you continued to wash yourself. And just as sudden as he came barging in your bathroom, he hurriedly tucked himself back in his pants, grabbed the flash drive on your sink, and left quietly.

When you heard the front door clicking shut, your lungs finally remembered how to work. You hurriedly turned the faucet off, drained the tub, and quickly got dressed, all in the span of not even five minutes, to sit on the bed. Every muscle protested as you slowly relaxed and you didn’t even realise how rigid you were the entire time until you felt the softness of the bed.

Your shoulders slumped in relief. Mingi was gone, and of course, you were relieved. So why did the room suddenly feel so empty? Your throat tightened, replaying the scenes over and over again like cinema credits that went on forever. You hated every second that his eyes devoured you, didn’t you?

You shook your head at that wretched thought, waiting for the correct answer in the expanse of your dark, luxurious room, but it didn’t come. Instead, another realisation crawled into your mind like poison. You didn’t want him in the bathroom, you knew that, but your body…

You barely reached the toilet before you were retching over it in painful heaves, your lungs burning terribly as nothing came out. You felt sick, not because of the thought of Mingi, because of the way your body responded on its own in his presence. The thought disgusted you, made you want to peel your skin off and flush it down the toilet.

Tears fell down from your eyes before you could help it. You told yourself that you were always going to see through this and not let Mingi get to you.

Yet there you were, hands on your face, sobbing and wondering whether or not he already had.

Sleep never found you that night. Sanity had long left you. Sentience was something of the past for you. Sensation swallowed reasons whole. Someone said your name, but you barely stirred. Sex on the beach tasted pretty bland in this afterparty, swirling it didn’t make it better either. Smiles spread across the room, and sobriety stood no chance finding you tonight.

“Easy on the cocktails,” Jongho murmured beside you, or rather, shouted above the loud music in the background. “Mingi’s going to suspect something.”

“Let him,” you deadpanned, downing more cocktails than you could ever take.

Not tonight. You needed to get drunk to forget what happened last night. And speaking of that, the morning after was the most awkward moment of your entire existence yet. Mingi knocked on your door to remind you of the party, but he looked fine, pretty much the same asshole he usually was.

In essence, you were the only one messed up while he was pretending like nothing happened and the thought made you angrier than it usually would have.

Maybe trauma had finally broken something inside you, or perhaps, living under Mingi’s constant intimidation and fear rewired your instincts into something else. Whatever it was, you absolutely hated it. Whatever. You weren’t here to party like everyone did, and the moment you got back home, you had made up your mind to talk to San about Jongho’s offer for safety and shelter.

Tonight was easy, though. It’s like all these snobbish elitists who pretended that the gala actually contributed to society wanted to let loose like they had the right to when every hypocrite in there and their mothers knew that everything was just a farce. Mingi hadn’t called for you at all. Good, you thought. It wasn’t like you wanted to see him; not after last night.

In fact, he hadn’t even looked your way once. You were positive of that even in the paradigm of how these backwards parties worked, so why did your skin feel like it wants to separate itself from your body? The way it prickled made you want to dig your fingernails in and scratch that unbearable itch until you reached bones and nerves.

He was like a ghost that lingered but never really stayed; a spectre of your inevitable downfall. He was everywhere, but nowhere at the same time. At least, not that your eyes could see. You could feel his eyes on you, but you knew for a fact that he was networking with investors as of the moment. You could feel him, not physically, but instinctually. You downed your drink in one go. Your senses have definitely left your mind. You felt delirious - paranoid. You rubbed your forearm, willing for that itch to go away, but it didn’t help. Whatever this was felt possessive—no, obsessive. It wasn’t until you felt fingers tap your shoulder that you snapped out of the chasm you jumped into. 

You blinked. It was a man, dressed to the nines and out to impress, already tipsy judging by the slight sway in his stance, an unpleasant grin plastered to his face like he deserved the attention he wanted from anyone.

“There she is,” he grinned, the horrible smell of alcohol and his pungent cologne invading your nose. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while now.”

You forced a polite smile, your eyes dulling by itself not to pretend you were blind, but because you were genuinely not in the mood to act around pompous pricks when you already had so much in your head.

“My apologies,” you said, not even bothering to sound sorry at all.

His eyes traveled all over your form in ways you didn’t appreciate, his tongue poking out of lips, nodding in appreciation as if you were produce he wanted to purchase. Disgusting. “My, such pretty face for someone blind,” he clicked his tongue. “All wasted for Song Mingi.”

You immediately bristled at the insinuation. It was bad enough that you had to deal with the devil that was Mingi, himself, but you also had to deal with assholes like these who reduced you to what they thought you’re worth rather than what you’ve achieved. God, they made Mingi look like a saint because at least Mingi actually respected your job title and praised you for it all the time.

Jongho frowned. “With all due respect, Sir—”

The man cut him off with a dismissive wave. “I can make you see stars tonight, if you’d like,” he offered lasciviously, reaching out to you when he saw you stiffen. “You don’t need to be shy—”

An arm snakes around your waist, firm and certain, and you freeze before your body calms down. You didn’t even have to look, and the fact that you already knew who it was as you melted against him instinctively without thinking made you sick to your stomach. Mingi held you close, possessive without squeezing your waist, staking his claim without opening his mouth.

The other man’s smile falters and it was when Mingi spoke. “I see you’ve found yourself another friend, my little dove,” he said smoothly, dipping his head lower until you felt his breath against your ear. “Are you having fun?”

You shivered at the sensation, at his cordial and polite tone despite the way his eyes said otherwise as he fixated on the other man. He was completely devoid of warmth even though his skin left yours on fire. The other man took a cautious step back. You supposed that you weren’t the only one who could feel when Mingi was looking at them.

Mingi pulls you to the side, effectively seating you next to Jongho. “It seems our little friend here needs attention,” he mused, squeezing your waist possessively as if touching you was second nature to him.

He grabs your chin, turning you to him. “Be good for me, love,” he whispered. You gritted your teeth to stop that pleasurable zing up your spine. “Watch her,” he then told Jongho.

Jongho nodded dumbly, looking at you with wide eyes when Mingi turned back to the man, alarm clear on his expression that mirrored your own. The other man cleared his throat in an attempt to recover whatever dignity he lost, if he had one to begin with anyway.

“My apologies,” he began awkwardly. “I wasn’t aware that your employee was so…sensitive.”

What a piece of shit, you thought bitterly. He didn’t get what he wanted from you so he resorted to belittling you. “She seems to have misunderstood my intentions,” he continued, chuckling.

Mingi’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t think so,” he stated bluntly, not bothering to mince his words like he usually did. The man blinked, surprised at the turn of events, but Mingi’s gaze settled on him with that unnerving calm you knew too well. “Just because my translator cannot see you,” he paused, letting the words sink in. “Never meant she cannot hear you.”

You felt your gut tighten. While you appreciated his defense towards you, that didn’t really make your situation with Mingi better. He knew you were aware of everything he did, yet he chose to play games and test your sanity for months, so what did that say about him? The other man merely laughed, apparently - or choosing - to miss the point entirely.

“Well, perhaps I could make it up to her. Take her to dinner and maybe more, if you catch my drift,” he offered, that salacious grin still on his smug face. Jongho stiffens beside you, his usually kind eyes morphing into a glare so fierce that it could have rivaled Mingi’s.

Unfortunately, this man must’ve brought only half his brain because he didn’t stop there.

“Maybe I could shoot my shot with her,” he grinned, winking conspiratorily at Mingi as if this was an inside joke between them. “Plant my seed in her, you know what I mean?”

Mingi didn’t reply, yet the air around him changed so drastically, it was almost suffocating. His expression remained unreadable, but the quiet amusement in his eyes completely vanished. He nodded like he was agreeing. You swallowed. You learned enough about him to recognize that this was not a good sign. This was worse than him shouting. Much, much worse.

Then, in a whisper so soft that you were positive that you were the only one who heard it because nobody was meant to hear it, Mingi had barely let the words out of his mouth.

“What if I plant a bullet between your eyes, instead?”

Your blood froze, but the executive merely frowned. “Huh?”

“Hmm?” Mingi hummed in polite confusion, feigning innocence.

“Oh,” the man laughed nervously. “I thought you said something.”

A faint smile tugged at Mingi’s lips. “Must have been the wind,” he shrugged lazily.

But you couldn't take any of this anymore, so you excused yourself and said you were going to have fun on the other side of the venue with Jongho who immediately understands that you just wanted to get away. Mingi just raises a brow and cocks his head for you to go, but you hardly moved an inch before his hand wrapped around your wrist. He reeled you back without warning, your body colliding with his.

His other hand found the back of your neck, broad fingers spreading possessively beneath your hair. He held you there not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you that if he wanted to keep you exactly where you were, he could. His thumb stroked the nape of your neck in slow, deliberate passes.

“Stay where I can see you,” he said. There was no hint of any teasing in his voice, just firm and reminding. “I’d hate to have to come looking for you.”

Because I will.

Those were what his eyes were telling you as he let go, gesturing to the crowd to give you and Jongho permission to have fun. And you tried, you really did, but you couldn’t even move without your knees feeling strangely unsteady. Even at a distance, you still held your breath inside your lungs, unable to let it go no matter how much you tried.

Eventually, you had to tell Jongho that you needed to go to the restroom to get some space and hopefully refresh yourself, telling him ‘no’ when he offered to take you.

Snap out of it, Y/N, you told yourself in the subdued lighting of the ochre-themed restroom, splashing your face with a generous amount of cold tap water. Gripping the marbled sink with your trembling hands, you looked up at your reflection, watching droplets of water fall slowly from your exhausted face.

A shaky exhale leaves you. trying desperately to focus on anything except the lingering grip of Mingi’s fingers on the back of your neck. The bathroom ultimately felt too suffocating, plus staying wasn’t an option anyway - the last thing you needed was for Mingi to stay true to his threats. However, you barely made a step out when you felt yourself being slammed to the wall.

It was disorienting, and there was only one bastard who had the audacity to do that to you, but as you were about to give him a piece of your mind, another man’s voice spoke.

“You took forever in there,” he sneered, a dark undertone curling up his tone. “I thought I had to drag you out, myself.”

You froze, true fear crawling up your spine. You looked up, getting pale when you realised it was the same man from earlier who was hitting on you and now, he looked more drunk, more aggressive as he squeezed your arm painfully. “U-Uhm, you’re hurting me—” you tried to say.

“Mingi’s looking for you,” he interrupted, the pain shooting up further from your arm to your shoulder when he started dragging you towards the crowd without even waiting for you to say anything. “Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

You were having a difficult time keeping up with this man. The way he kept a tight grip on your arm felt different from the way Mingi had done. This one felt forceful and right, you would’ve traded anything for Mingi to be the one doing it instead because your arm genuinely hurt.

But as you stumbled, you quickly sensed that something was wrong when the music started to fade behind you, and by the time you realised that, the man had already pushed you outside.

Blood drained from your face. He had deliberately taken you out from the back where no one would come looking. “No,” you resisted, planting your feet as hard as you could on the concrete, flailing and trying to twist your arm free from his hands. “Let go of me—”

You cried out when you saw that he was trying to drag you to a lone car parked near. You clawed useless at his wrist to pry his fingers away, but this earned you a backhanded slap so hard, your head flew back.

“Shut the fuck up and get in the fucking car,” he hissed, hand shooting up, digging painfully into your jaw when you, one you couldn’t fight off because of the overwhelming nausea from him hitting you. “Or I’ll break your arm. I don’t mind fucking you with broken bones.”

Just as he was about to shove you inside his car, the back exit door slammed open so hard, it bounced off the walls in a loud echo. You slumped on the side of the car when the man’s grip loosened, wanting to just close your eyes and give in to the disorientation, but your eyes settled on the familiar figure up ahead - black suit, broad shoulders, blonde hair.

And when your eyes eventually cleared up to see who it was, you couldn’t stop the tears that fell. You’ve seen Mingi with all sorts of emotions, but not panic so raw, real, and unfiltered. His gaze swept all over you - your trembling hands, the bruise on your arms, your buckling legs.

Then, he settled on your face and the relief that washed over him was so immediate that it sent more tears down your eyes. He really was coming to get you no matter what, just like he had said.

The sight of your tears snapped Mingi out of the emotion he momentarily slipped into, burying it beneath something more infinitely dangerous.

But you couldn’t take it anymore, closing your eyes to let the darkness overcome you because you knew that whatever happened next, Mingi wasn’t going to let this man take you away.

Touch was the first thing you felt when you came to. Gentle fingers carefully gathered your hair, tucking the loose strands behind your ears. Mingi’s eyes were the first thing you saw the moment you opened your eyes, their usual sharpness dulled ever so slightly, his features softer somehow. You didn’t even move when his thumb brushed your swollen cheek.

Neither of you said anything, afraid of crashing this solemnity you rarely found with each other. This couldn’t be the same man - Mingi was highly intelligent and sarcastic, cunning in his ways and malicious in his murders. He likes winning conversations, gets irritated when challenged yet rarely explodes, and loves making people walk themselves into traps.

But most importantly, you knew he found you entertaining in every calculated torment he put you through. Yet here he was. His touch was careful enough that it almost frightened you.

Finally, he sighed softly, leaning away. “You’ll be alright,” was all he said. “Stay here. I’ll be right back to drive you home. I won’t be long, so I’d appreciate it if you stayed put.”

You didn’t even realise that you were currently in his car until he got out, closing the door softly so as to not startle you. You were going to pretend that didn’t happen. “W-Where are you going?” You blurted out, suddenly afraid to be alone. “Wait, the man from earlier—”

“Lock the door,” he cut off with maddening calm, staring at you for a second too long before he walked away, not bothering to look back. Having no choice, you did as he said. Another wave of exhaustion runs through you and before you knew it, you were once again dozing off.

Something must have startled you awake, though, with how you jerked slightly in your seat and judging by the embarrassing amount of drool pooled on your shirt, you must’ve napped for a while. And yet, there was still no sign of Mingi back in the car with you.

You frowned, looking at the direction where he’d walked away, your brows rising when you realised he walked into a dark, unmarked building. Immediately, something in your gut told you that something was wrong.

And like every bad decision you’ve made so far, you found yourself walking in, your footsteps impossibly loud despite how careful you walked. You were about to turn around when nothing came around when you heard voices ahead.

Gingerly, you pushed through nervously until you found yourself situated in a blind spot above a stairwell that overlooked an empty storage area.

Well, mostly empty except for two chairs where two men were bound and restrained. One of them had a gag on, wet with tears and wasted saliva, and the other one was pleading from his life while Mingi bunched his hair up in his fist. The blood drained from your face, not from what you were seeing - you were used to catching Mingi in the act. An unfortunate topic for another day - but because one of them looked very, very familiar to you.

The man who Mingi was facing was the very same man who had tried to take you earlier, his expensive suit tattered, one of his eyes already forming a nasty bruise.

“You said you’d let us go,” his panicked voice cracked. “I-I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

Mingi tilted his head. It was terrifying, really, how he regarded them with the same detachment he’d wear while reviewing quarterly reports. “Why do you sound like that? Did you miss puberty?” He asked nonchalantly. “I’m struggling not to put a bullet in your brain, so tread very carefully.”

Silence. Even you were holding your breath. “I can handle people trying to find me and try to kill me once in a while,” he continued, almost conversational. “People like you will keep going to either find nothing at all or even get to me if your stars are aligned properly.”

The man hissed in pain when Mingi seized him by the jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze. “But you did honestly think that I’d be caught unawares?” He hissed, anger bleeding into his voice, a rare one that you’ve never heard.

“Now, riddle me this,” he said, drawing a pained gasp from the man when his grip tightened. “Would you have been luckier to find nothing…or to find me?”

A broken whimper escapes the man when Mingi lets go. Above them, your fingers curled so tightly around the railing that they ached. Every instinct screamed at you to leave, but your body refused to listen. “I won’t do it again, I was just paid to do this, I swear, I’ll leave you alone. Hell, I’ll even leave town—”

“Oh, that’s not what you’re here for,“ Mingi rolled his eyes. “See, I’m a wise man. I don’t waste time with people like you. I pay people for that. You crossed a line that wasn’t yours to touch, let alone force. I did not like that. I did not appreciate it.”

The captive's face had gone ghostly pale. His shoulders shook against the restraints, and he strained forward as if getting physically closer might somehow make Mingi believe him. “Look, I’m sorry. Sometimes, you can’t help but follow the scent of sweet fruit and resist not taking a bite,” he laughed nervously. “You understand that, don’t you?”

Mingi’s composure fractures a bit. He turned away slightly, dragging a hand slowly down the lower half of his face as though physically restraining himself from acting on the rage threatening to spill over. The man gestures towards the other captive. “He could tell you who paid us—”

“I don’t care who paid you,” Mingi snapped, words clipped by an anger he was making no effort to hide anymore. His eyes had gone frighteningly cold, but beneath them burned something raw and visceral. You had to bite down your horror when Mingi produced a knife out of nowhere and stabbed the man’s hand, pinning it on the armrest. “Those details don't matter much to me.”

The man’s bone-chilling howl drowned out your panicked, laboured breaths. You had almost forgotten how truly sadistic Mingi was; how little he cared for human life. “I didn’t mean,” the man choked out desperately as if his blood would stop flowing. “I-I swear, I didn’t know—”

“You knew enough,” was all Mingi said, quietly wiping his hand with a cloth before haphazardly tossing it away. Mingi regarded for a long moment before walking to the other man, still gagged but now with more tears and terror in his eyes.

“And you,” he scoffed, crouching until they were eye level. “I’ve been meaning to get to you for a while. You’ve made my boss into a fool chasing a pest like you. Imagine my luck when I found out you and this bastard here were connected.”

Mingi chuckled, slinging an arm around the gagged man while he stared at the other. “I’ll give you two options. See, my boss needs proof that I did my job. You understand that, don’t you?” He smirked, echoing the other man’s words from earlier.

“It’s simple. I need fingers and a tongue,” he pointed to the bloody knife. “You decide if you want your fingers to go or his,” he clapped the gagged man’s back. “Or vice versa. I’ll let you live. If not, then I suppose I must kill you.”

His shoulders caved inward as pleas poured from him in broken sobs, begging until his voice cracked into something almost unrecognizable. And Mingi listened, or rather, allowed the noise to happen.

Finally, the man caved and with shaking fingers, he reached for the knife before a strangled cry ripped from his throat as he pulled the blade free. You recoiled instantly, one hand flying to your mouth, stomach lurching so violently you thought you were about to throw up.

You watched Mingi smile. “Go on,” he murmured almost encouragingly, as though coaching someone, not caring that the man shook in pain. “You’re doing great. Don’t lose your nerve now. If you do it fast enough the pain will be over before you even knew it started. ” 

You couldn't breathe. You couldn't think. You wanted to run. You wanted to scream. The captive drew one ragged breath, lifted the knife with an unsteady hand and just as he was about to land a hit, the heavy door on the opposite side of the room swung open. The man's hand froze midair and even Mingi turned. Your heart stopped. Someone else was here.

Seonghwa’s steps faltered, his eyes sweeping across the room like he walked into a scene he never expected. For one fleeting second, relief crashed over you so hard, your knees almost gave out. Seonghwa, who was gentle with his smiles, always remembered your pastries, and always cared for you, could stop Mingi. Unfortunately, the hostage took this distraction to move.

“Don’t move,” he threatened, fear thick in his voice despite the way he grabbed his other companion to wrap his arm around him, knife dangerously close to his neck. “I swear to God I’ll slice his neck. You won’t find out who paid us to kill you, Mingi, if you touch me.”

You needed to warn Seonghwa. You didn’t need Mingi targeting him next for being here. But before you could think further, a gunshot rang out. You jolted at the sound, and for one second, you couldn’t understand what was happening, that is, until you looked closely.

The captive remained standing, eyes wide and knife still raised, the gagged man he’d been using as a shield collapsed at his feet. He was dead, a bullet tearing clear through his heart.

Seonghwa stood with one arm extended, a pistol resting comfortably in his hand, smoke still drifting from the barrel. “Not much of an upper hand now, are you?”

He tilted his head rhetorically as if mildly inconvenienced. It all happened in a split second - the man barely had time to open his mouth before Seonghwa shot again, clean between the eyes, sharp and precise.

He let out a sigh, not even bothering to look at the corpses, before shooting a glance at Mingi. “I distinctly remember telling you not to play with your food,” he clicked his tongue, casually putting the gun down a nearby table. “Did Yeosang actually ask for proof? Which one was on the list?”

Mingi snorted, pointing at the man who was shot first. “No, not really,” he admitted, amused at the questions. “I’m a man of my word, though. I meant it when I said they’d live. Why?”

Seonghwa didn’t reply. Instead, he stood to retrieve the knife, turning it over between his fingers. “I’m bored,” he shrugged, voice pleasant. Though his eyes showed otherwise, a glint so sinister the knife couldn’t compete.

You had to shut your eyes when Seonghwa grabbed one of the corpses’ hands and went to work, putting your hands over your ears to drown out his cheerful whistling and the unpleasant sound of squelching blood and metal crushing bones.

This wasn’t Seonghwa - the man hacking away body parts methodically like he did this everyday was not your friend. The illusion shattered so violently that it hurt you more than Mingi had ever done because at least Mingi never pretended; he had shown you exactly who he was from the beginning.The tears came before you realised it, the grief far worse than fear. It was absurd to mourn someone who was still here, but perhaps, the friend you knew never existed to begin with.

Mingi watched him for another second before speaking. “No remorse for the guy?”

Seonghwa didn’t even bother looking up. “I wouldn’t pee on him even if he were on fire.”

Mingi raised his brows, more in fascination rather than blatant surprise, an amused whistle escaping through his teeth. “You’re evil,” he grinned, shaking his head.

Seonghwa let out a laugh, a real one that made his eyes crinkle. “That may be so, but I’m not as cruel as you,” he retorted lightheartedly, lifting a finger to signal men to drag the corpses away before continuing. “The translator shtick was creative, I’ll give you that, but not slipping once in your mother tongue after months of working together?”

He chuckled, shaking his head in vague admiration. “Incredible discipline. Shouldn’t have expected less from the Song Mingi, himself,” he tilted his head thoughtfully, something knowing glinting in his eyes. “It’s either discipline…or obsession.”

Your blood froze. No, you desperately thought. Your heart already knew what Seonghwa meant, but your mind refused to accept it, and it still hit when Mingi spoke. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugged innocently, replying in flawless Japanese. “I did need a translator. My Mandarin is pretty shitty, if I may say so myself.”

Seonghwa scoffed, rolling his eyes, fully offended at what he had just heard. “Don’t bullshit me, Mingi,” he replied in perfect, natural Mandarin. “You may not be fluent, but you’re decent enough. God, it’s been years and the way your mind functions still baffles me sometimes.”

Something inside you cracked open. Mingi never needed you. Everything crashed into you with suffocating force. He watched your panic over carefully chosen words all because he wanted to. He stared at Seonghwa for the longest moment before letting out a laugh, shooting his hands up in faux innocence as if he was caught stealing from a cookie jar. “You got me,” he mocked. “You said it yourself. My food, my rules. I get to play with it whenever I damn well please.”

Seonghwa’s amusement vanished. It was gradual, just enough for something infinitely more dangerous to settle on his face. “Careful, Mingi,” he started, inhumanly flat. “That food you’re referring to is Y/N,” he paused. He spoke your name with so much gentleness. “And I happen to like her very, very much. You’re not the only one with eyes, Mingi, so I’d watch your back if I were you. I’ve seen you play with her for way too long and I won’t stand by it anymore.”

The ease drained from Mingi’s posture first, the lazy tilt of his head disappearing, his eyes shifting into something far more terrifying than you’ve seen it. For the first time since you’d met him, Mingi looked genuinely angry. “Park Seonghwa,” he began, taking a measured step forward. “There are some things I tolerate, and some things that I won’t. You can borrow my car and you can raid my liquor cabinet. You can even take tens and thousands from my bank account.”

He paused to take more steps. “And I wouldn’t care,” he continued. They stood so close that their faces were mere inches away. “You can take anything you want, but you better not steal from me,” he seethed quietly. “Do not stand before me and tell me you’re entertaining thoughts you have no intentions of surviving. Because I won’t let you. Don’t take my goodwill for granted.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, pushing Mingi away. “Don’t piss me off. You already burned through every ounce of my goodwill when you shot Yamada in my fucking office on my favourite couch?” Seonghwa snapped, voice rising higher, unable to reel in his annoyance. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was to keep the Kangs happy after that stunt, you disastrous son of a bitch?”

“Anyway,” Seonghwa sighed before his voice softened, and for a second, you couldn’t help but still see that friend you’ve come to like, especially knowing that he felt a little differently for you. But only for a second. “She’s been through enough tonight. Leave her alone. She looked so peaceful sleeping in your car when I passed by it earlier.”

Mingi shook his head, almost fondly. “No, she’s not.”

Your lungs seized inside your ribs. You subconsciously took a step back, hoping that he was speaking in tongues and doesn’t actually believe you were gone. Seonghwa frowned, his eyes following Mingi as he began to walk towards the exit. “You don’t know her like I do, Hwa,” he chuckled, reaching for the door. “By now, she’s probably long gone. You’ll be lucky if you even see a lick of her shadow at work this week because she’ll never step foot in KQ ever again.”

Something about the way he said it made your body scream. “But she’ll keep thinking about me. Fear has a funny way of making you remember someone. So yeah, she’ll run,” he said, smile  deepening, eyes glimmering into something more pleased and exciting. “And I’ll let her.”

The terror had seeped so deeply into your bones by now that your body hollowed itself out. The entire time you’ve been trying to navigate around Mingi, you had been dancing exactly the way he wanted you to. You thought you were running - Mingi knew how you’d react as if you running was something he already accounted for. Your choices were never yours to begin with.

“Whatever, you sick bastard,” Seonghwa’s dry dismissal cut through the silence. “Go play cat and mouse somewhere and get the hell out of my company. I’ll admit, you did a great job, but you bossing me around was getting on my nerves. Plus, I can’t take Hongjoong’s complaints anymore. You’ve been running my assistant to the ground, you opportunist,” he sighed. “Yeosang will put out a statement to avoid conflict or I’ll ask Wooyoung to take over the list for you.” 

His company? And what list? This wasn’t the first time you’ve heard of it. The words landed harder than the gunshots had and it suddenly explained every conversation where Seonghwa would pop up out of nowhere. It explained why Hongjoong acted the way he did, why Mingi himself never really challenged Seonghwa, and why Yunho bowed a little lower. It had always been Seonghwa who was holding the leash - Mingi was just the convenient front, but for what? 

Mingi shrugged, the statement not even bothering him, twisting the door handle to leave the premises. But before he could take a step, Seonghwa’s voice stopped him. “Mingi?” He spoke quietly, eyes softening significantly. “Don’t hurt her. Please.”

Mingi looked over his shoulder, pausing for just a fraction before he smirked. “We’ll see.”

Jongho made true to his promise. You haphazardly packed the bare minimum before San did the same at his place, all in the same night. Jongho’s apartment was modest and his generosity earned him a thousand thanks along with the tightest hug from you. “So, what now?” San asked that night after everything had settled, holding your hand tight in his. “What’s going to happen?”

Truthfully, you haven’t gotten that far yet, and admittedly, none of you thought this through. However, you did know one thing. “I’m going to the police,” you finally said. And you meant it this time. Out of all the crimes you’ve unwillingly witnessed, there was something about this last one that genuinely scared you. It wasn’t a burden you were willing to carry alone anymore.

Jongho and San looked at you, both concerned and uncertain. "They might not believe me," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I have to try. I-I can’t do this alone anymore. I just,” you paused, throat tight. “I need a record. That someone at some point reported it…”

They understood what you meant. If something ever happened to you, at least someone would hopefully connect the dots. For now, all of you agreed it was best to lay low for a while until the dust settles. But once it does, you really were going to go to the police station. It didn’t matter anymore because you were done protecting monsters; done going insane to remain sane.

It had been almost five months since then of you just sitting duck. Jongho decided that him working at KQ would cause the least suspicion and San absolutely forbid you from going out. You weren’t going to complain. You’ve found a routine designed to numb your brain and for the most part, you operated with the intent of forgetting, just walking around in a daze.

The image of Mingi just wouldn’t go away. You’d often wake up in a cold sweat after dreaming about him, having spent the last few weeks pushing him out of your mind with no success. You didn’t bet on lasting this long hidden away, however, there was a small part of you that ached at the thought that, maybe, he wouldn’t even bother with you anymore. It was confusing and revolting at the same time; the maximum reason why you couldn’t sit still in Jongho’s apartment. 

There was only so much of this that you could take. Needless to say, San wasn’t pleased when you told him that you’ve made up your mind and was finally going to make a move. “Y/N, I don’t know, I have a terrible feeling about this,” he spoke nervously over the phone. “Can’t you at least wait until the end of the week to decide?”

“I can’t, Sannie,” you murmured, turning the doorknob to enter your apartment. “I can’t live with uncertainty anymore. I already spoke with a detective earlier before I left. I just need to grab a couple of things from my place and then we can all go to the police station tomorrow.”

The moment you hung up the phone and entered your apartment, you wanted to crash. Oh, how you missed your place and the normalcy it provided. It wouldn’t hurt to stay for a little while you planned your next move, but first, you were going to change your clothes. You’ve been wearing the same ones for months and you felt bad for borrowing Jongho’s a lot. You headed up to your bedroom, not bothering to close the door, and started to take your shirt off.

But you froze when you heard the door close behind you. Slowly - painfully slowly - you turned around. Mingi stood leaning against the door, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. He looked…different. Gone was the suit, replaced by a leather jacket that looked lethal on him. And his hair was black now, messy and unstyled. Somehow, the darker hair made him look younger.

It also made him look even more dangerous. Or was it that unfathomable look in his eyes as he watched you that bordered between predatory and repressed anger? You had no idea; all you knew was that the sight of him made something inside you stir treacherously, but that didn’t last long because the fear had caught on. You’d escaped, you were finally safe, so how was he here?

“Mingi,” you whispered, the fear in your voice unmistakable, eyes darting around in search for the nearest weapon you could use to protect yourself, but finding nothing. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t reply, eyes still fixed on you. His eyes always unsettled you, but this one felt different. There wasn’t that sadistic amusement you’ve gotten used to nor that smug satisfaction that was always lingered. His stare was just pure ice with absolutely nothing in them. “Because I was looking for you,” he said, pushing himself away from the door.

You frowned, clearly not satisfied with this answer. He noticed and cocked his head in question. “Why? Were you expecting more?” Mingi asked, stepping closer to you. “Did you want me to tell you how irritated I was that you hid from me for so long?”

You maintained eye contact, raising your chin in defiance, trying not to falter when he stopped in front of you so close that his chest was brushing against your breasts. “You knew where I was,” you said, gritting your teeth when the tiniest quirk of his lips confirmed it. “There’s nothing for you here, Mingi, please just leave. I’m happy being with Jongho—”

“Enough,” his voice cut through like a blade. He quickly darted his hand out to your cheeks, gripping them painfully. “I must say, though, this is very nice,” he began with a dark chuckle, turning your face once as if he was inspecting a product. “Seeing you actually seeing me, if you get what I mean. I have to get used to it, but I am enjoying it so far. I mean it.”

Your blood turned to ice when the meaning struck instantly. All those months of looking through him and forcing your eyes out of focus. And now, your eyes were fully locked onto his. "So that's what your eyes look like when you’re not pretending to be blind," he whispered almost tenderly. "It’s so honest. It also means I can finally watch them tell me exactly how afraid you are."

The way he said it was far more unsettling than his presence. His voice had no teasing tilt anymore, none of that false gentleness that unnerved you and each word sounded flat. “So you've always known,” you couldn’t help but say as realisation hits you at the same time - that the polished, professional man in front of you had been hiding behind plausible deniability. And now that the jig was up, there was no reason for Mingi to maintain that mask. “Since when?”

“Right from when I saw you watch me shoot that man on the trail,” Mingi snorted derisively. Your breath hitched. Hearing him say it out loud like this right in front of your face brought in a new type of terror. “Wouldn’t be good with what I did if I couldn't tell, would I? It was funny,” he chuckled. “And so dumb at the same time that I couldn’t even be mad even if I wanted to.”

You glared at his blatant disregard of why you even had to resort to such methods in the first place, raising your hands to pry his fingers away, but that only resorted to him narrowing his eyes in warning, gripping your cheek harder. “Why did you let me go if it was so dumb, then?” You bit back. “You could have killed me on the spot and no one would’ve known except the trees.” “I wanted to fuck with you, was that so wrong? You can’t play games and not expect someone to not want to play with you. Or did you just not want me as your playmate?” He replied nonchalantly. “I’m not that bad. That’s why I made Seonghwa hire Choi Jongho. I saw he was being nice to you and I figured you needed someone who wasn’t part of this fiasco so you wouldn’t lose your mind. I don’t particularly enjoy playing with my food when they’re bland.”

Hot, searing rage courses through you, bone-deep in its intensity. He played you like a damn instrument and your melody invigorated him. You slapped his hand away from your cheek with adrenaline-fueled anger, even going as far as slapping his cheek once his hand let go. You hit him and you made sure it hurt. “You son of a bitch,” you seethed. “I saw everything, including Yamada and the warehouse with Seonghwa. I’m going to tell on you, Mingi, I swear I will. ”

You didn’t care anymore. Mingi let out a small laugh of disbelief, grazing his now bleeding lip with his tongue. “I knew you saw everything. Your reactions were never really subtle,” he said, speaking so casually that it made your stomach churn. “And that’s fine. You can go to the police. I’ll even drive you there. I reckon they’ll actually believe you. The only question is…”

You whimpered when he grabbed your arm and bent it behind your back painfully before slamming you up against the nearest wall. The room suddenly felt small, Mingi was too close; too warm for comfort. “...if they would do something about it,” he continued, getting closer, his breath tickling your ear, voice lowering just enough for your senses to cloud. “Think about it, Y/N.”

You swallowed, the sickening understanding finally dawning on you; he was right, the police would believe you. They just wouldn’t move because they were KQ’s lapdogs. You gasped when Mingi nibbled on your ear. “Yahtzee. That’s my girl,” he whispered, voice rough. “See? You can be smart if you want to be. A smarter choice would be to listen to everything I say from now on.”

You didn’t understand what he meant until you felt his hips grind against your behind, the feeling of his hardness palpable especially in this position. “Go to hell, Song Mingi,” you growled, not hesitating to tilt your head, the back of your skull catching him square on the face. “You can fucking shove it. You think this is a game to me? You murdered people. You terrorised me every single day, almost got me hit by a car, and almost burned me, you psychopathic pervert.”

Mingi grunted, grip on you relaxing as he clutched his face in pain. You took that opportunity to break free, kicking him again just to make sure he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon. It worked, even setting him a few steps back. “You’re retaliating,” he pointed out flatly. The only sign that he was getting angrier was the cruel glint in his eyes as he watched you and the violent rise and fall of his chest. “That’s fine. I love the initiative. I just love punishing it more.”

You screamed both in pain and surprise when he lunged, grabbing you by the hair to force you to look at him. “Here’s what’s going to happen, sweet pea,” he whispered, nothing short of sinister, sliding his other hand to your throat and starting to squeeze. “I’m going to have you. Do you know what that means?” He paused to chuckle grimly. “I’m going to fuck you. Hard.”

Your eyes go wide and you start to wriggle out of his hold, but Mingi’s hand just tightens. Tears collect in your eyes in fear, but there was something else too, something you refused to admit. That realization made your stomach turn because you were supposed to hate this, yet you were here. You had gotten so used to Mingi chasing you that it started to feel wrong if you weren’t on edge. You had started to associate Mingi with adrenaline and needed him for excitement.

But still, this was wrong. You weren’t going down for this. Not for him and not for whatever twisted hold he had managed to build around you. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long, long time. I knew from the moment I saw you on that trail that you were something special, but I had to wait. Now,” his husky voice purred with a hint of barely concealed warning. “You’re going to give it to me. I don’t enjoy hurting you, but I will if you don’t listen.”

You were absolutely not going to accept whatever he planned for you without a fight. With all the strength you could muster, you punched him square in the jaw. His eyes widened for a fraction as he groaned in pain and you pushed him away, chest heaving violently. You didn’t hesitate to hit him again, but he managed to grab your arm before you could, lifting his own hand to backhand your cheek, causing you to stagger at the sheer force of it, your face already pulsing in pain.

“Not bad, love,” he laughed, massaging the jaw you hit. “I would like to not do that again, so how about this? You apologise to me and say you’ll be a good girl and you won’t do it again. Make it sound good and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you and go easy on you.” 

You spit on his face after that statement. Mingi closed his eyes to contain himself, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he wiped your spit off with the same hand he used to backhand you. When he opened his eyes again, you knew you were done for. His body was fully locked in, jaw locked stiff, rage simmering behind his eyes beneath deceitful calm - the type of calm that meant he’d already decided to hurt you. He just didn’t know where to start.

You made a run for the door, but unfortunately, Mingi was faster. He slammed the door shut before you could even get near. “I let you run off for too long now,” he hissed, yanking you away from the door. “You’re mine, Y/N. I’m going to have fun making this lesson memorable for you.”

You refused to stay still, kicking and scratching at him with all your might. “I don’t belong to you, Mingi,” you seethed. “You don’t own me, and you can’t just force me into it!”

He stared at you, eyes hollow and vacant in the most terrifying way, every trace of mercy deliberately carved out and discarded. “Your life was over the second I laid my eyes on you. And let me tell you something, I rarely want because I already know the outcome. But let me ask you this,” he said softly, holding your face deceptively gentle. “Who are you trying to convince?”

He barely let a second pass before he tightly held your head, keeping you still as he crashed his lips against yours. There was no tenderness in his actions; just viciousness and brutality. You whimpered in resistance, biting his lower lip until you tasted blood. He groaned at the pain, pushing you away to slam your head by the door. That caught you off guard, but if he was going to hurt you, then you’d repay him in kind.

That head slam did stun you for a moment. You couldn’t stop him when he threw you on the bed, immediately straddling your legs, holding your arms above your head. His eyes clouded, pupils blown over from pure desire, cursing under his breath. You gasped when he ripped your shirt clean off you with one hand, yanking your bra aside to squeeze your tit harshly. “Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth. “Fuck, you look so good like this beneath me.”

You hissed in pain and started to struggle even though desire ran rampant through your veins, hot and searing, but Mingi wasn’t budging. He bent down, closing his mouth around your nipple, his tongue tracing around your sensitive bud. You groaned in response, arching against him as you were torn between your body trying to decide whether it wanted him gone or worse, inside you. When he pulled back just an inch, his smirk was knowing, pure of nothing but sin.

“Don’t do this, Mingi, please,” you all but begged, squirming weakly against the restraints of his hands, but for naught. He responded with a quiet huff. He slid his jacket off, revealing broad shoulders clad in a tight, black tank top that left nothing to your imagination. You jerked your head away when he tried to kiss your jaw, but you just felt him smile against your skin.

“Ah, ah. No begging yet, sweetheart. Not unless I tell you to,” he murmured, licking all over your neck all the way down to your shoulders and started to suck and bite. Mingi was indulging himself, ravishing you and relishing in your pain. You hissed, slightly relieved that your body wasn’t betraying you. That is, until you felt his hand starting to travel down.

“M-Mingi,” you whimpered when he immediately put a finger in you, not even waiting until you were ready, eyes glinting at the sound. He was gentle with his strokes, hitting you in spots you didn’t even know were possible. It elicited humiliating cries from you and you just wanted to die then and there. "You’re making a b-big mistake,” you panted helplessly against his ministrations. “I-If I don't show up, people are going to look for me. You're a damn fool."

Mingi’s eyes narrowed. You gasped loudly when he pushed another finger in, keeping the pressure until he was knuckles deep. “Let them look,” he replied flatly, not caring in the slightest, pushing in and out of you. You closed your eyes tightly, your whimpers turning into screams when he pushed a third finger roughly. He made a sound at the back of his throat. “You’re beautiful when you scream like this,” he growled.

It hurt badly, but that pain started to ebb slightly when he started circling his thumb against your clit. It was agony on top of another. You writhed against him to try and reduce the overwhelming sensations attacking you, but it didn’t work. You moaned helplessly when his fingers sped up, his thumbs pressing down on you, until you were screaming for dear life. “Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me,” he whispered over and over again, voice getting huskier with desire.

And you did. Mingi had to hold your trembling body tight to ease you back slowly. Tears streamed down from your face - both from pain and intense pleasure - and he didn’t hesitate to lick them off. Your head lolled back, your body exhausted from just that one ordeal. “I’m going to kill you after this, I swear,” you whispered when he pulled his fingers out and got up from the bed to leave you alone for a bit. 

You heard Mingi chuckle almost fondly over the sound of something you refused to acknowledge - the sound of something metallic clinking followed by a zipping sound and fabric rustling. “You do that, love. I’d like to see you try,” he replied simply as he got naked, exposing hard muscles that lead to his cock. Even through the haze, your eyes couldn’t help but widen.

Your heart was beating crazily with fear and you had half the mind to scramble up, scooting away from him as far away as possible. Mingi stalked towards you, utterly predatory, grabbing and dragging you by the legs until your ass hit his muscular thighs. He tried to pull your pants off, but you weren’t having it. You kicked at him, successfully hitting him once or twice, but Mingi was heavier and much stronger. Eventually, he was able to get rid of your pants along with your underwear, leaving you completely bare and exposed for him.

You were panicking. If you let him touch you, your resolve would weaken and you knew it. Mingi knew it too. He wedged himself between your legs to pin your wrists above your head, nudging himself against your entrance before he finally thrusted in hard. “Mingi,” you cried out loudly, half in pleasure, mostly in pain. You felt full, the fullest you’ve ever been, and the suddenness of his thrust made your insides sting and black spots to dance behind your eyes temporarily.

Mingi wasn’t faring any better. He inhaled controlled breaths, lips pursed together in great effort not to lose himself to the sensation of your tight cunt. He grunted low, the veins on his neck pulsating with great need. When he leaned back slightly to look at you, you moaned in surprise. Just there by the surface was a look of barely-contained lust and sadism, his eyes hazing out with pure desire. You clenched around him and it was enough to drive him totally wild.

“You’re mine, Y/N, you hear me? I’ll make sure of it. Gonna fuck you so hard and have you screaming for me every night from now on,” Mingi growled, voice guttural and dripping with arousal, leaning down to kiss you, but you turned your head away. “Am I going to have to break you?” He asked softly, clearly not looking forward to the idea, but not completely opposed to it either. “I’m already inside you, baby. Not much you can do but give in, really.”

You squared your jaw in defiance. “Drop dead, Mingi,” you spat venomously.

You cried out sharply when he started thrusting into you, rough and fast just like he intended to. You couldn’t even moan out properly - he was using you as if you were a sex toy only made for his pleasure. “If you’re not going to listen to me, I hope my dick sends my message well,” he laughed sadistically at your cries and resistance. “Now, do you understand?”

He kissed you, tongue demanding to be let in as he rocked his hips to ease his cock into you over and over again, not stopping until you felt his balls slap against your ass repeatedly. He let go of your wrists to wrap around you and held on tight, thoroughly claiming every inch of your body he could touch as his. Your pride wouldn’t let you off, so you still fought him as much as you could, struggling under his restraints while you tried to distract yourself from the feeling of his cock impaling you over and over again.

But Mingi wasn’t having it. He slows down his thrusts, giving you time to get yourself together, but not before he grabs your arm, pressing and squeezing hard at a particular spot that hurts so much that you let out an actual scream of pure pain. “Ow, ow, M-Mingi, you’re hurting me,” you whined, involuntarily squeezing his cock in because the pain mixed with his cock hitting your spot over and over again did something to you. “Stop it, stop—”

“Then stop resisting and give in to me,” he said, letting go of your arm, rubbing the bruised skin tenderly for a moment. “I meant it when I said I’ll make you scream. I just didn’t specify how. And I can do it again and again until I’m satisfied. Do you want that, little love?”

You glared at him, angry tears falling from your eyes. You took a deep breath in, trying to regain some of your dignity and strength. If he wanted a clear answer from you, then he was going to wait a while. Mingi smiled nastily, pulling back out only to thrust back in viciously, pleased when you let out a guttural moan. “I told you you were mine and I meant it,” he simply said.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe it. You absolutely did, God, you really did. Your heart was aware and your body was more than willing, but your mind refused to acknowledge it. You scowled at him, expression full of loathing and hatred. You sure as hell weren’t going to tell him that. But somehow, the glint in his eyes told you he already knew as he increased his speed in fucking you. “Go fuck yourself,” you sneered. “You are never going to have all of me, I swear to you.”

“Is that so?” He raised a brow, amused. He angled his hips in a certain way and it hit a spot in you so good that you couldn’t help but keen. He did this over and over again that once you got over the initial discomfort, Mingi’s body started to feel disturbingly comfortable against yours. “Fuck, baby,” he growled, pleased with your reactions. “I swear your pussy was made for me.”

You shook your head in denial, but that just prompted him to increase his speed just a little. You started to feel heat rising within you and at this point, it was getting difficult to deny just how good this was getting, but you weren’t giving up just yet. You moaned in dissatisfaction, struggling just a bit as a futile act of defiance. Mingi clicked his tongue in annoyance, and in retaliation, lifted your legs up to your chest so he could go even deeper and you swear you saw stars.

“Did you like that?” He growled, sliding his hand down to your ass so he could pull you against him even harder. His other hand went behind your head to pull your hair, dragging your head upright. “Look at me,” he demanded. “Tell me you like it while I fuck you hard, baby.”

You whined in response, your brain not entirely cooperating with your body anymore. “Yes,” you replied without thinking, arching your back against him. You regretted it the moment it came out of your mouth, but there was nothing you could do to take it back anymore. 

Mingi shuddered. “God, you little whore. You’re so fucking beautiful, and so dirty just for me.” he moaned, utterly wrecked, before his eyes snapped back into that dark, sadistic gleam you knew him for. “But only for me, yeah?” He whispered, the threat clear in his voice. “You don’t get to be a whore outside the bedroom. Only for my eyes and no one else’s. Say it.”

You echoed his moan. Nobody had ever spoken to you like this before and your body was burning in shame, but it didn’t compare the burn of being called a whore and actually liking it. You had never felt so desired in all your life and you didn’t know how to feel. “I-I don’t know, Mingi,” you squeaked in admittance, letting out another moan when you felt him fuck into you again.

That moan turned into a whimper when he squeezed your ass cheek painfully. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” He scoffed. “Look at yourself, pretending you don’t want this. Pretending you never enjoyed all the times I supposedly ‘tormented’ you. Your pussy is telling me otherwise, little one. You always enjoyed me being in charge.”

“Are you for fucking r-real? Congratulations, M-Mingi. You’ve managed to condition someone to fear you and mistook my survival for desire for y-you” You forced out, trying to sound angry, trying to reel in your moans, looking him dead in the eye. “You know what I actually enjoyed? Everyone’s presence except yours. Even Seonghwa’s as fake as it might’ve been. He’s—”

His hand shot out so fast you barely caught it before it wrapped itself around your throat. “Do not mention his name. And let’s get this straight, you survived because I allowed you to,” he hissed in legitimate anger, eyes reddening at the sheer intensity of it. “Now shut the hell up,” he said, grip tightening enough to hurt you. “And let me fuck you.” 

Mingi slid his cock out of you before ramming it back in with more force. It knocked the air out of your lungs, but Mingi’s feral state didn’t really care. His strong fingers gripped your hips as she pulled you forward to time it with his powerful thrusts. He stared down at you, eyes hazed and mouth parted open that betrayed how good it made him feel. “Ready to give up and tell me how good my cock is making you feel yet, baby?” He groaned.

The roughness in his voice combined with the possessiveness in his eyes sent shivers all over your body and you felt your toes start to curl in pleasure. “Never. I’d rather eat glass,” you gritted out, though the moans and whimpers that fell from your mouth after said otherwise. His jaw tightened for a second before a malicious grin spread across his lips.

“M-Mingi, please, ow,” you sobbed when he put a hand on your stomach, increasing the pressure as he pressed down hard, and you felt his cock kiss your cervix as he thrust the deepest he could go. The force of it hurt and before you could even process it, his other hand slid down to your clit and slowly, he started to rub in circles. You were delirious with all these overwhelming sensations, and your loud moans proved it, but goddamn, it felt good.

It scared you. You shouldn’t feel this way. In all the months you’ve been with Mingi, you’d never felt more alive. It was easy for you to leave from the start. He was brutal and rough, but the way he looked at you and obsessed over you was something you couldn’t ignore. And that was the problem. Your body suddenly tensed with fear because you were getting attached. Mingi felt the tension and paused. “Relax, love,” he murmured. “I don’t want it to hurt. Not too much, at least.”

He was never going to stop, and you knew how much this could hurt if you continued to tense up. So as much as you hated it, you tried to relax, gasping and feeling your cunt clench around him as he worked your clit, echoing his moans when he picked up the pace. “So fucking good, baby,” Mingi groaned harshly, the movement of his hips becoming erratic, breathing getting heavier.

He started to bite all over your shoulder, nuzzling your neck to pepper it with little kisses, his hand traveling from your tummy to your tits, alternating between squeezing and pinching your nipples. And when his lips found yours to set another brutal onslaught, eventually you found yourself kissing him back, no less brutal than him. It was all tongue and teeth gnashing against one another. “Mmm,” you moaned helplessly in his mouth, focusing on your pleasure this time.

To your surprise, Mingi slows down. Instead of the fast and shallow pounding, it became longer and deeper. You whined in response, not being able to believe that this could feel even better. His eyes were smouldering as he looked at you, pulling back and sinking into you over and over again with surprisingly gentle motions. “Wrap your arms around me,” he ordered.

You couldn’t speak, but it didn’t matter. Your wanton moans told him everything he needed to know. “You love this,” he grunted, pausing in between to suck and bite your neck. You moaned out a quiet response, pulling his hair a bit in affirmation. “Fuck,” he growled, shuddering at the sensation. “Tell me again,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.

You felt a wave of shameful pleasure ripple through you at the thought of actually having to repeat yourself but louder, especially while looking to those eyes that you feared so much these past few months. Your lips stayed shut, too embarrassed and prideful to say what he wanted to hear. He huffed impatiently, coaxing a response from you. “M-Mingi, please,” you whined.

But Mingi knew you. He leaned down, nuzzling your neck to position yourselves into an intimate embrace so you wouldn’t look him in the eye and you knew that you just ran out of excuses. “You drive me fucking insane, I swear,” he confessed through grunts. “Tell me what you want, baby doll, I’ll give it to you. Just as I’ve given you everything so far. I’ll put you on top so you can ride my cock and tell me, do you want that?”

You let out a breathy ‘no’ in response and he smiled against your ear. “You love it when I’m top of you, hmm?” He asked, voice getting huskier. You had to hold on to his shoulder to stop yourself from feeling faint. “You love it when I hold you down like this? When you feel dominated?”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, not being able to take it anymore. He growled, pleased with your response, sinking his teeth into your throat before he leaned back again, groaning when he saw how far gone you were, and it was all for him. “I do, Mingi, I do, Please.”

He grasped your chin roughly, making sure your entire attention is all on him, all traces of pleasure gone to be replaced with the familiar sadism and brutality for a second as he spoke. “If you ever look at someone the way you’re looking at me right now, I’m going to destroy you,” he asserted, the threat coated with nothing but the truth and the determination to carry it out if you ever even think of crossing him. “I promise you that, Y/N. I’ll do something I can’t take back.”

His thrusts became downright rough once more as he filled you over and over again, his intent clear with the goal of making you come. It should have hurt, but you didn’t care about the pain anymore. Your fingers curled, scratching his skin in desperation, and somehow with that  threat, you lost it. You opened your mouth to let out an animalistic sound you didn’t even recognise as your own, body bucking against Mingi’s as waves of pleasure finally crashed over you.

“Yes, just like that, squeeze my cock. God, baby, you’re gonna make me fucking come,” he cursed under his breath as he tried to chase his own high. His hips jerked, pressing his forehead to yours and let out a primal growl that sent a thrill through you. A harsh moan of your name escapes his lips as you feel his cock pulse, warmth filling your insides to the brim.

You were exhausted, laying next to Mingi as his cum started to drip out of you, but you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was sleep all week. The regret was already building, but you were too tired to even entertain it. You were about to fall unconscious when you felt him stir beside you. “Come here real quick,” he muttered before his hand shot out, gripping your jaw hard to force your face towards his. “Open your mouth.”

Your pulse hammered as you fought the urge to pull away, but you do as he says anyway, eyes widening in surprise and panic when he stuck his fingers in. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he began calmly, pausing to watch every flicker of emotion cross your face. “You’re going to freshen up so you could take a quick nap, pack some of your clothes, and then go downstairs. I’m going home and you’re coming with me. You understand that so far, little one?”

Your eyes widened, hesitating, but he sticks his fingers a bit deeper in your throat and you choke on them. “I said, do you understand me?” Mingi reiterated. You finally gave him a reluctant nod, tears in your eyes. “Good,” he said, taking his fingers out. “Get rest. I’ll wake you up after.”

He released you as though nothing had happened, getting up to put his clothes back on. The second he turned, you lunged. The lamp left your hand before you could think, crashing against the wall as he sidestepped it with irritating ease. “You have got to stop trying to kill me, Y/N. You’re giving me a massive hard-on,” he clicked his tongue. 

You grabbed another random item, but all he did was grab your wrist, exhaling tiredly rather than in anger. “Stop it. I will fuck you again, I mean it,” he said. “And when I do, I will be forced to drag your pretty ass with me because you’re not going to be able to walk after. You and I both know I’m very, very well-versed in dragging dead weight.”

The certainty in his voice chilled you far more than the threat itself. His words lodged something deep in your chest, though. He moved at ease like nothing between you happened when in reality, everything happened. “You’re shameless, you know?” You scoffed, breathing ragged to contain yourself. “I understand you want to assert control over me, but there are better ways. I don’t believe that you were actually going to kill me, so do you even like me, Mingi?”

His eyes never left you and that only made the anger in your chest fester. Mingi didn't say anything for a while and he looked like he was actually genuinely thinking of what to say in response to your loaded question. “You wouldn’t be alive if I didn’t,” he finally said. “And I was going to. I tried many times. Failed multiple times. Backed out twice as much.”

You were taken aback, blinking in disbelief. But the way Mingi stared at you dead in the eye with seriousness on his face told you that he wasn’t lying. You bit your lip, swallowing down emotions you didn’t dare name out loud. “No. Do you even honestly care for my well-being?” You said instead, ignoring his second answer. “Or do you just want to possess me just because you can?”

Mingi regarded you for a long moment. There wasn't a flicker of guilt in his face, just that same maddening composure. “What’s the difference?” He asked, the question landing with no emotion as though the distinction had never once occurred to him.

Something in you just fell apart then and there and for the first time since meeting him, you didn’t have any retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. Your shoulders slumped with exhaustion more than defeat. “You scare me,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, eyes burning with tears you knew he could see. “You genuinely scare me, Song Mingi.”

His mouth parted in surprise, brows raising a bit as if he expected you to say anything but that. When he did speak, his voice was softer and quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “On the contrary,” he began breathlessly. “You scare me.”

You frowned. There was no manipulation in his voice. His gaze wandered slowly across your face until he met your eyes without blinking. “This,” he said softly. “The way you’re looking at me right now. I was wondering whether there was anything underneath the fear and disdain.”

The words were quiet, even your heartbeat was more deafening. His tongue pressed against his cheek. “I’m scared,” he repeated calmly. “Of the day you stop looking at me like this.”

You huffed in defiance, folding your arms over your seatbelt, refusing to acknowledge Mingi as he drove. It wasn’t like you were the only one not speaking anyway, the moment he basically shoved you and your haphazardly packed luggage in his car, he hadn't spoken a word. “Where are you taking me, you brute?” You asked harshly, not being able to take the silence anymore.

A small smile takes over Mingi’s sharp face and you have to stop the urge to curse out loud. The light hit his handsome features just right, his darkened hair falling over his forehead slightly as he effortlessly manoeuvered the wheel. “Home, I told you,” he said. “Have I not made myself clear enough? I won’t do anything to you, little peach, so don’t worry.”

“That’s not gonna be good enough,” you replied in anger. “And I was home. You know, the one you broke into - which I still don’t know how long you’ve been in there before you ambushed me, by the way - and the one you took me from without permission. I want to go back.”

“Well, this is the best you’re going to get,” he retorted, something flashing in his eyes quickly before it disappeared. “You’re in no position to make demands here. You’re mine. I’m the one who gets to decide what happens to you from here then on so I suggest you get used to it. Or you can spend the rest of your life being chased by me. You pick. I don’t mind either option.”

There was a fleeting second where you imagined both scenarios, and both of them made you tremble either way. You sneered at him in an attempt to look as though you weren’t flustered. “I really, really hope you rot in hell, Mingi,” you glared at him venomously. “Truly.”

He laughed. Really laughed. The kind that made his body vibrate, eyes crinkle almost shut, and all of his teeth bared that reflected his genuine joy. “And here I was thinking that you’d be a little more cooperative after waking up from that power nap,” he chuckled. “Regardless, I can always use more methods of coercion if you can’t be civil with me.”

“Civil?” You echoed in disbelief, a look of disgust on your face. “Look at me!”

He spared a short sideways glance towards you, smirking at the sight of the hickeys and bruises that littered your skin, savouring the wince you let out when he purposefully hit a road bump just now. “Nothing that won’t heal in a matter of days,” he brushed off nonchalantly, killing the car engine. “Though that could be arranged right now if you’re interested.”

You weren’t going to give him the reaction so you stayed silent until he rounded up in the nicer part of the city, clearly away from your tax bracket, and killed the engine in front of the fanciest building in the area. “Get cosy,” he muttered the moment you both entered his place and closed the door, taking his jacket off and tossing it somewhere before setting his wallet and keys on the marble kitchen island. “I have a quick phone call to make. I’ll be right back.”

It was only until he left that you allowed yourself to breathe. You let your eyes drift around the apartment. It was beautiful, that much was undeniable. You weren’t surprised; Mingi had money and he sure acted like it. Yet somehow, it felt empty. Not because it didn’t have Mingi’s personal effects, but because it lacked life. There was something about this apartment that felt so hollow to you, like it was more of a showroom rather than something that’s supposed to be lived in.

You don’t know what compelled you to explore. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was boredom, but either way, you weren’t going to sit still and wait for Mingi to come back. Truth be told, it just screamed Mingi all over even though there wasn’t much. The apartment had a modern touch to it, little knick-knacks here and there organised neatly, a small table with a crystal decanter full of whiskey, and just about everything that you knew Mingi had meticulously curated himself.

Something that looked out of place, however, was a glass cabinet situated in the corner. It was clean, too clean, not one speck of dust and you can easily tell that this was the only sign of life in this place and that Mingi took very good care of it. You took a closer look and frowned. You were expecting a wine collection, or perhaps luxury items like watches and whatnot, but not these.

Awards, medals, and trophies. Not a lot, but still a significant amount. One in particular was a medal encased in a fancy box, another sat in an acrylic display with nothing else. None of them were engraved, nothing to signify what they were for, not even photographs of Mingi receiving them or dates, but all of them did have a small insignia, but you didn’t recognise what it was.

What you did recognise, though, was the folder that was in the middle of the dining table when you turned around. You bit your lip, glancing down the hallway where Mingi disappeared to. You really shouldn’t, every instinct screamed at you to leave it alone, but you picked it up anyway. The moment you do, that familiar adrenaline rushes back to you. This was the same folder you found in Mingi’s office back then, the one where you almost got caught looking at.

Confidential: High-Value Targets, K.O.S. You swallowed, it was the exact same, only this time, you noticed the same unfamiliar insignia when you opened it. You didn’t get the opportunity to do so back then, but something in you had this need to see what it contained as if your life depended entirely on it. And maybe it did, you were about to find out.

The first page contained a photo of a man. There were categories alongside that split into categories like basic information, aliases and financial records, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. “Charges?” You murmured in confusion, eyes widening when you read further. “What the hell? Mass weapon distribution ring?” You breathed out, a knot forming in your chest. 

You haphazardly turned the pages, not caring if they get wrinkled or not, quickly skimming through everything, unable to stop the trembling of your hands. There were more people, charges more alarming than the last - extortion, cybersecurity threat, political anarchy, and money laundering to name a few - but then it just got worse. The worst ones you saw were drugs and human trafficking, organised crime, and homicide. But all of them had the same thing.

TARGET STATUS: NEUTRALISED

You put your hands to your mouth when you flip to the next page, trying not to puke. It was the man from the trail, the one whose dead eyes still haunted your nightmares sometimes. Witness intimidation and international warrants, it said. Mr. Yamada was there as well. The same lecherous smile, same expensive suit, but this time he had political corruption and sexual exploitation labeled to him. Both of them had the same status - neutralised.

Your vision blurred, knees threatening to buckle as you barely held onto the edge of the table for support. Out of all the things you did and saw, you knew deep inside that this was the thing you should’ve never crossed. None of these made sense at all, and worst of all, why was Mingi in possession of something this detrimental? Your breathing became increasingly uneven, hands trembling so violently that several pages slipped through your fingers at once. 

You instinctively bent down to retrieve them, but before you could reach it, another set of fingers grabbed them first. You paled, gaze slowly climbing upwards to meet Mingi’s eyes. His eyes were unreadable, but you were positive he wasn’t mad. “I-I can explain,” you blurted out anxiously.

He stared at you for a few seconds, finally letting out a sigh before putting his phone back against his ear. “Change of plans, Joong. Stay where you are,” he spoke tiredly, pausing to pinch his nose bridge with his fingers, eyes closed. “The little birdie found the worm all by herself.”

Mingi ended the call. He glanced down at the papers you dropped and one of them in particular had him tense for a second before he calmly placed everything back at the table. His eyes went back to you, waiting for you to say something. “What,” you cleared your throat when your voice cracked. “W-What are these, Mingi?”

His stare was uncomfortable, not because it was loaded since his eyes held no contempt, no accusations, and no anger, but because it felt like he was trying to read you just so he could reply accordingly - something he never really did with you. “You tell me,” Mingi spoke softly, almost thoughtful. “You have talent in snooping and you’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”

You swallowed. God, this felt like a test of some sorts. “You’re blackmailing these people,” you blurted out, saying the first thing that popped in your head. “A-And when they don’t give you what you want from them then you…neutralise them.”

Silence. For the first time since you’ve met him, Mingi was actually speechless. Ridiculously so. His mouth was slightly agape, eyes blinking at you multiple times as if he was trying to convince himself he heard wrong. And then, he laughed out loud, the utter disbelief audible from the sound. “You really are something, Y/N,” he chuckled fondly. “Out of all the scenarios you could give, honestly. Well, I suppose that is one way to insult me.”

He walked towards the glass cabinet, pulling out a hidden compartment you didn’t even realise was there. Inside sat more paperwork, multiple passports, some handguns that made you freeze, but he set those aside to grab a small wallet. He picked it up, pursing his lips as if deciding if this was the right thing to do, before holding it out towards you. “Open it,” he urged.

You barely obeyed him. The wallet itself was minimal and elegant, but there was something about it that was heavy. Not because of its weight, but because of what you saw when you unfolded it. “No, t-this can’t be,” you whispered, hands trembling, greatly so. There was an ID, Mingi’s younger face staring at you, eyes less empty but still chilling nonetheless, and there was no mistaking the government seal embossed into the corner along with his information.

Name: Song MingiAge: 30Position: Senior Special Operations AgentLevel: BlackActing Overseer: Park SeonghwaGeneral Supervisor: Kang YeosangOperational Status: ActiveAuthorised to Kill On Sight

A pounding noise filled the apartment and it took you a second to realise that you were hearing your own heartbeat. You dropped the wallet, unable to control the intensity in which your body shook. You shot your eyes at him and his expressionless eyes stared back. “Y-You’re not a serial killer,” you blubbered out in disbelief. “You’re not just some cold-blooded killer who just kills whenever he wants or something?”

Mingi scoffed before he picked the wallet up. “If we’re being technical, I am. Make no mistake,” he explained as he put it back in the compartment, closing it. “But for the most part, no. The government wants these people out. I just so happen to be the best at what I do.”

God, you wanted to slap yourself to wake up from this nightmare. This completely rewrites everything you’ve ever known and believed. You’ve spent the last few months convincing yourself you were trapped beside a serial killer, but was the truth marginally better? You were so out of it that you didn’t hear Mingi sigh before he held your elbows, leading you to the couch and sitting you down. “You kill people for a living,” you stated bluntly.

The corners of his mouth lifted barely into half a smile. “Yes,” he replied, one brow raised in amusement, arms crossed as he looked down at you. “To put it simply, there are people that the government wants gone. The ones that really need to go. These are people that justice will never touch, Y/N. People that range from guilty to national security threats and they’re like ghosts; elusive because they’re aware that people are after them.”

Your mouth dropped. You thought that only happened in fiction. When you didn’t respond, he continued. “When the option of justice disappears, people like me become the option,” he shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “They give me a list,” he pointed at the paperwork on the table. “I make sure that they wish they were never born. Plain and simple.” 

It was insane. Your eyes were being opened to a whole new world out there and that world was literally just sitting right beneath your nose all this time and you barely had any idea. You could barely look at Mingi right now without wanting to break down because how were you supposed to just take this all in? “A-Are there more of you?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Mingi hummed. He tilted his head at you, analysing you. He wasn’t expecting you to ask that, hell, you bet he was expecting you to act erratically. “A handful,” he admitted. “This is as discreet as it gets, there isn’t really a job market for this. The elimination process is…grueling, and obviously, not a lot of people want to do it. You’ve met about half of the entire operation already.”

He smirked when your eyes widened. “Wooyoung and Hongjoong. Different specialties, but same job description, nonetheless,” he explained. A shiver ran up your spine. It made sense, everything made sense - Hongjoong’s attitude towards Mingi and Wooyoung’s nonchalance with Yamada and his reaction at the stairwell that same night. “And you’ve met Yeosang at the gala.”

Your brows knitted. “Good-looking guy, birthmark here,” he pointed at his left temple. And that’s when it hit. That unsettling man who talked to Mingi, how could you forget? You nodded slowly. “He’s the Big Boss’ son. He actually trained me,” he huffed, a small flicker of respect reflecting his features. “Only one of two who are above me by rank. Besides his father, obviously.”

Somehow, that made plenty of sense. You remembered the way Mingi unconsciously straightened when Yeosang approached, the absolute lack of his usual bravado, and the effortless authority Yeosang seemed to carry that felt much heavier than Mingi’s. “And Seonghwa?” You asked. “Yunho? Where do they both fit here?”

Mingi laughed, shaking his head. “Yunho’s innocent, just a regular worker. We still need to keep a legitimate front to keep the operation behind wraps. Seonghwa, on the other hand, he’s a bit…” he trailed off, trying to find the right word. “...different. He used to do what I do.”

The amusement faded from his face before he continued. “He’s been doing this since he was eighteen and he’d already done more than enough. He was tired, but retirement doesn’t really exist in this line of work. Truth was, Big Boss didn’t want to let him go. It would be foolish to let go of the man who perfected this system after all. So, he offered him a compromise.”

It wasn’t that difficult to believe. You watched Seonghwa hold the knife that night. Turns out, the most dangerous man was the one you trusted the most. “The compromise,” you murmured, swallowing heavily. “Was it KQ?”

“Smart girl,” Mingi smirked. “See, for this to work, we needed discretion. We can’t just eliminate them out of the blue and for no reason. People would ask questions, and that’s the last thing we wanted. Unfortunately, these bastards aren't dumb, so it’s extremely difficult to isolate them and make their deaths believable. However, all of them do have one thing in common.”

Your mouth had gone dry, but you found yourself leaning slightly forward to anticipate the answer anyway. “Greed,” Mingi said. “Money and investing makes it easy to lure them out. All we have to do is make it look like a transaction gone awry. Seonghwa gets the life he wants and we get access to the people we need. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

“So, in essence, KQ is a real company that runs on legitimate business that also happens to be an intelligence network where Seonghwa still runs things behind the scenes without being in the actual field. Did I get that right?” You asked. When Mingi nodded, you laughed in disbelief. “No wonder you didn’t care if I went to the police or not. I would’ve looked like a massive idiot.”

Silence settled over the apartment. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to feel because everything just makes perfect sense. In your eyes, he was still a psychopath. The only distinction was that he was the government’s psychopath. “Everything you did was legal,” you sighed in defeat. “Why didn’t you say so? Why let me believe otherwise?”

Mingi raised a brow, amusement curling his lips. “You didn’t ask,” he shrugged.

Admittedly, you didn’t think your question through and it was a stupid one in hindsight. Also, you were never going to get a straight answer from Mingi anyway, at least, nothing that pleased you, but seeing how nonchalant he was still shot anger through you. “Are you being for real?”

Mingi crossed his arms, a deadpanned look in his eyes. “Says you. You were the one playing blind like it was going to work in the first place,” he pointed out, dry and flat. He turns around - which was a good thing so he couldn't see how red you were from rage and shame. You watched him grab only one paper from the folder before he walked back, this time, sitting across you.

Without a word, he slides the paper from across the table. You stared at him for a second before your fingers pulled it towards you. You expected to see another random face in there, but when you saw a blank piece of paper with only your face in it, you almost dropped it, heart falling down to your foot. 

“Relax, sweet pea, it’s not what you think it is,” he immediately said the moment he saw your panicked face. “The system can’t eliminate you simply because you were never a criminal to begin with, much less witness one happen right before your very eyes.”

“But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You saw it,” Mingi stated plainly. He pointed at the paper in your hands. “That makes you a witness to an ongoing operation and a walking liability to something that was never meant for the public eye. I’m not going to lie to you, you caused quite the divide with the team back then for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

That caught your attention. “I don’t understand,” you frowned. “You said it yourself. Wrong place, wrong time. I didn’t mean any harm, I could have kept my mouth shut.”

Mingi smirked, shaking his head cynically. “People die because of what could have and should have. Don’t make me laugh here,” he scoffed. “At the end of the day, I am nothing but an agent no matter how high my rank is and I still had to answer to someone. That meant I had to tell Seonghwa. And Seonghwa had to tell Yeosang. And we do have protocols for this.”

“Yeosang was angry, obviously. He wanted to enact protocol immediately, hence that paper in your hand,” he continued. You swallowed audibly at that. “I happen to fancy you a little too much to let that happen, so I hired you. Having you work for me ensured that you didn’t blab to the wrong people. Plus, it wasn’t like you weren’t dying to work for me, anyway. No pun intended.”

“God, Mingi, you are such a massive asshole, I swear to God,” you scoffed. The way he talked about it rubbed you off the wrong way, though admittedly, you could see where he was coming from. “So, what? Am I supposed to thank you? My life is in shambles now, no thanks to you.”

“Yes, actually, you should,” he raised a brow, unimpressed. “Because lucky for you, Seonghwa took a genuine liking to you so it wasn’t difficult for me to disobey protocol and keep you and convince Yeosang to not tell his father about you, because trust me, you would not like that.”

You stayed silent, not really wanting to know what he meant by that. “Paper’s blank, love. I didn’t go through with it. I had no reason to and I still don’t. Even if they threatened me, I still won’t. You were innocent and I was aware of that. I’m not the animal you think I am, Y/N, and I don’t gain anything from killing civilians.”

Your fingers curled around the paper until it crumpled slightly. It wasn't compassion nor was it mercy. To Mingi, your life had been spared for the same reason someone chose not to swat a fly that landed on them. It wasn’t because it deserved to live, but because it simply wasn't worth the inconvenience. You didn’t know what to feel about that.

You got up, marching towards the dining table to hastily grab the folder before smacking it across the coffee table in front of Mingi, fuming with the repressed anger that had been building for months. “There were a hundred different ways this could’ve been handled. My entire career is a fucking lie,” you seethed. “There was no need for me to be dragged to KQ like some sort of luggage for something I didn’t even mean to see.”

Mingi regarded you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “I understand you’re angry, love, but I don’t regret what I did,” he said, gaze settling on you, unwavering. “Big Boss and the other directors aren’t exactly known for being kind, Y/N. If they find out, you would’ve been a goner. Personally, you know I find absolutely no problem in hurting you. However…”

“...that had been with my own hands,” he continued. “I didn’t want them to hurt you. That’s an entirely different beast, and you would never be the same afterwards. You don’t have to like it. But the fact of the matter is that you were there that day. And unfortunately, we have protocol for it. Protocols that are written in blood, both by the bad and the innocent, and they are the reason why order exists on things that aren’t supposed to happen, do you understand that?”

You turned around, ready to walk away, when he grabbed your arm to spin you around, his eyes ablaze. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me,” he hissed. “I need you to understand that I did what I did to stop them from taking you from me, Y/N. I didn’t want your blood on my hands.”

You didn’t want to believe him. Mingi had spent way too long being angry over him making a fool out of you and you weren’t about to let him do it again. And even then, it wasn’t specifically because he cared for you. “I would rather hurt you once if it means protecting you forever,” he sighed heavily, letting your arm go. “Not one ‘thank you’ from that pretty mouth of yours.” 

That last thread of patience snapped. “Protection isn’t impressive when you’re the reason I needed protection in the first place,” you spat venomously, trying to pry his hand off of you. And there was still something that bothered you more than anything else. “And what about me?” You asked, afraid of the answer, but had to ask anyway. “Where exactly do I fit in in all of this?”

He knew you were at the warehouse that night and he knows that you know that he never needed a translator. Something completely shifted in Mingi’s eyes. That detached indifference dissolved into something more unnerving.  His pupils seemed darker somehow, fixed entirely on you with an intensity that bordered on reverence and possession all at once. It wasn’t lust or desire, not entirely, but it was something much worse that made you freeze.

Fixation and obsession. His hand rose, knuckles brushing your cheek, fingers disappearing behind your neck to cradle it. “Nothing,” he whispered, fingers spreading possessively across your neck, a faint smile tugging at his lips when you squirmed. “But everything at the same time. You and my profession are two separate things. You are my greatest professional failure, love.”

He tilted your face upward, forcing your eyes back to his. “At least that’s how it all started,” he spoke, his expression flattening. “You were my responsibility for the longest time. And I absolutely detested you for being on that trail because no matter what you did, everything would have come back to me. Who do you think they’d kill after they finished you?” 

That sent shivers up your spine. “Keeping you long enough to kill you, myself, if I see you fuck up was my only reprieve,” he chuckled. “But the longer I watched you, the more I found myself just keeping you for the shits and giggles. You are the most fascinating thing I’ve ever come across and I don’t ever want to let that go. The thought of it, alone, is enough to make me very angry.”

His eyes held yours with unnerving certainty, hand tightening around the back of your neck. “You represented the ruin of my art. You saw what I did that day, and yet, you’re still here. Alive…something you’re not supposed to be. So, yeah, I’m keeping you. Whether you like it or not. After that trail, you became mine. Trying to escape won’t do you good, I guarantee you.”

You were horrified. Mingi was completely obsessed with you, and he was never going to let you go. He was never going to apologise for playing with you and it wasn’t because he wasn’t capable of remorse, but because in his eyes, remorse is reserved for mistakes. This was no mistake to him; it was a calculated risk. He had absolute control the entire time and that realisation was more unsettling. You had no idea how you got here from where this all started.

“You are absolutely insane. You can’t just objectify me like this just because you want to, you prick,” you snapped, wrenching your head away from his grasp, taking a few steps backwards. “I’m human, Mingi, I have aspirations and things I wanna do and achieve. I want to be loved—”

“And I will give you those,” Mingi bargained. “Isn’t this as close to love as you’re going to get? You’ll have everything you want and more. I’ll give you everything and I can even learn to love you the way you like it. Being mine won’t be too different from the life you had before—” 

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” you cried out, thoroughly done with him. “I don’t need you. I don’t want to be with you, don’t you get it? I already have people who love me who won’t hurt me or force me into situations I don’t want to be in. I don’t need your fucked up version of love when I already have friends who genuinely care for me waiting for me to come home to them.”

Silence. For the longest time, all you could hear was your own heartbeat. Mingi stared at you, eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your stomach churn. His eyes hollowed out, fixed on nothing and everything at once, before his lips twitched into something cynical. And then, he started laughing. At first, it sounded normal, but when the deranged vacancy in his laughter started to fill the entire apartment, that’s when it truly hit you - Mingi was a madman.

“I don’t know about that, love,” he said, tone almost insulting in its indifference despite the loud, bellowing laugh he let out earlier. “None of these so-called ‘friends’ of yours have called you within the last few hours you’ve been with me starting from when we fucked on your bed earlier. You might want to rethink that statement of yours before I make you. ”

You froze. Every word chipped away at the illusion you hadn't even realized you'd been clinging to, because he was right, and the way he started stalking towards you slows means he knew it, too. “W-What did you do to them?” You stammered, terrified out of your wits as you stepped back, only to be stopped when your feet hit the couch. “What did you do?”

“Relax,” he chuckled, wrapping his arm all over your waist to pull you close. “They’re safe. Hongjoong is there as we speak and by now, he’s probably briefed them. Choi Jongho will be put into a witness protection programme. Since Yeosang and I go way back, he did me a favour and put him there. We just had to tweak it a little since the board cannot know he’s related to your case. He will not get hurt, and he will be put in a safer place, that I can guarantee.”

“But can I just go to that same programme?”

Mingi shook his head. “What makes his case doable is simply because he overheard something he wasn’t supposed to. I knew he was with you that night when me and Wooyoung were arguing by the staircase. Yes, you were both nosy, but still very much innocent and are civilians.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, the guilt riding on your back lifting at the fact that at least, Jongho was going to be alright. It’s been eating at you that you dragged him into this. “How do I know that you’re not lying?” You asked, suspicious.

He raised a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You have my word,” he said. “Which probably doesn’t mean much. Hongjoong will call in a little to update me and you can ask him,  yourself, then. I knew you were quite fond of my temporary assistant as he was of you.”

Relief hit you so suddenly your knees nearly gave out. For the first time in months, you weren’t thinking about surviving. “So this is it then,” you murmured, putting distance between you two. “You have no reason to keep me here. You’ve let me live alone on my own for months when I was working with you and you can just watch me from afar. Nothing changes so I’m leaving.”

Mingi didn't answer for a while. Then, the corners of his mouth lifted into the smallest smile. Without waiting for him to say something, you started to walk away. You meant it, you were going home. You refuse to play into Mingi’s cards no more, refuse to let him fiddle with you—

“I only mentioned one friend, sweetheart. I reckon you have two you were looking out for.”

The coldest bucket of water could’ve been poured on you on the spot but it wouldn’t beat the glacial fear that ran from your spine all the way to your toes. San. You had to mechanically turn yourself around, your frigid body locking in on itself as you forced yourself to look at him. There was pity in his eyes, but the mocking and contempt in them was difficult to ignore.

“He’s a tricky case, you know?” Mingi chuckled. “He’s a witness by association. He never witnessed anything and was never in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only misfortune he has is being that one sponge who absorbs every information without meaning to. Out of you three, he’s the most extreme liability. You and Jongho both work in KQ. We don’t know anything about Choi San except that he’s connected to you. Do you know what that means, love?”

Tears prickled behind your eyes. You thought you knew fear when you tried to outsmart Mingi on that trail, when you’ve witnessed multiple murders, or when you’ve been this close to being caught many times, but apparently, this was it. “It means,” Mingi whispered, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “He’s in limbo. Can’t be in the programme because he didn’t do enough but he also can’t be left alone because Big Boss is very particular about civilians knowing sensitive info.”

“No,” you breathed out, having to steady yourself to the nearest table. Genuine emotion cracked through your composure, and terror flooded every inch of you so violently it burned because this was San. “You,” you let out, voice shaking, lifting an equally trembling finger to point derisively at Mingi. “You stay the fuck away from him, you hear me?”

He was the person who never left; the one person who packed his life into two suitcases because you asked. "You ruined my life," you cried out, voice loud enough to carry to the next generation. "You dragged me into this. You manipulated me and lied to me for months for your sick satisfaction, and now you're telling me my best friend has to pay for your mistakes?" 

He smiled. It was small, but somehow, it looked more dangerous than all of the smirks he’s ever shown you. He had the upper hand and he reveled in it. But he didn’t bother replying; didn’t really need to. The way you unraveled in front of him was more than enough. “What do you want, Mingi?” You asked through gritted teeth. “Just…tell me what you want.”

The question came out more defeated than you’d like. You were tired of this back and forth and knowing him, there was already an answer waiting at the tip of his tongue just itching to be said. Mingi studied your face for several seconds before answering. “Surrender yourself to me.”

You felt sick. “I’ll make sure Big Boss doesn’t even get a whiff of Choi San’s scent,” he continued. “I’ll assume personal responsibility for him and make sure he gets to be in the same programme as your other friend. He will matter simply because he matters to me. And because he matters to me,” he tilted his head, smirking. “Nobody touches him. As long as you’re with me, that is.” 

Your eyes widened at the insinuation. He was basically asking you to sell his soul to him in exchange for San’s safety and he was bargaining it like it was some sort of contractual paperwork. “You’re blackmailing me,” you stated flatly. “You’re a monster, Mingi.”

He shrugged carelessly as though none of this mattered to him. “Call it what you will,” he said. "I call it the only arrangement where everyone you love walks away breathing."

Your knees finally gave out and you collapsed onto the edge of the sofa, your back sliding against it comically slow, squeezing your eyes shut. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, but you were just so exhausted. There was no point because this wasn’t survival anymore. Your consent had long been gone. “Fine,” was all you said even though you shattered on the inside.

Mingi exhaled, but not because he was pleased. It was because he was getting impatient, because to him, your answer should’ve been immediate. He wasn’t entirely pleased because he was already expecting it even though it took you a while. “Good,” he uttered, stepping closer, and for a second he thought he was going to corner you physically just because he could.

But then, he went straight, bending to grab the folder you haphazardly smacked against the table in anger earlier before squatting down eye level with you. “Sign it,” he muttered, jutting said folder towards you. “You’re my little spitfire and that’s what I like about you, but I don’t trust you. I need a guarantee you won’t run. This was what you were bound to do eventually anyway.”

You scowled bitterly at him. As if this piece of paper could stop you from simply running away anyway. You were about to reach and grab the folder, but you paused at the last second. His last statement. That went over your head for a second there. “Hold on,” you frowned. “What the hell do you mean? I’m pretty sure the government has nothing to do with your obsession with me.”

He let out a breathy chuckle that would’ve otherwise been innocent in any other situation. “No, not entirely. It’s just purely for assurance because I realised something rather inconvenient,” he said, thumb brushing lazily over the edge of the folder. “You are going to leave me eventually,” he paused to look you dead in the eye. “So I gave you something you couldn’t walk away from.”

You stared at him, confused. When Mingi saw that you were genuinely clueless, his brows raised, stunned in silence for a few seconds. “You’ve always been very bright, love,” he began, gently brushing your hair away from your face. You fought the urge to shirk away from the infantalising gesture. “But every now and then, you do disappoint me. ”

A chill crawled up your spine. Something tells you that whatever this was will change everything. You just didn’t know or understand how. “Remember this?” He lifted the folder up with a smirk. Your heartbeat pounded painfully against your ribs, not knowing where he was going with this. His fingers tapped once against the folder. “This was just files to you. Now, we have a problem.”

He opened it again, flipping each of the pages you’ve already seen yourself earlier, and he kept flipping until he got to the very last page of the entire dossier, raising it for you to see. A red classification stamp stretched across the whole page, but that wasn’t the part that made your stomach drop to your foot.

GOVERNMENT INTELLIGENCELEVEL BLACK FILESUNAUTHORISED ACCESS STRICTLY PROHIBITEDMUST REPORT IF UNCLEARED

“I…I-I don’t understand,” you blurted out, taking the folder in your hands to read it over and over again, because deep inside, you wanted to deny the facts that were slowly forming into a whole picture in your head. 

Mingi watched your face carefully. “Before today, you were merely a civilian who accidentally witnessed an operation,” he began, that sinister look in his eyes darkening the more he spoke. “And that’s fine. You can’t be punished for something you didn’t do wittingly. But now…”

He leaned, his lips a couple of inches away from your ears. “You’ve knowingly accessed confidential government dossiers, operational identities, assets, agent procedures, and most damning of them all, the criminal’s identities. These are things that must remain in secrecy within. You could have had at least some semblance to your old life.”

You wanted to throw up, the realisation settling into your stomach with sickening clarity and heaviness. He leaned away, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “I really do have to keep you now, love,” he chuckled. “I really, really do.”

Your eyes burned with the sudden onslaught of tears, but you refused to let them fall. You hated that he could read your fear so effortlessly. You wanted to move, to put distance between you, but your legs felt useless beneath you. “That's not fair,” you tried to reason. “I didn't know I couldn't look. It’s my damn fault you dragged me here.”

“Unfortunately, ignorance of the law excuses no one,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“It's your word against mine,” you shot back. “Nobody’s going to know I looked at it.”

Mingi smirked, turning and tilting his head to look up and when you followed his line of sight, you were met with the sight of a small camera in the corner of the room. Of course, you thought bitterly. The walls seemed to close in on you. You clutched your chest, willing for that claustrophobic pain to go away. All you wanted was to have your old life back, and somehow, even that option had been taken away from you.

Amidst all of that, something inside you snapped. Mingi was a very meticulous person. Obsessively so. Even looking around his apartment right now, it was easy to tell how neat and orderly he was, and somehow, a folder that important had been left out carelessly. “You did this on purpose,” you blurted out, breathing turning ragged. 

Mingi’s brows lifted, eyes snapping at you with renewed interest. He didn’t answer, and somehow, that was ironically all the answer you needed. You stood up, something hot and violent surging through you. “You left that folder out on purpose,” you seethed, jabbing your finger to his chest to emphasise every word. “You fucking psychopath, I’m going to—”

Mingi held both your hands to restrain you, mouth stretching into a smile so delighted that it bordered on erratic. “I did,” he admitted, eyes shining not with fear that he’d been found out, but with unbridled excitement. “But I didn’t tell you to look, did I? It was there, yes, but you…” He laughed quietly at first, but your ashen face fell when it got louder. There was something horribly wrong with it. “Oh, baby doll,” he broke off, laughing under his breath. “You can’t blame me for everything. I distinctly remember telling you to make yourself at home, I didn’t force you to look through the folder. But you want to know what I did know?”

His expression changed, not entirely because the ecstatic smile remained, but his eyes had gone colder. “I knew you’d snoop,” he said without any ounce of shame or apology. “I know you. And I know you wanted answers, so I gave you the opportunity to find them. You should be thanking me, honestly, and it’s not my fault you have no self-control.”

Your lips parted, breathing becoming uneven. That would explain why he wasn’t surprised or angry when he saw you looking through the files - he was waiting for the moment that you did. The room spun, nausea threatening to send you into a massive black out. The moment you opened that folder, you had already lost. “You manipulated me,” you said, voice cracking midway.

“No,” he corrected as though he’d rehearsed this conversation long before you’d ever walked into his apartment. “I guided you. You made the choice. I just simply knew which one you’d make.”

Fury-fueled adrenaline coursed through you and broke free from his grasp, shoving both hands against his chest. The impact made him take a step backward. “You son of a bitch,” you screamed. “You planned this, you fucking knew I’ve been trying to disassociate myself from all of this. How can you do this to me?”

You shoved him again, harder this time. Your palms stung and your throat burned, but you barely felt any of it. Mingi barely moved, and somehow, that just made you angrier. “You sick, manipulative bastard,” you cried, tears falling from your eyes but you didn’t care anymore. “You couldn’t just let me go, could you?”

Your hands trembled as you struck him over and over again, each blow fueled by months of fear, humiliation, anger, and helplessness finally finding somewhere to go. For once, you weren’t scared of what your anger might do. You were too furious to care. And throughout this, Mingi may have looked unbothered, but his eyes, they held a reverent satisfaction as though this - your rage, hatred, and defiance - was exactly what he’d been waiting to see.

When your fists fell limp against his chest, his arms came around you. The embrace was unbearably gentle compared to everything he’d done to you. “Relax,” he murmured, hand moving through your hair so soothing that it almost felt insulting. “It can’t be that bad to belong to me. I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you everything you need and protect you from now on.”

Mingi leaned back, thumb brushing beneath your eye to wipe away your tears. You stared at him, devastated by how easily he could turn captivity into something that sounded like security. “You don't get to call this protection,” you muttered bitterly. “I didn’t choose whatever the fuck this is.”

Something unreadable passed through his eyes. “Not everything good in your life has to begin with a choice,” he said. His words made your stomach twist. He released you to take a pen, put it in your hand along with the open folder. “Sign it, love. Don’t make this any harder for us both.”

You stared at the blank line for several seconds, wanting to fight him off, but you were exhausted. There was no point in escaping when the cage had no door. It took less than a second to sign your name, each stroke feeling like shackles tightening around your neck. When you finished, Mingi took one look at the signed paper before giving you a light kiss on your forehead. 

“You should get some rest. I reckon this took a lot out of you,” he spoke, leading your tired body to sit back on the couch, even going as far as to put a pillow behind your back. “I’ll order us food in a bit and then I’ll instruct people to get the rest of your stuff from your apartment. I want you completely moved in and settled within the week.” 

You looked away, not bothering to reply because you knew better. And so did he. As he was in the process of getting your luggage you completely forgot about, his phone rang. It was Hongjoong. “Go ahead,” Mingi coaxed. “You might want to hear what he has to say. You wanted to ensure your friends’ safety, yes?”

And with that thought in mind, you immediately answered. Hongjoong’s brows raised slightly, mouth parting in mild surprise when he saw your displeased face on the video. “Well, uh, this is a pleasant surprise,” he chuckled nervously. “I’m glad to see you, Y/N, I really am, but I need to speak to Mingi. Is he there, by any chance?”

“Cut the bullshit, Hongjoong. I know everything,” you deadpanned. In the corner of your eye, you saw Mingi smirk at your straightforwardness. “Put San and Jongho on the phone before I do something drastic, please. I need to see that they’re okay.”

And they were. In fact, they seemed to be doing a little too well. You couldn’t help but feel relief as you talked to San, who was no less than shocked at the turn of events while Jongho and Hongjoong were eating and laughing in the background like they’ve been longtime buddies. It was difficult to stay mad at Hongjoong seeing as he did at least try his best to remedy the lies he’s built up and gave your friends the safest place they could go after all of this.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I really am,” Hongjoong apologised with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair in defeat. “You didn’t deserve any of this. None of you did. After I settle things here, I’m going to try my best to see what I can do for you, alright? I’ll try to talk to Seonghwa about it.”

You scoffed bitterly. “What else is there left to do? I’m stuck here with Mingi after he made me sign that goddamn paper. And while I appreciate your apology, I’m here to ask about San’s situation. Best case scenario, I want him to be at least with Jongho, but if not, I just want to make sure he’ll be put in the safest place, at least.”

Hongjoong didn’t speak for a moment, blinking multiple times at you as if he was making sure he was hearing you correctly. His brows furrowed as genuine confusion flickered on his face.

“What do you mean?” He asked, a clear hesitation coating his voice. In the background, you saw Mingi pause at what he was doing. “And what do you mean Mingi made you sign something?”

The way he asked that last part made you narrow your eyes, your mind numbing out as your blood ran cold. You told him everything - from Mingi telling you that everybody was actually government agents, your role and why Mingi had to make you his translator, the dossier, the witness protection programme , all the way to San’s state of limbo. Hongjoong stared at you, and for a second, his composure faltered. It wasn’t the usual controlled concern you were used to seeing on him. “Mingi told you San was in limbo?” He asked, genuine shock on his face.

You nodded and his eyes widened, muttering a quiet curse under his breath that made your stomach swoop. “Y/N, I need you to listen to me carefully,” he said slowly, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. “He was in limbo, that much was true. But that’s why I’m here - to work it out. Mingi sent me here to clear San. As of now, he’s in the same programme as Jongho.”

You snapped your head towards Mingi. He paused from dragging your luggage in to stare back at you. He was smiling. It wasn’t that smug, triumphant smile he always wore. It was just a tiny, knowing curve. Horror spread through you as you realised something - that Mingi technically never lied. He did tell you San was in limbo and that he’d keep him safe. He just never said when and how. You had just assumed he’d do it after, not that he’s already done it beforehand.

Your eyes burned. At this point, you didn’t know if you were the dumb one for falling for his manipulation over and over again or if he’s that good. You turned back to Hongjoong in panic. “He used San against me,” you blurted out. You told him about you looking through the criminal target files and Mingi pretty much blackmailing you into signing it using the cameras.

This was actually what made Hongjoong reel back in horror. “Did you sign it?” He asked, sheer panic clouding his features. You were rendered speechless, not knowing what to say, but you nodded anyway. “Song Mingi, you made her sign a binding contract? You son of a bitch. I’m going to shoot you myself when I’m done here, I swear to God—”

“It’s not my fault that she keeps falling for it, Joong,” Mingi spoke nonchalantly, not even bothering to pause this time as he hauled your luggage into a random room, a gleam in his eyes. “And you make it sound so bad. I already said I’ll take good care of her and you know I meant it.”

As if things weren’t bad enough already, Hongjoong dropped another bombshell, looking so helpless you almost felt bad for him. “And about those cameras,” he winced, clearly wanting to be anywhere but be the bearer of bad news. “They’re broken. I called to tell Mingi that I had the replacement units. I was about to drop by after I was done here.”

You closed your eyes, a long sigh heaving out from your lungs. It really was the gift that keeps on giving. “Word of advice, Y/N?” Hongjoong quietly spoke. “A leopard can’t change its spots. Even if you manage to beat him and make him leave, he’ll be back with a stick next time. Beat him with a stick he’ll be back with a gun and if you beat him with a gun you better make sure he’s dead because Mingi won’t stop. May we never go to hell, but always be on our way. Good luck.”

You sank back into the couch, staring at nothing. Mingi didn’t need to blackmail you anything - he simply needed to make you believe he would. You had done the rest yourself. You had let your emotions get the best of you and Mingi used this to his advantage. The realisation hollowed you out because how could you be so stupid?

Your eyes stung, but you didn’t cry. You couldn’t. There wasn’t much left in you anymore because you let Mingi lock the door you willingly went into. You crossed your arms petulantly, glaring daggers at Mingi because at this point, there was nothing else left to do. It was over. 

Mingi, unfortunately, seemed extremely delighted, looking too entirely pleased with himself. “For what it’s worth, you took it very well, love. You looked very convincing when you signed.”

Your glare intensified, rolling your eyes and sinking further into the couch, not willing to even talk to him anymore. You let your eyes do the talking - that if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t even be in this situation. You set your eyes on the folder that had your signature, hoping that it would burn to ashes. with how hard you were glaring at it.

“What?” He asked innocently, a glimmer of mischief behind those eyes. “You never asked.”

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You don’t stop stabbing Gyo, your hands driving that blade into his chest again and again, even when his heart has clearly already stopped. Even as the blood splatters, coating you completely, and choking you with it. You refuse to stop, running purely on adrenaline and the need to keep yourself safe.

It isn’t until a pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you off of Gyo and into a chest that you finally stop. Through the daze of your fear, you scream at the grasp, trying to fight your way out of it, moving to stab whoever had grabbed you. However, before you can, another hand grabs your wrist, stopping you.

“Y/N! Y/N! Stop, baby, stop!”

You finally do as you register the voice, recognizing the voice to be Hongjoong. It’s then you realize he’s the one crouched in front of you, hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from hurting anyone. Panting, heart beating madly against your chest, you realize that the man holding you is Seonghwa, his arms still wrapped protectively around your waist.

With parted lips and wide eyes, you glance around, taking in the sight of the whole pack. Wooyoung and Yeosang have crouched down, with Seonghwa and Hongjoong, eyes flickering across your entire body for any injuries. They’re holding guns, and it’s then you realize that Hongjoong and Seonghwa have tossed theirs aside in favour of you. Yunho is standing closer to the dining room, taking in the bodies on the dining table, gun in hand. Mingi, Jongho and San are close by too, guns held out.

It’s instant, instinctual, the way your body collapses. All your strength leaves you in seconds flat at the sight of your pack with you, surrounding you, too out of it to even process the fact that you’re referring to them as your pack. You slump against Seonghwa’s chest, finally letting go of the knife as it clatters to the ground. You barely even process that you’re covered in blood or that you’re completely nude from the waist up.

Instead, as your eyes well with tears and the reality of what had just happened finally catches up to you, sobs break past your lips beyond your control.

The boys react instantly. Seonghwa pulls you closer, cooing at you softly as Hongjoong’s grasp loosens around your wrist, instead shifting to hold your hand and press a series of kisses along your knuckles. Wooyoung is pulling off his suit jacket, working with Seonghwa to help wrap it around you as Yeosang tries to wipe some of the blood off your face. The other four lean in closer too, all reassuring you you’re safe and okay and nothing can hurt you anymore.

“We gotta get these cuffs off of her,” Yeosang says distantly, barely registering it as you sink into the comfort that Seonghwa provides.

There’s more shuffling, soft mumbles, none of which you bother paying attention to, until you feel hands tentatively wrap around your wrists, replacing Hongjoong’s hand temporarily. “Here,” Yunho whispers, voice low, before you hear two consecutive clicks and feel the metal fall away from your wrists. Yunho grabs the cuffs, tossing them aside without another thought, and watches as your hands move towards Seonghwa.

Shaking your head, you clutch onto Seonghwa, nails digging welts through the sleeves of his jacket. “He… He tried to…”

“Shh, baby.” Hongjoong coos, reaching your hand again and squeezing it tightly as all eight of them lean in closer, fulling surrounding you. “I know, pretty girl, I know. We’re so sorry.”

“So sorry,” Yunho agrees, his hand brushing against your cheek. “You did so well. You were so brave.”

Jongho hums out in agreement, tucking Wooyoung’s jacket tighter around you. “You must’ve been so scared.”

Letting out a choked sob, you tuck your head into the crook of Seonghwa’s neck, needing his scent, any of their scents, close. 

“You… You left me,” you cry, delirious and out of it. “You left me with him.”

“We know, sweetheart,” San breathes, his tone thick with guilt and regret. “We know, we’re so sorry.”

“We’ll never leave you alone again, baby,” Mingi promises then, pressing a hand into your back. “Never.”

“Mingi’s right, princess,” Wooyoung says, holding your other hand and threading his fingers through your own. “Someone will always be with you, someone will always be here to keep you safe. You’ll never have to be scared like that again.”

You just press yourself further into Seonghwa’s neck, breathing in his scent.

“Never,” Yeosang whispers, his voice so vehemently serious it pierces your soul.

Seonghwa shifts beneath you, raising his head and meeting Hongjoong’s gaze. The head alpha nods, and he leans closer, letting go of your hand to instead cup your cheeks, pulling your gaze on him. You whine out in response, not wanting to leave the safety of Seonghwa, but the second you seem to realize it’s Hongjoong, you ease.

“Pretty girl,” he calls, lips curling into a soft, warm smile. “We need to wash the blood off of you.”

You don’t want to, don’t want any of them to leave your side, or you think your heart might burst. But, somewhere in the back of your head, you know Hongjoong is right. Through the daze of your mind and the subspace you’ve slipped into, even you know that you need to be cleaned up, given that the blood is starting to dry and stick to your skin.

“Wooyoung and Yeosang will help you, okay?” Seonghwa says from behind you, his chest rumbling with his words behind your back. “We don’t want you to be alone.”

You nod, not having the strength to really say anything.

Hongjoong nods at Seonghwa and then, in tandem and in complete sync, Seonghwa shifts you into Wooyoung’s arms, allowing him to pull you into his chest. Yeosang helps steady you as Wooyoung stands, wrapping your legs around his waist as Yeosang adjusts your head so you can breathe in Wooyoung’s scent.

“Be careful with her,” San breathes, eyes never leaving your form.

Wooyoung nods; “of course.”

“What about the bodies?” Mingi asks then, shaking his head. “I don’t want her coming back to see any of this.”

“We’ll clean it,” Jongho says, as if the answer is obvious. 

“Jjongie’s right,” Yunho nods, watching the way you tuck your head into Wooyoung’s neck and biting his lip at the sight. “We’ll make sure it’s clean by the time you two are finished.”

Yeosang hums out in response and then, the two are turning, making their way to the bedroom. Wooyoung is careful not to jostle you too much, letting Yeosang take the lead until the three of them are in your bathroom. They figured the familiarity of the room might help keep you calm.

Wooyoung sets you on the counter, still close, hands on your hips as Yeosang turns to fill up the bathtub.

“I’m gonna take off your clothes, okay, princess?” Wooyoung whispers to you, leaning down to meet your gaze properly. “Is that okay?”

You nod, pliant in his grasp as he slips off his jacket from around your shoulders. He tosses it to the side without much thought, trying to respect your privacy and not blatantly stare at you. Even if they’d all seen you naked before, that was the last thing you needed right now. He’s particular in not staring at the burn scars that cover your entire front, forcing himself not to let his scent sour at that sight and the guilt that floods him.

All that would do is upset you more.

And so, he moves to pull your skirt off, following with your panties shortly after. You don’t fight him once, and Wooyoung is careful as he moves you around, not wanting to accidentally hurt you.

Just as he finishes pulling off your panties, Yeosang turns to him. “It’s ready.”

“Not too hot, right?” Wooyoung asks.

“Of course,” Yeosang nods, moving to help him grab you. You mewl softly as they pull you off the counter, clutching onto Wooyoung tightly as they carry you the short distance over to the tub. 

As Wooyoung bends to lower you into the tub, you clutch onto him tighter, letting out a whimper of fear.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Yeosang quickly reassures, brushing his hand across your cheek to try and soothe you. “We’re not leaving you, we just need to get you in the water. Remember? We need to wash the blood off of you.”

Slowly, your grasp eases, allowing Wooyoung to set you into the tub. The water feels nice against your skin, not too cold but not too hot either, and it soothes the aches in your body. However, as your leg dips into the water, the leg that Gyo had shot, a hiss leaves your lips, jerking in their grasp as you cry out in pain.

“Baby?” Yeosang calls, confused. “What? What’s wrong?”

Face twisting in pain, you cry out; “leg.”

Wooyoung doesn’t hesitate, eyes flickering to your leg to try and see what’s wrong. And then, when he does, his heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

“That bastard shot her,” he growls, anger flooding him as he takes in the wound. It looks like it just grazed the side of your calf, the bullet not lodging itself in you but shredding your skin along the side instead. In the midst of all the blood that had covered you and your skirt, none of them had seen it.

And you’d been too out of it to say anything.

“What?” Yeosang asks, voice pitched in anger as he shifts to see what Wooyoung has. The minute his eyes take in the wound, his scent is souring with barely concealed anger. “I’m going to kill those fuckers.”

Wooyoung’s lips part to reply, to agree, but then you’re letting out a whimper, pulling both alpha’s gazes back on you. Yeosang glances at Wooyoung, frowning and the latter sighs. “Later,” he tells Yeosang, but turning back to you. “Princess, we know it hurts but we have to clean the wound, okay? After that, we’ll get Seonghwa to bandage it. Make it feel all better, yeah?”

Face twisting, you shake your head; “it stings.”

“I know, baby,” Yeosang nods, voice sympathetic as he grabs your hand. “But we have to clean you.”

Eventually, you nod, allowing them to gently scrub the blood off of your body. Both alphas are careful not to irritate your skin, extra gentle when cleaning around your burn scars and when Wooyoung moves to clean your wound, he’s even more careful, desperate to be as quick as possible as you let out whimpers of pain in response. Yeosang holds your hand the entire way through, whispering soft reassurances to you until finally Wooyoung is finished.

It takes them about an hour. Their actions methodic and done with care, until they’re pulling you out of the tub and carefully drying you off. Yeosang sends Wooyoung to get some clothes for you, and the alpha doesn’t hesitate to bring back a pair of his own sweatpants and one of San’s shirts he’d found in his room.

He’s hoping the scents of them will help ease you.

He’s relieved when it seems to work, your face finally relaxing as the scents of them hits you.

“Let’s get her back to the others,” Yeosang suggests, moving to grab you.

As promised, the dining room is clean and no trace of what had happened is left. Instead, all that resides there is the six other alpha’s who all sit at the dining table, varying degrees of restless. Everyone’s attention, however, snaps in the direction of you, Wooyoung and Yeosang the second they hear you approaching, moving to their feet to rush over to you.

“How is she?” Hongjoong asks, reaching out for you.

Wooyoung frowns, shaking his head. “The bastard shot her.”

“What?” San says, eyes widening in panic.

“Just a graze,” Yeosang assures, setting his hand on San’s arm. “Still, hyung, you should take a look at it.”

Seonghwa nods, gesturing to Wooyoung to bring you over to the table. He doesn’t hesitate to listen, setting you down in one of the chairs as Seonghwa crouches in front of you. He sends you a warm smile before grabbing your leg carefully by the ankle, rolling up Wooyoung’s sweatpants to take a look at the wound.

“Yunho, can you grab me my first aid kit please?”

The alpha doesn’t hesitate to listen, rushing out of the room to grab it and returning within seconds flat. Seonghwa smiles at him as he takes it from his hands, and then, he’s bandaging your wound with a care only an alpha like him could give to you, his omega.

When he’s finished, he rests his hand on your knee and squeezes it. “No walking for you for a while, huh, baby?”

You just nod, humming softly.

The response makes Seonghwa’s gentle smile falter, glancing back at the rest of his pack.

“It’s late,” Hongjoong concedes, sighing. “Maybe we should let Y/N retire—”

“No!” You cry out, suddenly and taking all of them by surprise. Hongjoong turns to you, lips left parted and eyes wide as you turn back to him with desperate, pleading eyes. “No, please don’t send me to my room. I… I don’t want to be alone.”

There’s a moment of dead silence, the rest of the pack glancing around at each other in surprise. Although you’d been clingy and pliant with them since they found you, they weren’t expecting this. This was a step, this was a sign of trust they didn’t know if they’d ever get from you.

And they couldn’t waste it.

You, however, grow uncomfortable as the silence stretches on, making you feel as if your plea for them has upset them. If you were in sound mind, you know that wouldn’t be the case. All these eight men have wanted from you for the past week is to give in to them, but after everything you’d endured tonight, that logic doesn’t exist.

Not anymore.

So, your omega cries, shrinking away in shame and fear of rejection and you find yourself cowering further into yourself as that fear takes over.

But then, Seonghwa is squeezing your knee again, pulling your eyes on him as he smiles warmly up at you. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” he whispers, soft and gentle. “We won’t make you go to your room.”

And with him comes the others. San is rushing forward, taking your hand into his own and squeezing; “not if you don’t want to.”

“Let’s sleep in the living room,” Jongho suggests then, smiling gently at you, eyes twinkling with happiness. “Like we used to.”

“Yes,” Mingi breathes. “Yes.”

The boys all seem giddy about it, and truthfully, it’s a rather adorable sight. Seonghwa is smiling so warmly at you, San squeezing your hand with a deliberate care, Jongho stands before you with a bounce in his step, as if he can’t wait to just be there already. Wooyoung is grinning too, turning to Yunho who meets his smile with one of his own, fond and gentle. Yeosang is sending Mingi a teasing grin at the breathless desperation he’d displayed, but there’s excitement in his gaze and Mingi doesn’t seem to care either way.

Then, your gaze drifts to Hongjoong.

“Alpha,” you call, voice despondent and filled with yearning. “Could we?”

You’re not sure why you ask. The you from just that morning wouldn’t have even been asking for this, or, at least, you wouldn’t have let yourself ask for it. Yet, after everything that happened, how terrified you’d been, you didn’t care anymore. Subspace or not, all you wanted, all you needed was them. You couldn’t lie to yourself any longer, not anymore, not when they had shown you tonight just how much you truly meant to them.

And going through that, suffering through that terror, had only shown you how much you needed them.

Which means that you can’t ignore the tremble of your omega, terrified of that rejection still, thinking maybe Hongjoong won’t let you because of how disagreeable you’ve been, how bad you’ve been. How you treated him after the two of you marked each other, how you’ve treated everyone.

Only, when you turn to look at Hongjoong, he doesn’t look angry, doesn’t look disappointed, no—no, all that you see on his face is the softest smile you’ve yet to see on him. His lips curl upwards, eyes crinkling at the corners, as he lets his fingers brush against your cheek.

“Of course, pretty girl,” he whispers, voice a gentle, low husk. “You want to make a nest for us? For your alphas?”

His words alight something in you, your omega jumping with joy at the suggestion as, for the first time since they found you, your lips curl into the brightest smile they so desperately missed seeing on your lips.

“Yes,” you breathe, heavy and thick with want. “Yes, please.”

The alpha’s don’t waste anymore time after that. Pulling you into his arms, Jongho helps carry you over to the living room, refusing to let you take even one step with your injury. You try to insist you’re okay, feeling bad making them carry you, but the second your lips part to argue, you’re fixed with a stern look and all argument slips from your mind. Instead, you let him grab you, falling into his arms with ease and taking in his scent of dark chocolate and coffee, as the rest of the pack quickly runs off to grab some clothes, blankets and pillows for you.

The second the two of you are in the living room, Jongho helps steady you on your feet, letting you hold onto him. “Make it however you want, sweetheart,” he tells you kindly when he sees the slight hesitation on your face. “If you want me to grab something or move anything, just let me know.”

And so, with one final look his way, you nod, getting started. You’d had a small nest back in your apartment, something that seems so far away and forgotten now, in the closet of your bedroom because Chul-soo hadn’t liked it taking up too much room. And you know, somewhere in the back of your mind, lost and blurry, that you had made a nest in this room before. 

You focus on letting your instincts take over. This was more room and more material than you’d ever remember having before, and you don’t want to waste the opportunity. The second you start moving, it seems to just wash over you, body moving on its own without much thought as you make the living room into your own personal nest. Your movements only turn more frantic and desperate when the others return, one by one, with various nesting materials. These ones smell stronger, more entrenched with their scent, and it has you purring out in pleasure, barely even aware of yourself.

It takes you between fifteen to twenty minutes, and the entire time you remain sitting on the ground, shifting around to be careful of your leg, your eight alphas stand just outside the edge of your nest, watching you. None of them can look away, completely entranced by the sight of their omega finally building a nest in their home again, for them.

When you finish, you turn to them, doe-eyed and nervous.

Yunho crouches down from where he’s standing, still on the edge of your nest, and smiles; “it’s so pretty, baby. Such a pretty nest.”

A purr rumbles from your chest, leaning closer. “Thank you,” you breathe, voice low, needy.

Mingi leans forward, resting a hand on Yunho’s shoulder as he also lowers himself to meet your gaze properly. “Can we come in, princess?” He asks, looking as if he wants nothing more. “Hm? Can your alphas come into your pretty nest?”

You nod, not able to find your voice, hands braced in front of yourself, inhaling sharply the second Seonghwa takes the first step in. With him, the rest easily follow, stepping into your nest, and moving so they’re all sat around you, surrounding you like a protective circle, continuing to coo at you as you purr in response.

And when Hongjoong steps in, the last to, you move towards him, wanting to be in his arms. He doesn’t hesitate to oblige, pulling you against his chest as he lets out his scent to help soothe you. He glances up, nodding at the rest, and then they move forward as well, moving to cuddle you. Wooyoung curls into your back, half around you and half around Hongjoong, while Yunho pulls your feet into his lap. Mingi has an arm thrown around your waist, and Jongho’s hand presses steadily into your back, warm and reassuring. Yeosang has his palm splayed across your stomach, feeling the soft purrs you continue to let out, while Seonghwa runs his fingers through your hair.

“Just rest, sweetheart,” San whispers then, pressing a kiss to your forehead, meeting your eyes with a smile. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Your eyes flutter with the reassurance of his words, falling limp in their grasp and touches, as the world fades away.

In the center of the village, there was a well and the elders stood there. One raised his arms and welcomed you all as honoured guests.

“We don’t have much,” he said honestly, “but what we have we share with you.”

You felt the gratitude in your chest, alongside an overwhelming feeling of inadequacy. How could you not when these people were sacrificing a meal, a bed, just for you? You had been like them, you thought, not that long ago, lining the streets when the first officer crossed into your village.

“Our local inn has prepared beds for you all and a hot meal,” the elder directed attention to a smaller man.

The man was bowing, murmuring something about how it was his honour. “My daughter,” he said, gesturing to a figure beside him, “she did all the cooking in preparation. A fantastic wife she’ll make one day.”

The petite slip of a girl bowed low and then smiled sweetly at Seungcheol. “It was my honour to cook for those fighting for our country.”

The smile on your face faltered.

You didn’t know why you felt so uncomfortable but you knew something was churning in your stomach. Something wild and uncontrolled. Something that made you want to slide close to Seungcheol’s side and bare your teeth.

It perplexed you in a way that you didn’t want to address. Why would you feel envy over a village girl trying to find a husband? That her father wanted to play match maker? A soldier, a captain even, would be a high prize.

Somehow that made the feeling worse.

You tensed at the arm sliding across your shoulder and tore your gaze away from the innkeeper’s daughter to meet the amused stare of Jeonghan. The second in command had always been pretty, you’d noticed that straight away, and you’d think after all these months you’d be immune to his charms. Clearly not, judging by the way your breath caught.

“Don’t look so put out, Hyunjin-sshi,” he teased. “We only have eyes for one woman in this unit.”

-

You end up in a room with Seungkwan, Vernon and Dino, each bed assigned by age. Your trope filled the local inn and then some and, you had pointed out, it would be strange for you to have a room by yourself when your commanding officer didn’t.

Still, it led you here, all of you staring down at the floor bed. You suspected that a few villagers would go without a comfortable sleep tonight to allow you imperial soldiers to have one.

Vernon dropped his bag on the creaking floor. “You take the bed,” he said quietly, “we’ll take the floor.”

You expected as such and refused. “You guys take the bed,” you insisted.

Chan looked aghast. “We can’t let a lady,” his eyes danced towards the door, like someone could be listening in, “rest on the floor.”

“Well, I’m not sleeping in that bed by myself,” you argued back. You could feel your irritation rising and caught it, took a deep breath. When you spoke again, your voice was softer, “We’ve been sleeping on the ground for months now. Everyone should have the chance to enjoy a bed for once.”

Vernon looked wide eyed. Chan had turned red. Seungkwan looked at you with soft eyes and an amused twist to his lips.

“Do you usually get what you want?” he asked, teasing and knowing.

“Most of the time,” you admitted, “it comes with being the only child.”

Seungkwan sighed fondly. “Pick a side of the bed.”

You perked up excitedly. Chan hissed ‘hyung’ under his breath. Vernon froze for a moment, shrugged and then bent to undo the laces on his boots.

-

Beside you, the youngest soldier was tense. It was like he was standing for inspection on his back. When you breathed, his fingers brushed your skin and he snapped them away like you’d burnt him.

On the other side, Vernon flicked his forehead. “Relax man,” he said, voice deeper with exhaustion, “It’s like you’ve never laid with a woman before.”

“I just, I didn’t,” Chan stumbled over his words and you were stuck with the realisation that maybe he hadn’t.

It really shouldn’t have made you feel so warm, made your heart thud pointedly in your chest like it was trying to tell you something. You pursed your lips to not smile so widely.

“Channie,” you murmured and felt delighted at how he jerked, eyes wide as they turned to look at you. You couldn’t tell with just moonlight but you were certain he was bright red. “Am I the first?”

He gapped but didn’t answer, words caught tight in his throat.

“It’s okay,” you cooed, “I’m honoured Channie.”

“Please stop talking,” Chan begged. 

Seungkwan grumbled into his pillow, “If you pop a boner in bed with us, I’m getting Mingyu to send you on a herb hunt.”

“I won’t get a boner, oh my god,” Chan’s voice yelped, loud, panicked and only shushed by your hand over his mouth.

“It’s okay if you do,” you promised, “I won’t tell Kwannie.”

“Why are you like this?” Chan whined, voice muffled by your hand.

You shrugged and answered honestly. “You look cute when you blush.”

You felt the sharp intake of air against the palm of your hand and the way Chan stilled, eyes wide as they looked at you. Maybe you were lucky that it was dark enough that no one could see your cheeks burning as well.

You slid your hand away, back under the covers to be held against your pounding chest. Chan was still looking at you, his breathing deep.

“I just...want you to sleep well, okay?” you whispered, “Don’t be so stiff.”

Vernon snorted. “Not sure he can help it.”

Chan slapped him in the stomach in retaliation.

When you woke up, it was warm. You felt hot breath against your hair, pulled loose from the ponytail when you slept, and a heavy weight around your waist. You shifted, tugging at the muscles that ached, and the hold tightened, tugged you closer. Your stomach lurched and you stopped breathing for a second as you looked up.

In his sleep, you thought, Chan looked so much younger than he was. It was like the years of a harder life than you could ever have imagined and the months of sleeping rough, of life threatening battles, faded away to leave behind just a normal farmer’s son.

Like this, you could imagine him toiling in the fields to help his parents, selling the family crop at the village market. You could see him with a wife at his side - a pretty thing from a modest family - with children running under foot. You could imagine how he’d smile at them, bright at his wonderful family.

Lee Chan wasn’t from the type of family that your parents would have wanted you to marry and yet you could have done so happily.

You should pull out his grip, you thought. He’d be embarrassed when he joins the waking world, you knew, and would spend the rest of the day apologising for being so improper.

But you didn’t want to. Being held against his chest, under his strong arms, was exactly where you wanted to be. You swallowed nervously.

A hand touched the top of your head and made you jerk in surprise. It wasn’t enough to dislodge Chan, who murmured something and dipped his head, lower so it almost rested on your chin.

Vernon twirled a lock of your hair around his finger and smiled fondly. “Captain says we’ve got to leave by midday. Long enough for breakfast and to give respect to the village elders for allowing us to stay.”

“Okay,” you croaked. You glanced at Chan again and flicked your tongue across your bottom lip uncertainly, “Should we wake him?”

“Probably,” Vernon agreed, “But in a bit. It’s the most he’s slept in a while. Besides,” he added, “you two look cute together like this.”

You felt warm at the compliment, the honesty behind them. If you sunk further into Chan’s firm hold, that was your own business. Then a thought hit you, “Vernon,” you hissed, “you better not tell anyone about this.”

The officer put his hand to his chest. “I would never,” he promised, “but that doesn’t mean that Seungkwan hasn’t already.”

-

The thing with Soonyoung was that you couldn’t read him. During onboarding, he was quiet, stern, a true drill sergeant even compared to Seungcheol. You thought he hated you for the first six weeks, only talking to you to bark orders or give harsh corrections.

As time went on, the mask slipped. He smiled more, joked with new and old recruits. He liked to make people laugh, you realised, and often was one of those who helped keep the morale up across the camp site. It could be a lot, push at people’s nerves, but on dark nights, the sound of gutted bodies and the stench of death in their noses, it was something sorely needed.

He’d seemed the most upset about your birth gender. He hadn’t said anything, but you could tell how he held himself. Before, he would have teased you like the others, lewd jokes and physical jabs building a friendship. Sometimes, he was still like that and you treasured those moments when the old Kwon Soonyoung seemed to slip through.

The unit had come across a running river, a clear space to bathe and refill water canisters. You had always tried to go first, a step away from the others as bathing was the only time you’d been free to take your binding off. There had been times though, where the unit had stumbled in after you, dragging dirtied clothes off their tired bodies, and you’d had to duck low in the water and raise your gaze to the heavens.

You supposed the thought hadn’t occurred to them all until Seungcheol was organising the time for each to clean up.

“Oh shit,” Soonyoung stood short, drawing attention to himself as he put his head in his hands, “my mum’s going to kill me.”

You blinked, confused and tense. “What are you talking about?”

The forlorn expression on his pretty face was almost comical. “You’ve seen my dick. That’s supposed to be for my wife.”

Seungkwan choked on air, a blush creeping up the back of his neck.

“You’re the one who stood on the rock!” you hissed out.

“I thought you were a man,” Soonyoung argued back.

Wonwoo rolled his head back to look at the sky. “At this point, hasn’t Hyunjin seen all of our... ya know...” he gestured vaguely.

Seokmin looked aghast. “Did you look?” he accused.

You felt like you might explode from embarrassment before the Hun could get to you. “I tried not to,” you insisted, “but sometimes, dicks like -” you waved your hand.

Minghao rubbed his hands together in prayer. “Please never do that again.”

“Can we stop talking about our dicks now?” Chan begged.

“Jin, honest perspective, which one is,” Jeonghan started and laughed happily when you made a noise of objection.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” you made a cross with your arms. “Keep me out of your dick measuring contests.”

“At least now we know why Jinnie never joined in,” Vernon mused and then grinned boyishly when you kicked his shin with a squawk.

“It’s not the size that matters, it’s what you can do with it, isn’t that right Jinnie?” Joshua winked.

You wished you had something to throw at him. “Don’t ask me that!”

Jeonghan made some joke about needing a guard - “to protect your innocence,” he’d said - and Mingyu had sat up straighter, like a puppy eager to please. Seungcheol had frowned deeply at the suggestion and Jun had gone completely red.

As you soaked in the cool water, you couldn’t help the feeling of delight that filled you because Soonyoung had spoken to you like he always did.

Then there were other moments.

“No.” The word was sharp enough to cut.

You wanted to bow down, to cower away but exhaustion and inaction had given way to frustration and you bit back, “why not?”

Soonyoung’s eyebrow arched, surprised, mocking. “Because I said so.”

You clenched your teeth so hard your jaw clicked. “I’m going to need a better reason than that, sir.”

Around you, eyes were staring. Wide, nervous, unsure of how to proceed. Honestly, what could you do when someone was arguing against your superior officer’s order? 

It had been a simple request to be honest. Chan was on his way out of camp, bow slung over his back to shoot down any deer or rabbit or pigeon he came across, with Wonwoo at his side, sword shining and ready to fight off any approaching enemy.

You’d perked up at the sight of them. It was something you had missed, the times that you could step out of the camp to hunt with the others. Chan was the best at it, never missed his mark and you’d eagerly learnt from him. You’d never killed an animal for food before, or gutted it for its best parts.

You’d approached the leaders and asked for permission to go. Soonyoung was fast in his refusal.

“A lady does not need to worry herself about hunting,” he said firmly.

Beside him, Jihoon murmured his friend’s name quietly, in warning. Seungcheol sat quietly, conversation with Jeonghan interrupted. They all watched you with careful eyes.

The word lady caught a fire to burn through you. “This lady does. Let me go.”

Soonyoung scoffed. “And if you get skewered by a buck? Are we expecting Chan and Wonwoo to drag your body back to camp?”

“Have I ever been hurt on a food hunt?” you demanded. “If I do, they can leave me to the vultures.”

Soonyoung winced and went red in the cheeks. “You’re not going, so you’re not going to get hurt,” he snapped.

“And if I disregard your orders, sir?”

“Jin,” Seungcheol’s voice was sharp, “that’s treasonous.”

You laughed bitterly. “As is everything else,” you pointed out. “You trained me, I’ve been on hundreds of food runs since we began this march. Do you truly think so little of my gender that you think of me as incapable?”

If you were calmer, less blinded in rage, you might have seen the way that Soonyoung reacted - as if you had laid upon him a physical blow. His frustration melted just for a moment, mixing with hurt, before it was gone, covered by the mask of a General.

“Do whatever you want,” he bit out, the words vicious and scalding.

No, you didn’t want to do whatever you wanted. You wanted him to trust you.

You turned your gaze pointedly away to look at your captain. “Do I have your permission?”

Seungcheol stared at you as if he were reading your mind. He did that a lot nowadays, you thought. Eventually, he said, “You have it.” His eyes slid to Chan and Wonwoo, “Don’t leave her to the vultures.”

Soonyoung didn’t say anything more, but walked past you at such a speed, you felt the wind slap you. Somehow, it was enough to snap the rage from you, leaving only tiredness and the distinct urge to cry.

-

“Does he hate me?” you asked aloud. 

It had been tens into the walk away from camp but not quite to the distance they’d need to be for the animals avoiding the humans deep in the forest. Chan always started a hunt a good twenty minutes from camp, just to make sure that they wouldn’t waste any arrows. You stared at the muscles shifting in his back as he walked. Behind you, Wonwoo kept pace, silent and alert.

He answered first. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“It feels like it.”

Chan asked quietly, “is that why you fought him so hard on this?”

“No.”

“Then what was the harm in just staying behind?”

“Because when I was just Hyunjin I wouldn’t have stayed behind,” you said, your words becoming bitter and irritable. “And if I’d spoken like that to him before, General Kwon would have had me doing squats all night. But now, I’m -” you stumbled over your name, “-it’s like, he thinks I’m incapable. You all do.”

“We don’t,” Chan corrected you.

Your smile felt tight. “Thank you for saying but it’s not true,” you sighed, “I don’t train, I don’t carry the tents, I can’t help with hunting. It’s like you all want me to sit and be pretty. Thank you for protecting me, brave soldier.” you made your voice high pitched to mock.

Wonwoo tapped the back of your leg with the flat edge of his sword. “Do you really not get it?” he murmured, “It’s not that you’re not capable of those things. We know you are. You’ve shown us again and again.”

“Then why-” 

Wonwoo cut you off. “You might have unlearned the expectations of your class and gender, but we haven’t. We might not all come from noble families but us peasants had social expectations too.”

Chan’s voice was almost shy as he said, “We do respect you as a soldier. We’re trying to respect you as a woman too.”

You let the words sink in, settle through the flared anger and bitterness at being seen as less than. You always had been, if you thought about it. It didn’t matter that your mother had trained you since a child to run a house, to track the accounts, to understand every inch and corner of the home and all those that were in it. It didn’t matter that your father read you stories of the great histories, that you could recite them back to front if asked, and that you could beat him at Go a lot of time. None of that mattered because your family only had a daughter, no one to carry on a family name and that was something almost shameful.

You didn’t play into social constructs during a childhood game and suddenly, your legacy was one of being dim and ditsy. You would admit, you’d played it up a few times, just to be left alone by the prying aunties in your village.

When Soonyoung had refused you, it felt like you were back there for a moment, begging for the officer to reconsider your father’s conscription and being knocked aside for daring to speak to him. It felt like you were standing next to your mother while she berated you, fear in her eyes, that you even dared to voice yourself so brazenly.

It was easy to think of all that you had shaken off, but you hadn’t thought about it from the other side. The boys who stared wide eyed at you and didn’t know how to respond. The boys who, no doubt, were being given the same descriptions of the balance of responsibilities and how a gentleman was supposed to act.

You wondered if when Soonyoung saw you, even dressed as Hyunjin, he could hear the voice of a teacher telling him that it was his duty to protect those more vulnerable than him.

“Soonyoung...I think he worries too much about you,” Wonwoo mused out loud. “He just doesn’t know how to show it.”

“He should get better,” you replied but your voice was weak. Maybe you both should handle this better.

-

Soonyoung had been in his tent since you left. His anger had faded away pretty quickly and now, there was only shame and embarrassment. Fuck, did he really argue with you in front of the camp? Did he really let you argue with him?

That had never really happened before. He was a General - he gave orders and his subordinates followed them, or the consequences would be dire. He should have had you on latrine duty for how you spoke to him, how you’d fought against his command, but the threat had died at the back of his throat, unable to release.

You’d looked enraged. Eyebrows furrowed, teeth clenched together, nose scrunched up in a way that would have been cute if it weren’t for the fire in your eyes. The scary thing was that, seeing you like that, didn’t make him angry like it would another soldier. 

No, it made him scared. 

Scared of how you pushed.

Scared of how he let you.

Scared of you going out there and getting hurt.

Soonyoung would let you scream at him a million times if it kept you safe.

But he’d given in, made some dismissive comment and left. He knew you’d gone with Chan and Wonwoo, and felt that distance like an alarm at the back of his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t think they couldn’t protect you or that you couldn’t protect yourself.

He might be stubborn but he wasn’t stupid.

Maybe Jihoon was right, Soonyoung mused. Because the thought of you somewhere outside of camp, where they - where he - couldn’t see the threats you might encounter, made him feel like he was going to jump out of his skin.

“Fuck,” he cursed, pushing his face into his hands.

When the hunting team returned, it was announced with a shout and a whistle. The usual routine for returning members to the camp site. It got louder when they crossed the threshold into the camp. Soonyoung strained his ears to hear Seokmin’s surprised exclaim about the size of the deer hooked over Wonwoo’s back and the grumbled murmur of the major himself when Joshua pretended to swoon at how strong he was. He could pick your voice out, a higher lilt above the baritone of the others, but not what you said. It was enough to make his heart leap nervously though.

Soonyoung made the decision then that he’d stay in the tent, away from the others - away from you - just a little bit longer. Maybe it was cowardly but he wasn’t sure if he could cope getting into another bitter argument with you. Not today.

Though, you didn’t really give him an option.

A shadow stretched along the front of the tent and Jeonghan’s voice called through. “You decent Soonie?”

He rolled his back muscles and sighed. “Yeah.”

A pause and then you pushed through the tent flaps, expression set in the same way it had been before you left. Soonyoung scrambled to his feet, a yelp of surprise caught in his throat when you dropped hard onto the ground, head bowed low enough that your forehead was pressed to the dirt.

The yell to ‘get out’ turned into a sharp inhale and squeak. “W-what...what are you...”

He knew what it was, the posturing of yourself beneath him. He’d had soldiers in his command do this before but right now, it felt...wrong. Uncomfortable, he thought, just not quite right. 

“I am here to apologise for my disrespect, General Kwon, sir,” you announced, “I dishonoured you greatly, sir. I will accept any punishment you seek to give me, sir.”

Soonyoung felt frozen in place. His heart thudding in his ears, it was hard to concentrate or anything other than the back of your neck, revealed from how you had your hair tied into a tight, regiment approved bun. There was something flustering about seeing the bare skin there, flushed pink from exertion or anger, baby hair curling into your nape.

“Please, stand up,” he murmured.

You made a noise of refusal. “Not without punishment, sir.”

Soonyoung’s laugh was bordering on hysterical. “Do you want to be punished?”

“I deserve to be punished,” you emphasised. You were quiet for a moment. “I...I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, not as my commanding officer.”

“I’m technically not your commanding officer,” he said, “not anymore.”

Could you even be part of the army when you entered on false pretenses?

“Oh.” The sound that left you was so small that Soonyoung felt like he wanted to throw up, horrified that he’d been the one to bring it out of you. 

“Stand up,” he repeated.

You followed his instruction this time and then stood to attention, hands at your back, legs set apart.

“At ease,” he murmured. “I accept your apology. I should...apologise too.”

You shook your head. “As a General, I should have listened to your order. Please punish me as you see fit.”

Soonyoung sighed. “I’m not going to punish you.”

“Why not? Because I am a woman?” you snapped.

Irritation burned through the fog of his brain, the accusation cutting deep, and it seeped into his words when he demanded, “what do you want from me Lady Jin?”

Your eyes flashed. “I want you to treat me like you treated Hyunjin,” you insisted. “I don’t want you to treat me differently.”

Soonyoung’s hand trembled at his side. “How can I not?” he breathed, honest with himself and you, “because now when I look at you, I don’t see some eldest son. I see...you.”

The word sat heavy between them, holding every word he didn’t know how to say to your face. He could still see Hyunjin in you - the determination, the stubbornness, the boy who became a man on a battlefield - but then he could see the you from before, softer at the edges when you smile, your voice like music he couldn’t stop listening to, your frame so much smaller than his, even with the muscles that have built under your honeyed skin.

He looked away so he couldn’t stare anymore.

“Everytime I see sharpening a sword or, or carrying a supply box, I can hear my father’s voice in my head, telling me that I’m dishonouring your family name,” Soonyoung admitted, “He put a lot of emphasis on expectations and I just never questioned them before. Not until you. Because how can something that you have so much passion about be bad? How can that be wrong?”

You deflated and blinked, exhaustion from the day and from fighting for your place clear on your face. Soonyoung wondered if those were the right words, if they even made sense to you like they barely did to him. 

“My mother would say the same,” you confessed, your fingers curled into the extra fabric at the side of your uniform pants, “I may take on my husband’s name but I will always represent the Hua family.” your lips twisted into a muted smile, “I wonder what they’d say if they could see their daughter now. If they would talk about how I have disgraced myself or...”

“They couldn’t be,” Soonyoung was quick to insist, “I think, if my daughter snuck away to protect me, I’d feel devastated and lost and love them even more than I thought possible.”

The word ‘love’ came like a breath and it caught when you raised your gaze to look at him. Not with fire, strong and bullish in getting what you want, but wet and shaking, the eyes of a noble woman who has so much on her mind. There was something in your vulnerability, in your honesty, that ensnared him so tightly.

“You think so?” your voice croaked.

You blinked and one, single tear slipped through your firm barrier. Soonyoung reached out to catch it, calloused fingers brushing against the soft arch of your cheekbone. It had been a long time since he touched a woman and you imprinted yourself over that memory, making it so all he could recall was you in this moment.

“I wouldn’t lie,” Soonyoung promised. And then, because the tense was too much around them, he cracked a smile and added, “if I’m wrong, I can think of a good few people who wouldn’t mind bringing you back home when this is all over.”

He felt the heat of your flush against his palm and it was only then that he realised he was still touching you. He pulled away like he’d just stuck his hand into the fire, pressing the palm against his chest like he mere pressure could will the feeling of you away from him.

“Yes, a warrior is the perfect kind of daughter in law,” you muttered back.

The word ‘daughter in law’ echoed around Soonyoung’s head. He laughed and bit back, “I was thinking more of housemaid,” and enjoyed the way that you yelped, punching him firmly on the arm in retaliation.

Over dinner, you served him first, even as all the eyes of the camp were on you.

He watched you, fascinated, when you winked and said, “Just trying to secure my place as the daughter in law.”

“General Kwon!” Joshua sounded elated, “Did you propose to our darling lady?”

“I knew he had a humiliation kink,” Jeonghan added fuel to the fire.

Soonyoung felt like he was going to explode. “Would you shut up?”

“Quick, Lady Jin, call him a dickhead or something,” Mingyu teased. 

“I’ll call you a dickhead,” you shot back quickly, your face a wonderful shade of pink. “You guys are insufferable sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?” Seongcheol arched an eyebrow in disbelief, an amused twitch to his smile.

--------------------

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You couldn't help but live with only one purpose. To please Mr Park Seonghwa. He was a ruthless killer and a lavish lover. He spent most nights at his brother's nightclub, waiting for his next prey to satisfy himself. But when he laid eyes on you. The most beautiful and elegant little flower. He knew he needed to have you.

You were just too perfect. A young girl looking for a fresh start, so why did you stumble upon a bar filled with drunken mistakes and drugged-up nobodies? But the truth is simple. You were looking for excitement. Looking for trouble.

Needing to prove to your father that you weren't an inconsequential girl anymore. You could take charge, leave a room breathless at your presence, and take what you wanted. But alas, when you crawled into Seonghwa's lap. You both knew your oh-so-perfect image came crumbling down...

"P-please S-sir I, I wanna come so bad." Seonghwa has held you tightly down on his bed for the past hour, edging you until your pussy was puffy and sensitive. He wanted to see the tears rolling down your face before he would let you come. And every time you were close to the edge, his cock would slip out of your soaked cunt and he'd give it a slap, making you scream so loud you were sure his bodyguards heard how pathetic you sounded for him.

Tsk. He clicked his tongue, smirking sadistically from above you. His face was mere inches from yours, but when you tried to reach for a kiss, he'd pull back, making you whimper even more. "Come on, darling. I wanna see those tears. Can't you do that for me?"

He knew you were close to tears. You just needed one more push. So he sank his thick cock back into you with a sharp snap making you gasp out, gripping the silk sheets below you.

"SEONG!"

"My, my. Look at you dove. Imagine what your father would think, knowing you were so cock drunk off his enemy."

Yes, that's right, Seonghwa was not only trouble but the trouble your father warned you about. If you were going to be your father's successor, his enemies would become yours but here you were letting his number one adversary fuck the living shit out of you until you were nothing but a crying, pleading mess.

"Sir please I've been a good girl, let me cum." Tears finally broke down your face making Seonghwa snap his hips harder into you. You could feel his balls slap against your ass, as his cock drives deeper into you.

"You feel so good, baby. So warm and tight. Fuck you swore I'd never fuck you before." His words were pure vulgarity and you loved every second of it. "Are you gonna cum now baby? Come on, make a mess on your cock. It's yours, isn't it? Just like I'm yours and you are mine."

You cried in response, feeling more tears fall, beginning to wet the bed.

"Say it, doll. Who owns you? Who owns this fucking delicious cunt of yours?" His hot breath pooled against your wet cheek, making you finally open your eyes to meet his. They were dark, blown out with an inhuman nature mixing with lust. He was going to be the death of you—literally—. But deep down you knew he would protect you the moment you met him. You had to pick sides and prove to not only others but yourself that you were just as capable of being in this line of work as Seonghwa or your father. You were just as much trouble as anyone else.

"Yours..." You spoke clearly for the first time tonight.

"I am yours..."

©Ja3hwa. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

Wooyoung acted first, pulling your laptop away from you. You try to protest, but a stern glare from Yunho makes you quiet down. Yunho settled on the couch, tugging you onto his lap, your aching back against his sturdy chest. He placed warming kisses along your shoulder and neck, his hand moving under your shirt.

He cupped your chest in his hand, groping and squeezing it as his other hand kept your hips pinned in his lap. “No more thinking, baby. Just be here with us.” Wooyoung had moved the coffee table, sitting on his knees between Yunho’s parted thighs. Both of their hands groped and toyed with your body, laying wet kisses over all the skin they could reach.

Wooyoung hit his limit first, tapping your thigh as a signal. Like clockwork, you lifted your hips, letting him take your loungewear and panties off. As soon as both pieces were out of his hands, he dove in. Spreading your legs to hook them on either side of Yunho’s knees. “You just couldn’t wait, could you, you pervert?” Wooyoung flushed at Yunho’s words, his tongue pressing flat against your hole.

Yunho kept you steady, a strong hand keeping your hips at bay while Wooyoung feasted on you like it was his last meal. His other hand pulled your, well, his shirt over your chest, letting out a shaky breath as your nipples hardened from the cool air. He was quick to pinch your nipple, tweaking and toying with the bud as Wooyoung’s moans vibrated against your slick pussy, his nose grinding into your clit as he psuhed his tongue into your wet hole.

“Does it feel good, princess? You like getting your pretty pussy tongue fucked, huh?” Your face warmed at his words. Yunho held your face, squishing your cheeks together as he tilted your head down. “Then watch your pretty pussy get tongue fucked. Shit, I can hear how soaked you are, tiny.” Wooyoung’s eyes were glazed over by now, his gaze unfocused as he ate you out.

The noises were heinous, lewd slurping, licking, and sucking as Wooyoung all but made out with your pussy and split it open on his tongue. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, too engrossed in savouring your taste on his tongue to speak, but that didn’t matter as Yunho did the talking for him. “Make a mess on his face, tiny. He’s begging for it, isn’t he? You don’t want to upset him, do you?” His voice is low and grounding. Your body pulls taut, your pussy spasming against his mouth. Wooyoung helped you ride it out, sucking your clit into his mouth with greed.

You writhed in Yunho’s lap as Wooyoung kept going, his fingers gathering your slick before pushing in alongside his tongue. You nearly scream as Wooyoung moves them immediately, a constant in and out as his mouth returned to your twitching clit. His fingers are lithe, working you up all over again just as his mouth did. Your legs are shaking as you can do nothing but bear the pleasure. Wooyoung’s voice was soft as he called out to you. “That’s my girl, so pretty when you come all over my face.”

Yunho groaned in your ear as you squirmed on him, his cock throbbing in his sweats. Wooyoung pulled his mouth off of you, licking his lips as he stared up at Yunho. There was a challenging look in his eyes, a fire that Wooyoung was so determined to ignite. Wooyoung pushed his hand under your hips, stilling pumping his fingers into you, to grab at Yunho’s waistband. The older man chuckled darkly, lifting you ever so slightly to make the task easier. “You little whore…”

Wooyoung nearly came at the view in front of him; your slicked pussy clenching around his fingers ang Yunho’s thick cock throbbing right next to it. Wooyoung spat into his palm, using his saliva to make the slide against the pulsing cock in front of him. Yunho’s head fell back against the couch, his hips bucking into Wooyoung’s slicked hand. Just like he did with you, his hand moved erratically.

Yunho nearly bucked you off him as Wooyoung squeezed his fist around his cock, the slick sounds only piling onto yours. You don’t know where you’re looking as tears blur your vision. Yunho pulled at your shirt again, tearing it at the seams until it was off of you. His hands moved to your chest, groping, squeezing and fondling them as he pinched, pulled and toyed with your nipples. Your head falls back onto Yunho’s shoulder, and every nerve in your body is sparking.

Wooyoung watches with amusement as you both drown in pleasure, too occupied to notice that he’s removed his hands from you and shifted your position again. Wooyoung sits up higher on his knees, watching your faces contort in pleasure as he eases your wet cunt onto Yunho’s pulsing cock. The sudden stretch makes your eyes snap open, peering down at Wooyoung, who only winked back at you. He moved your hips for you, forcing you to take every inch of Yunho’s cock in your sore cunt.

Yunho seems too out of it to notice but he does take note of how hot it feels around his dick all of a sudden. His hands fall to your hips, engulfing Wooyoung’s in his own. He peels his eyes open, groaning as he recognized the familiar tight heat around his cock. Your body was putty in their hands as they worked you every which way. A quick surge of energy was all Yunho needed to flip you onto the couch, your hips raised and your back in a shameless arch. “I’m done waiting, tiny. You’ll take it for me, won't you? Be my good girl and take all of my cum in your pretty cunt, hm?”

He was quick to fill you up again, his nails digging into your hips as he drilled his cock into you. Yunho pressed a hand to your back, deepening the arch as he savoured how your sweet cunt stretched around his length. Wooyoung stayed kneeling beside you, his pants tugged low enough to let his cock spring free. He hissed as he wrapped a hand around himself, using your slick as lube to stroke his dick. He matched his pace with Yunho’s hips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Yunho reached over to him, pulling him closer by his jaw. Wooyoung’s mouth parted with a whine, letting Yunho press his thumb to his tongue. Wooyoung whimpered as Yunho held his mouth open, his face flushing darker as he noticed your eyes on him too. “How lucky am I to be dealing with not one, but two whores?” Wooyoung whines again, his hand speeding up as he makes a mess all over himself. His hand keeps going, stroking himself through his orgasm and closer to another one.

You moan along with him, fucking yourself back on Yunho’s cock. He hisses, letting Wooyoung fend for himself as he finally gives himself the righteous release that he earned waiting as long as he had. His hands reaches under you, pressing messy circles on your swollen clit. Your body tenses before going limp, dizzy with the pleasure ringing in your ears. You can feel a warm hand push the stray hairs from your face, before a gentle kiss is pressed to you temple.

“Look at that. Not a single thought is in that pretty little head of yours, is it? Don’t worry, Youngie and I will clean up. Just get some rest, tiny.”

Yunho's fingers drift from your shoulder to the side of your neck, brushing lightly, then lower along your collarbone. "You look so pretty tonight," he murmurs, voice low and teasing. His blond fringe falls forward as he leans in closer, pretending to point something out on the field. Under the blanket, his other hand slides up your thigh, warm and heavy, squeezing gently.

Wooyoung chuckles softly on your right, mirroring the movement. His hand creeps higher up your inner thigh, fingertips dancing just under the hem of your shorts. Your breath catches and of course they notice immediately. They look at each other knowingly before Wooyoung leans in.

“Tell me baby,” Wooyoung whispers against your ear, voice low and teasing. “You’ve been squirming between us since we sat down… You want our hands on you right here, don’t you?”

You don’t answer - you can’t, not with people a few rows away - but your silence and the way your thighs press together say everything.

Heat floods your face as Wooyoung’s fingers brush teasingly against your clothed heat, confirming exactly what he suspected.

“Fuck, she's soaked.” He looks at Yunho who is grinning wickedly already. “Ok baby, let's play… but you have to be quiet, okay?”

Your heart races. You try to keep your face neutral, eyes fixed on the players below, but you can't help but gasp softly when Yunho’s long fingers slip under the blanket and between your legs from the left.

He doesn’t rush, tracing the seam of your shorts first, then pushing the fabric aside, gliding two thick fingers along your folds over your panties. The slow, teasing pressure makes your hips twitch.

“Shhh,” Yunho warns gently, his deep voice vibrating close to your ear. “Remember… not a sound. There are still people a few rows down.”

Wooyoung’s fingers join seconds later from the right. He tugs your panties to the side with practiced ease, and now both of them have access. Yunho focuses on your clit, slow deliberate circles with his fingertips, spreading your growing wetness.

Wooyoung teases your entrance, dipping just the tip of one finger inside before pulling back, then two, stretching you open lazily while the game cheers mask any tiny sounds.

You’re completely trapped between their bodies, Yunho’s tall frame on one side, solid and warm, his free hand now resting possessively on your other thigh to keep your legs parted; Wooyoung pressed tight on the right, his shoulder brushing yours, glasses slipping down as he concentrates on the way his fingers curl inside you.

Their rhythm builds gradually: Yunho rubbing tighter, faster circles on your swollen clit while Wooyoung pumps two fingers deeper, scissoring gently, finding that spot that makes your toes curl.

They work together like they share one filthy mind. Every time Yunho presses firmer on your clit, Wooyoung thrusts deeper and curls harder.

When your hips twitch, their free hands press firmly on your outer thighs under the blanket, holding you open and trapped between their warm, solid bodies. The roaring crowd and stadium lights make it dangerously easy… no one would ever guess what’s happening underneath.

Your breathing turns shallow. You bite your lip hard, gripping the edge of the bench. A soft whimper escapes before you can stop it.

Wooyoung’s hand stills for a second.

“Careful,” he whispers, voice dripping with amusement. “Someone’s gonna notice if you keep making those pretty noises.” But he doesn’t stop. He adds a third finger, stretching you fuller, thrusting slow and deep while Yunho’s fingers press firmer on your clit, rubbing in perfect sync.

Yunho leans in even closer, hair brushing your cheek, lips ghosting your temple. “You’re soaking our hands already. So good for us, staying quiet like this.” His fingers speed up just a little, the slick sounds thankfully hidden by the roaring crowd.

Wooyoung curls his fingers again and again against that sensitive spot, his thumb occasionally brushing Yunho’s on your clit, the dual stimulation driving you insane.

Your thighs start trembling uncontrollably. Sweat beads on your skin. Every muscle is tight as you fight to keep still… no moaning, no obvious moving, just the overwhelming feeling of both their skilled hands working you.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Yunho murmurs, voice husky. “I can feel you clenching around Woo’s fingers. Come for us, baby. Right here. Just don’t let them hear.”

The orgasm hits you like a wave.

You bury your face in Yunho’s red jersey, muffling your broken, shaking moan against his chest as your whole body convulses violently between them, thighs clamping around their hands as pleasure crashes through you.

They don’t stop. Yunho keeps those tight circles going through every pulse, Wooyoung curls his fingers deep and holds them there, milking every last tremor until you’re a trembling, oversensitive mess.

Only when the aftershocks fade do they slowly withdraw their hands. Yunho casually brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean while locking eyes with you, a wicked smirk on his lips.

Wooyoung adjusts your shorts and panties back into place with gentle fingers, then makes a peace sign toward the field like nothing happened, glasses still slightly fogged.

By the time you reach the car in the dimly lit far corner of the lot, you’re throbbing again, a need building low in your belly.

Wooyoung opens the back door first. “In you go, baby.” He gives your ass a light smack as you climb inside, the sting blooming hot against your skin and then slides in after you.

Yunho gets in on the other side, locking the doors with a soft click that sounds far too loud in the sudden quiet. Your pulse spikes, a mix of nerves and anticipation tightening in your chest.

The tinted windows and the late hour mean no one can see in. But the risk still lingers, cars parked nearby, people walking past in the distance, making your skin prickle with forbidden excitement.

Yunho doesn’t waste time. He pulls you onto his lap immediately, your back to his chest, legs spread wide over his thighs. The position leaves you completely open, vulnerable, and the hard press of his bulge against your ass makes your breath catch.

His hands grip your hips hard, already grinding you down, sending a rush of fresh heat down through your core.

“Been hard since I felt how wet you were for us,” he murmurs against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. The warmth of his breath and the scrape of his teeth make you shiver, arousal pooling between your legs. “Couldn’t stop thinking about stretching this pretty pussy.” You lean your head back into him, lips slightly parting at his words.

Wooyoung kneels between your spread legs in the spacious back seat, pushing your shorts and panties down in one smooth motion. Cool air hits your slick, overheated flesh and you whimper softly, the exposure making you clench around nothing.

You look down on him as he leans in and drags his tongue slowly up your slit, tasting the mess they made earlier. The wet heat of his mouth sends a jolt straight through you, your hips twitching involuntarily.

“Holy shit, Woo! That’s sensitive!” you gasp. He grins up at you, eyes dark behind his glasses. “Too much already baby…? You're still so fucking soaked though. Taste so good after you come…how can I resist?” He dives back in, licking another stripe back to front.

You moan, head falling back against Yunho’s shoulder, the solid warmth of his body grounding you even as pleasure makes your mind fuzzy. Wooyoung doesn’t linger, he sits back, pulling you forward slightly so Yunho can free himself. The sound of his zipper is filthy in the quiet car, and you can feel the longing building in your stomach.

Yunho lines up, rubbing the thick head of his cock against your slick entrance. He pauses, voice low and gentle against your ear.

“You good, baby? Say the word.”

You nod quickly, breathless. “Yes… please.”

He sinks into you in one slow, deep thrust, stretching you wide around his thick cock. The fullness is overwhelming, a burning, perfect pressure that makes your walls flutter and squeeze around him, drawing a sharp gasp from your throat. You feel so full it borders on being too much, every inch dragging against all the sensitive spots inside you.

“Fuck… you're so tight,” Yunho groans, holding you down on him. “That’s it. Take every inch.” The stretch burns deliciously, sending waves of heat radiating through your belly and thighs. Wooyoung’s hands pin your thighs open wider, keeping you spread and helpless on Yunho’s lap.

The restraint makes you feel owned, exposed, and it only heightens everything. Yunho starts fucking up into you, slow and hard like he said he would, each thrust deep enough to make your toes curl and press against that one spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes.

Every time Yunho bottoms out, a heavy, aching pleasure blooms low in your core, your clit grinding against his base and sending sparks up your spine. You're coming undone quickly.

Wooyoung leans in to kiss you messily and suck marks into your neck, his fingers occasionally circling your clit in time with the thrusts. The dual sensations leave you dizzy, overwhelmed, your body trembling as slick sounds fill the car with every movement.

The car rocks gently with the rhythm, windows starting to fog, and the realization that you’re getting fucked right here where anyone could walk by makes your heart pound with nervous excitement.

“Quiet, baby,” Wooyoung teases, “Don’t want anyone hearing how good he is taking you.”

Yunho’s pace stays deliberate, grinding deep on every upward stroke, one hand now sliding up to wrap loosely around your throat, pulling you even closer. The light pressure is making you feel claimed and breathless, while his other hand keeps your hip locked in place.

“So fucking soaked for us. Listen to that,” Yunho whispers hotly against your ear, the obscene slick sounds filling the car with every thrust. You can feel how drenched you are, how easily he slides in and out, and the embarrassment only makes you clench tighter around him.

You’re trembling again already, overwhelmed by how full he makes you feel, how Wooyoung’s fingers keep teasing your clit and occasionally dipping down to feel where Yunho’s cock disappears inside you, stretching you obscenely.

The dual stimulation builds a coiling tension in your belly, hot and urgent. Wooyoung catches your gaze, glasses still on, eyes dark with want. "Cant wait for my turn baby. But first I want him to fill you up while I watch.”

The words push you closer to the edge, shame and arousal twisting together until you can barely think. Yunho feels it, his thrusts getting just a fraction faster, hitting that perfect spot over and over, the drag of his cock making your walls flutter helplessly.

“Come all over my cock, baby. Let go. We’ve got you.”

Your second orgasm crashes through you harder than the first, a blinding wave that starts deep in your core and explodes outward, making your thighs shake violently, your walls clenching and pulsing around him in rhythmic spasms.

Pleasure whites out your vision; you hold on to the back of Wooyoung's head, pulling him closer and burying your face against his neck to muffle the broken sounds tearing from your throat, every muscle locked tight as the orgasm drags on, leaving you panting and oversensitive.

Yunho keeps fucking you through it, low groans vibrating against your skin, until he finally spills deep inside with a shaky curse, pulsing hot as he pumps into you. The warmth of his release floods you, making you feel claimed, messy, and so full it leaks around him.

Your body is still pulsing with aftershocks- a dazed little smile tugs at your lips- when Wooyoung grins wickedly. You let out a squeak as he suddenly pulls you off Yunho onto his lap in one smooth motion. “My turn.” He slides into your oversensitive, cum-slick heat with a satisfied groan. “Holy shit baby…you feel amazing!”

The new stretch, slick with Yunho’s cum, makes you whimper at the sensitivity, your walls fluttering around him as he sinks deep. He fucks you slower than Yunho, savoring every inch, hands roaming under your shirt to pinch your nipples, causing sharp sparks to travel straight to your clit.

Yunho watches closely, fingers lazily playing with your clit again, keeping the pleasure relentless. The car is thick with the smell of sex and the sounds of skin on skin, fogged windows hiding everything from the world outside.

Your body feels used in the best way, trembling and burning with overstimulation, yet still craving more as they push you toward another peak.

Wooyoung’s thrusts start losing their slow rhythm, growing deeper and more urgent. His hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you down onto him with every stroke. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so good,” he groans, voice strained.

You feel every thick inch dragging against your sensitive walls, the mix of your wetness and Yunho’s cum making everything slick and filthy. The overstimulation borders on too much, sharp sparks of pleasure-pain shooting through you with each thrust, but it only makes you clench harder around him.

Yunho’s fingers keep circling your swollen clit, not letting the pressure drop for a second. “That’s it, baby. Let go just one more time.”

Wooyoung buries his face in your neck, hips snapping up sharply a few more times before he spills deep inside you with a low, broken moan. You feel him pulse hot and hard, thick ropes of cum spilling into you, mixing with Yunho’s and its pushing you over the edge again.

Another orgasm rips through your exhausted body, weaker but longer, leaving you shaking and whimpering as your walls flutter around his cock, milking every last drop.

Wooyoung stays buried inside you for a moment, breathing hard against your neck, then presses a soft kiss to your damp skin. “So perfect for us,” he whispers, voice hoarse but warm. “Our pretty girl.”

Yunho hums in agreement, gently brushing your hair back from your flushed face. “Yeah… you took us so well, baby. We’ve got you.” He leans in to kiss your temple, his touch turning tender now that the heat has eased.

Wooyoung pulls out and you melt between them, boneless and glowing in the quiet car. After a while, Wooyoung sits up with a lazy grin, looking around. “Fuck… we made a mess.”

Yunho chuckles, his chest vibrating against you. “No shit. Also… I’m starving.”With that- right on cue- his stomach growls loudly.

Wooyoung cackles, head tipping back.

“Wow, timing. Sounds like someone worked up quite the appetite.” Yunho groans in mock embarrassment but grins. “Shut up. We’re all a mess anyway. How about a shower and some food?”

“Excellent idea,” Wooyoung agrees, still chuckling as he helps fix your clothes. “So… round three at home after we replenish?” He gives you a playful wink, eyes sparkling with mischief.

You let out a tired laugh and shake your head. “You’re crazy.”

you exhale, trying to ignore the way your pulse is already picking up just from the situation itself. this just couldn't be happening. if it were a condom, no problem, as if you didn’t prefer to do it raw. or whatever small thing like forgetting to buy eggs or chocolate. that's more forgivable than something like a remote control for the very expensive toy he bought to torture you with.

“woo, that’s basically the same thing.”

“not really.”

“there’s no point in me even wearing this if you can’t control it.”

“maybe it’s in my car.”

“maybe?”

“guess we’ll find out.” and just like that, he puts on his shoes and grabs the car keys, heading for the door, leaving you standing there, stomach twisting with the uneasy feeling that he’s not nearly as clueless as he’s pretending to be.

you and wooyoung aren’t dating. you don’t see anyone else, he doesn’t, either. it’s… whatever this is. something in between, exclusive, but unlabeled. days that blur into nights harder to walk away from. kisses that linger, hands that don’t know when to stop because with him, everything always leads somewhere, tension that never really fades.

he calls you angel when you’re trying to be a sweet devil. baby when you’re glaring at him, princess when you’re about to snap, and brat when you behave like one. you call him annoying, dickhead, little shit, sometimes baby slips out, when you’re not thinking too hard about it. 

it’s inevitable. he likes control, thrives on it. pushes until you push back, just to see how far you’ll go before you give in. and you pretend you don’t enjoy it, but you love and appreciate him more than anything; he is your soulmate, perhaps, or at least that's what you like to tell yourself. people don’t ask questions anymore. to them, you’re just wooyoung’s girl, and whether that’s made official or not, you don’t correct them.

the thing is, it’s not just teasing and tension. he knows how to take care of you, too. soften after he’s been rough and give just as much as he takes. he keeps you on your tippy toes, yes, but he also knows exactly how to spoil you and make it feel like you’re the only one he’s paying attention to.

maybe that’s why you stay. and maybe that’s why, even after checking the car and coming up empty, you’re still standing there with him, wearing the damn thing like it wasn’t a mistake to begin with.

“baby, relax,” he says, closing the car door with a soft thud as he locks it, shrugs like it’s nothing. “it’s not the end of the world.”

you stare at him as you wait for him to get on your side so you can walk together to the building. he smirks, stepping closer, just enough to mess with your already delicate balance. you open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.

“if you’re that desperate,” murmuring as he doesn’t look bothered. if anything, he looks more amused. “i can always take care of it myself.”

“how, exactly?” you ask, and his gaze stops at your face, taking in your beautiful features once again.

“my fingers,” he adds, like he’s listing options. “my mouth. whatever my princess needs.”

you swallow, trying to hold your ground, even as heat creeps up your neck, then he leans in just enough, voice brushing past your ear, “but don’t even think about asking for more. not with that attitude you had earlier.”

your breath catches for half a second before you recover, shoving lightly at his chest. you hate how his words settle somewhere under your skin, because as much as you want to think otherwise, you know he means it.

the place is quieter than you expected. you and wooyoung are the first to arrive early, for once. when you checked the time, you realized you’d be here almost twenty minutes ahead of everyone else. you’re usually right on time, or at least not the first through the door.

“hey, don’t think too much about it,” he murmurs as you stand in front of the door after ringing the bell, his hand settling at your lower back, warm against your bare skin. “just relax and try to have fun.”

right on cue, the door swings open, and there he is — the man of the hour.

“wooyoung, (name), didn’t expect you to come that early,” YUNHO says, greeting you both with that charming and welcoming smile.

“congratulations on the ten million, yu!” you say, handing him the small gift bag. “this is from me and woo, something small, but from the heart.”

“you shouldn’t have, your support was already enough,” he cuts in, taking it with a grin. “but thank you. now come in.” 

he lets you both inside, already talking about the milestone and how unexpected it was. he figured it was worth celebrating with the people closest to him. ten million subscribers on youtube, a diamond button, and a whole career built off a screen, and somehow still the same yunho you’ve always known.

you settle onto the couch, nodding along as you listen. beside you, wooyoung drops down without a second thought, legs spreading to take up more space than necessary, his arm draping over your shoulders, a little territorial. yunho moves around in front of you, back turned as he fixes up drinks, adjusting things here and there. then he reaches for the remote on the table. 

“let me just put something on while we wait for the others.”

you barely notice it at first, until you do. a faint vibration, subtle enough to miss if you weren’t already on edge. but then you feel it a little stronger now, your entire body goes still. next to you, wooyoung doesn’t move, but you catch the slight tension in him before he relaxes again. he knows something you don’t. 

yunho keeps clicking absentmindedly, frowning at the tv. “why isn’t this turning on?”

your fingers curl into the hem of your skirt, trying your very best to stay calm and not to move so much, because the tv isn’t the thing he turned on.

the realization hits wooyoung first. his gaze flicks to the remote in his friend's hand, then back to you. so that’s where it went, huh? a few days ago, you were at yunho’s again, along with san and mingi. hanging out and trying a new game while the youtuber showed off his new tv, whose remote looked almost identical to the other one for the vibrator.

because if that remote is in yunho’s hand, then that means — yes, the tv remote is at wooyoung’s place, tucked away somewhere after he probably took it by mistake. and he had been wondering why the toy wasn’t working, thought the batteries had died or that it needed charging. clearly, he hadn’t bothered to check. he told you he lost it to avoid nagging from you about breaking expensive things again.

wooyoung leans back into the couch, the initial surprise fading as amusement settles in. his hand squeezes your shoulder gently, almost reassuring, if it weren’t for the situation. you’re trembling slightly at first, your lips press together tightly, but a soft moan slips out. your hand flies to your mouth too late, and that’s what makes yunho turn, glancing at you with concern. 

“are you okay?” you’re not.

“y-yeah, i’m o-okay,” you manage to answer somehow, voice unsteady, but he’s already clicking the remote again, and it speeds up. your voice betrays you again, as wooyoung tilts his head, leaning in so only you can hear him. “sure about that, angel?”

you shoot him a look from the corner of your eye, but he only gives you that same cocky grin. 

yunho presses another button. the sensation spikes stronger this time, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to hold it in. it hits deeper now, the vibrations hit your core, your thighs press together, and you can feel how wet you are getting already.

“yunho,” your so-called ‘boyfriend’ says in that playful tone of his you grew up to despise, “maybe try the other button.”

your eyes snap open instantly. yunho hums, doing exactly that. you clamp your hand over your mouth when a little louder moan than before slips into the quiet room. he looks over again, brows pulling together, lips parting slightly.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, slower this time, but you nod too quickly.

“y-yeah, i–” another press and your answer turns into a breathy gasp, “ahh–”

yunho’s gaze flickers between the two of you. he turns it off, watching as your body relaxes, your shoulders dropping, then turns it on again, and you immediately jolt, squirming against the couch. oh, is that... he is curious now as he keeps pushing button after a button, and every instinct in your body is telling you to move, to stop this, maybe get up and grab that forsaken remote from his hand, only for wooyoung to hold you in place.

“shh, keep it down,” he murmurs near your ear. “wouldn’t want to make it obvious.”

“you–” you whisper, barely getting the word out, he watches the flutter of your eyelids, the minor tremors in your thighs. 

“should i stop?” yunho asks, and wooyoung answers before you can.

“hmm… i don’t think she wants you to.”

“i wan–” your hand flies back to your mouth once the vibrations hit you right at that spot.

“see? she’s not saying no.” wooyoung hums and your glare. why does he have to be so mean? give men a little power and watch them ruin beautiful things.

“tell me what you want,” the taller says, thumb hovering over the remote, attentive, but not stepping back. while the shorter is watching you struggle, enjoying every second. to be honest, he's always been a sadist, but when someone else is around, he just becomes absolutely insufferable. he never allowed anything like that, for someone else to interfere, not even permission is given to san.

“princess, if you don’t answer, he might just keep guessing.” and even through the tension and the overwhelming pressure building in your body, you still manage to be difficult.

“or,” you breathe out shakily, glaring up at your boyfriend, “you could both stop being annoying and figure it out yourselves.”

wooyoung blinks, then lets out a quiet laugh under his breath. “there she is, the brat in you has been hiding for so long now. i was wondering when it will come back.”

the first few minutes were a low setting here, a pulse there. you’d squirmed, biting your lip, trying to endure it and to show them that you, in fact, can handle it. then the vibration settled at a steady, mid-level grind. it’s enough to keep you perched on thin ice, pleasure coiling tight and hot in your belly but never releasing. you’re panting softly against your own palm, sweat dampening the back of your neck where wooyoung’s breath fans.

“look at her. she’s trying so hard to be quiet. she the prettiest angel, right yunho?”

yunho doesn’t answer immediately. he just turns the vibration off completely. the sudden absence creates crushing emptiness that feels worse than the stimulation. a whimper of pure loss breaks from your throat as your hips seek the pleasure that’s gone.

“oh, she doesn’t like that,” wooyoung coos, laughing softly. his hand slides down from your waist to splay possessively over your lower stomach, pressing down. “she wants it back, doesn’t she?”

“please,” you rasp, the word torn from you in a blissful whimper.

“please, what?” yunho becomes more precise and fully engaged, almost analytical. where did the sweet and kind golden boy disappear to? he stops asking, are you okay? and starts deciding what to do, probably influenced by the devil next to you. “use your words.”

“please… turn it back on.” you're so cute when you beg, that they just want to ruin you more.

“but you were getting too excited,” wooyoung chides, his fingers digging in slightly. “we can’t have you finishing without permission. that would be rude.”

yunho nods, as if considering this. he presses the button and it doesn’t return to the previous peaceful level. it comes back at the highest setting, followed by a violent, immediate buzz that feels less like pleasure and more like an electrical assault. you cry out, the sound strangled, your body seizing. it’s too much, an overwhelming flood that tips straight into overstimulation in a heartbeat when your vision whites out at the edges.

you’re screaming inside at the sensation, a relentless drilling into your pussy that offers no peace. your muscles are locked, shaking with the effort of containing it. you can feel the shameful slickness that has nothing to do with comfort and everything to do with helpless and brutalized arousal.

“so sensitive,” wooyoung bites your earlobe gently, holding you through, his embrace now less a restraint and more a comfort as you grip his forearm. “one little toy and you’re completely gone.”

yunho lets it run for what feels like an eternity. just when you think you might genuinely shatter into a million pieces under the onslaught, he drops it again. not to nothing, but back to that maddening and low speed. the drop is cruel as you sob. the makeup you spent so much time on is probably ruined, no matter how waterproof it is. slumping back against wooyoung, the low hum he lets feels like a taunt now, a reminder of what you can’t have.

“i think she’s learned her lesson,” he says, but his tone suggests the lesson is far from over. yunho walks over to the couch and crouches in front of you, the remote still in hand. he reaches out with his other hand, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they brush a tear from your cheek, you didn’t even know had fallen.

“you’re doing so well,” he says, his gaze holding yours, and you can’t even recognize him. “but you don’t get to come unless we say so, you understand?”

he doesn’t wait for an answer. he turns the remote over, shows you the tiny led light indicating it’s active, and the persistent, low-grade vibration continues. wooyoung kisses your cheek to keep you there with him, at least physically, as yunho rises, his shadow falling over you both.

you don’t know how long you have been denied an orgasm; you couldn't, there was no way, and you weren't allowed. those were their rules. it feels like you have been sitting on this couch forever without a second's rest. overwhelmed by the sensation coursing through your body, moaning softly, then whining as you trembled with need, turning to yunho with wide and pleading eyes, who is just observing you coldly like a predator.

“almost there, hm?” he whispers, his deep voice sending shivers and goosebumps on your half-naked body. considering the outfit you chose to wear, the cool air hits you like a tornado. the tension in the room thickens as you feel the pleasure and the denial, the toy pulsing against your every response to the pleas of your body. you are desperate, but the thrill of the chase is what they both seem to enjoy and bond over.

“too much? not enough? what is it, baby?” wooyoung mocks you with a playful question. you feel trapped between them, one holding you in place, the other controlling something you can’t. their voices overlap, layering over each other in a constant push and pull of teasing and coaxing, a taunting rhythm that makes it harder to think straight, let alone speak.

yunho, in all his life, never thought he’d enjoy something like this so much. you’re wooyoung’s — everyone wants you, but you only ever want one man. even so, a selfish thought slips in: he wishes he could take wooyoung’s place, be the one making you react like this and pushing your buttons, pulling you apart piece by piece.

lost in that thought, he doesn’t even realize how far he’s taken it, but the setting has shifted, turned it up to its limit. wooyoung’s sharp voice cuts through first, worried now, snapping him back. he blinks, startled, heart catching as he registers wooyoung’s tone over the sound of your broken breaths and desperate little sounds.

“yunho, turn it the fuck off, you psychopath.”

without hesitation, his thumb moves, dialing it down to something gentler. 

wooyoung is already there, hand threading into your hair, slowly soothing you, fingers combing through as his other hand brushes your cheek, soft despite the smirk still playing on his lips, enjoying this just as much as he’s pretending not to.

“it’s okay, breathe.” you’re still shaking slightly, but wooyoung glances at yunho with narrowed eyes, ones that could easily stop whatever is happening. “see what you did?”

“i didn’t think it would go that far,” yunho exhales, running a hand through his hair, and your man just laughs under his breath.

“sure you didn’t.” then, softer when he turns to speak to you, fingers continue to soothe through your locks, “i’m sorry, angel. but you see… even he can’t resist making a mess out of you.”

despite the toy being set on a lower intensity, you still feel it building, wooyoung does too with the way your legs press tighter together and your back arches slightly. he lets you, easing his hand out of your hair before sliding it beneath your skirt again, pressing the toy a little firmer, shifting it all around to give you what you’ve earned. with his other hand, he signals yunho with two fingers, silent but clear: give me the remote back. enough is enough, he wants you back with him now. 

“come on, baby. yeah… feels good now, no?” his voice softening into something almost sweet as your eyes fall shut. your breathing is uneven, but steadier now than it was minutes ago. yunho can only watch, while wooyoung handles you with care.

and then the sweet release crashes through you all at once. finally, after being denied for so long, your body trembles, a soft whimper escaping as overstimulation follows right after. you feel the slick warmth between your thighs and you don’t even care about making a mess on the couch. all you can think about is breathing again, your body going slack as you lean into wooyoung without thinking. 

that’s when the doorbell rings, snapping all three of you back to reality. for a second, yunho just stands there, the remote still in his hand, and your uneven breathing still echoing in his ears. this is not new — at least, not for you and wooyoung. things like this, blurred lines between private and almost public, have existed long before yunho ever got pulled into it. the rest of the group has no idea, and they’re not meant to; it’s not anyone else’s business.

even if wooyoung carries that careless, sharing is caring kind of attitude, it only goes so far. perfumes and scents, those things he’ll scoff at, roll his eyes over, let slide without much thought. you, though? you’re not something he shares lightly. and yunho can understand it now, because he just stepped into territory that was never his to begin with.

“take her to the bathroom,” he says, clearing his throat as he hands the remote back by turning it off, nodding toward the hallway. “i’ll handle it.”

wooyoung nods once, already shifting his focus entirely to you, guiding you up with a hand at your waist as yunho heads toward the door. and just like that, the scene resets. the rest of the guys arrive, the apartment is filled with laughs and loud music, everything looks normal again. but at some point, someone notices the couch. 

“uh… why is there a stain?”

wooyoung doesn’t even hesitate to answer, you in his lap. “sorry, i spilled some juice. don’t worry, it’ll dry.” yeah, juice… your juice.

the party starts all drinking and having fun to celebrate their friend. however, yunho isn’t thinking about the guests or about his achievement in the virtual and social world… he thinks of how much he can achieve by making you cum on his cock instead of the cushions earlier without the usage of some stupid toy. of course, only if wooyoung lets him… tho doubts he would mind, you are not officially together after all.

© KISSSAN do not copy, repost or modify my work.

so, hello this is my shortest smut fic yet, and i just wanted to experiment with the formatting and the storytelling ! please, keep in mind that this was my first time writing anything focused on the usage of toys and i know it may be bad and not perfect, since i'm not familiar with this type of nsfw content, but i hope you enjoyed <33

There was a learning curve to living with the two men, such as sharing a bathroom, stupidly thin walls, and morning routines.  However, they made it as seamless as possible. Communication was easy, especially with Wooyoung who liked to overshare at times, not caring how it was taken so long as his point was made. 

The biggest downside you had found was the two’s competitive natures. They never failed to turn the simplest tasks into mini competitions even when you didn’t think it would be possible. Asking for a favor would almost certainly end with both attempting to do the one person task and having you assess which of them did it better. They never cared if it made it take longer, so long as they felt they did it better than the other. 

However, you quickly learned not to pick a winner as they started keeping track and could be sore losers at times. 

Yunho would sulk until you either: one, choose him as a winner, two, he seemingly forgot about the situation, or three, he was distracted from the loss by something that he wanted you involved in. 

Wooyoung on the other hand would refuse to make meals for both of you stating he only made meals for those who truly appreciated him. He also would refuse to go on shopping runs with you which straight up took the fun out of them (and often resulted in multiple runs as things were forgotten). He would hold his grudges longer and would bring them up so you didn’t forget them.

Even though you would refuse to pick and repeatedly told them not to include you in their petty disputes, it never failed that one of them would try. Which is why you were not surprised to hear the stomping sound of Wooyoung’s feet approaching your door. 

“Bug?” He whined as he knocked on your door. Your eyes rolling at the stupid nickname he gave you as a child after he watched you try to do some stunt you don't even remember and thought you looked like a squashed Bug. You hated it and he knew it and hence him still using it to this day. 

“Yes?” You answered back, pushing away from your desk after getting to a good stopping point in your work.

Having permission, Wooyoung barged into your room. The door nearly hitting the wall as he flung it open. 

“I need you to make Yunho stop cheating!” His whining continued. More footsteps approached from the living room. 

“I’m not cheating!” It’s not my fault you’re bad at the game.” Yunho spoke from behind Wooyound with a chuckle. He leaned against the hallway wall, next to his own door with his arms crossed against his chest. 

“Oh, bullshit! I’m great at that game, you have to be cheating!” Wooyoung’s voice raised in volume. He turned to face the other male, poking him in the chest with his accusation. 

You rubbed your temples with your hands as the two continued to go back and forth for a moment. Loud voices filling your ear drums in the smaller space of your bedroom. 

“Sweets, please, you gotta tell him I wasn’t cheating.” Yunho pleaded, a pout on his lips as he brought his hands together in front of him. 

“I’m not getting involved in something I didn’t witness.”

“But bug! You have to believe me!” Wooyoung cried, turning to face you once more. 

“I don't have to believe anything. Do you have proof?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well… no, but-”

“Then I have no way of telling.” 

“Come watch a round? Please? You’ll see what I mean.” His hand found your wrist, tugging lightly to try and get you out of your chair. 

With a large sigh, you let him pull you up. Dragging you into the living room, he maneuvered you to sit in the middle of the couch, taking the place to your right. Yunho wasn’t far behind, sitting on your left. Effectively trapping you between their thighs.

Looking at the TV you noticed it was paused on one of the various shooting games that Yunho loved so much. It made sense as to why Wooyoung was struggling to beat him when most of Yunho’s spare time was spent playing these games. You had tried to learn them but quickly gave up after losing three rounds in a row even with Yunho’s help. 

“Alright, one round. If I see any cheating I will call it out, otherwise the results are what they are.” You speak looking between the two. Yunho nods and Wooyoung gives him a glare before turning his attention fully to the screen. 

Yunho pulls up another match. “Need to change anything?” He asks, looking over to Wooyoung over your head. 

“No, without you cheating my layout is fine.” Wooyoung answers with a smirk as if he just unlocked the world’s best kept secret. You roll your eyes watching their character idle animations as the match loads. Your attention turns to your long haired roommate while you wait.

Wooyoung fidgets with his controller, hands restless and impatient. His leg bouncing as he bites his lip in anticipation. He leans over his legs, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes dart around the screen despite nothing of importance being on it. He spares you a minor glance, smirking when he catches your eyes on him. 

“It’s not me you need to keep an eye on, bug.” He whispers so Yunho can’t hear and you roll your eyes moving to look at your taller roommate.

Yunho on the other hand sits still as he stares at the screen. He’s fully leaned back His hands unmoving between his spread out legs. His thigh resting slightly against your own as his forearms rest on them. You resist the urge to bump his leg and get his attention. However, he can’t stop the smirk from forming on his face as he feels your eyes on him. 

“Already watching me, sweets?” He teases. 

“As she should be, you cheater.” Wooyoung comments and Yunho rolls his eyes. 

“At least she has her eyes on the winner.” 

“Bullshit!” Wooyoung yells as the game finally loads and the two start. 

The movements are hard to follow, your attention caught between 4 different things. You tried to watch Yunho’s movements but saw nothing out of the ordinary for them so your attention moved to Wooyoung. His trigger finger was clearly itchy as he was ready to shoot anything. You turned toward the screen and went back and forth watching their characters' POVs. Wooyoung found Yunho’s character first and managed to get a couple shots off before Yunho quickly found cover and was able to fire back. 

The two went back and forth for longer than you expected. Glancing between your roommates, Wooyoung was putting forth his best effort. His tongue sticking out of his mouth to help his concentration. Yunho on the other hand wore a smirk of confidence, a tell you knew well in the few short matches you had tried against him. 

He was playing with Wooyoung. 

Building up a false hope. 

It was a tactic Yunho used often. There was a pleasure in it for him knowing he could end it whenever he pleased—that his opponents fate rested in the palm of his hands. 

The scoff fell from your lips before you could stop it. Yunho glanced your way, raising an eyebrow in question. 

“End it.”

“End what?” Wooyoung asked, head turning toward you while his eyes stayed locked to the screen. “Is he cheating again?”

You ignored his questions, continuing to look at Yunho whose smirk grew larger as his eyes briefly met yours for a moment. He nodded and in a few short seconds, Wooyoung’s character was dead. 

“WHAT?! NO! HOW? I WAS DOING SO GOOD!” 

You winced, covering your ears at his increase in volume. He continued to complain, believing Yunho to have cheated once again and that you were now in on it. Yunho rolled his eyes once more before moving to shut off the system and put the controllers back. He stood in front of both of you for a moment, glancing between both of you as Wooyoung continued on. 

“I just can’t believe that you two would work against me like this! I trusted you to watch him! And you!” Wooyoung jumped up, moving to stand in front of Yunho. 

“Wooyoung,” You started, his attention turning back to you for a moment. “You’re so competitive and for what?” 

“Hey! It’s not just me. Yunho’s competitive too!” Wooyoung spoke, pointing to the taller man, very willing to throw his fellow roommate under the bus.

Yunho raised his hands in surrender, eyes avoiding your own—a wish to not be perceived passing through his mind. 

“You know, I swear, you two would turn sex into a competition if someone let you.” You spoke after a moment. A silence filled the room. Your roommates tensed for a moment as they turned to look at each other. The tips of Yunho’s ears turned red, eyes wide as he thought about your words. Wooyoung’s cheeks flushed but he smirked, thinking it over as well. 

“I mean… I bet I could make someone come harder. I know how to use my tongue after all.” Wooyoung spoke with a smirk as he glanced between you and Yunho. He then used his tongue to wet his lips leaving it out for a moment to tease his meaning. 

“Yeah, right.” Yunho scoffed. “Just because you’re a fast talker doesn’t mean you automatically have skill in pleasing others. Plus my fingers would beat your tongue any day.” He brought his hands up, flexing them as he then turned toward you “Tell him, you know I’m right.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes also turned to you. You gulped, feeling a lump form in your throat. 

“I don’t…” 

“Really, you made the competition but don’t want to take sides?” Wooyoung asked, cutting you off. He placed his hands on his hips, a smug smile growing at your lack of answer. 

“Woo, you can’t expect-”

“Well, if you won’t take sides, maybe you’ll let us prove it?” Yunho asked, hesitantly. He seemed almost shy, but from the smirk on his face you knew he was anything but. The tips of his ears were still red, giving away his slight embarrassment. 

“Prove it?” The question left your mouth before you could stop it. They shared another look before moving to either side of you on the couch. 

“Let us see who can make you come harder.” Wooyoung spoke with a slight whine as he moved to kneel beside your leg. 

“Wait, I'm not getting involved in–”

“Please, sweets? We just want to see.” Yunho begged, you hadn't seen him move to kneel, but his head now rested on your thigh. A pout on his lips as he looked up at you with his wide chocolate chip eyes.

“I don't want the cold shoulder from either of you, or pouting.”

“We won't, we promise.” Wooyoung spoke, mimicking Yunho by placing his head on your other thigh. 

It would be a lie to say that you had never thought of your roommates in this way. Having lived with them for nearly a year, you had seen your fair share of slip ups. A forgotten shirt here or stolen pants from a prank there and you knew both of them were packing. Wooyoung would talk about his experiences more often than either you or Yunho liked but it gave your imagination plenty of fuel. When out with friends, Yunho hinted at his experience and you had to admit that it made you curious. 

What would they be like with you? Would Wooyoung tease you or take control? Would Yunho be playful or completely dominant? Would they whimper, growl, or groan when they came? Would they be willing to share you, or let their possessiveness show? These being only some of the questions you wanted answers to.

You had just never advanced on your curiosity for a fear of making things awkward. You didn’t want to choose between the two and also feared rejection by either of them. 

Now, the perfect opportunity was being handed to you on a silver platter. 

It would be stupid to resist. 

You looked at Yunho, giving him the smallest nod. 

“Is that a yes, sweets? Can we touch you? We need your words.”

“Yes” you whispered, an uncertainty in your chest. 

You still had concerns of what this would change for the three of you. A question of what your relationship would be going forward. However you ignored the concerns as Wooyoung’s hands messed with the bottom of your skirt. A small hope that this would not be a one time thing passing through your mind.

Their eyes lit up as if they had just received the greatest gift ever. You then watched as they brought their hands up in front of you and played rock, paper, scissors. 

“Really? You cannot be ser–”

Your words were cut off as Wooyoung's scissors beat Yunho's paper and he was moving in. His hands move to the edge of your skirt, quickly finding the zipper. Yanking it down and off, you gasp as the colder air hits your damp panties. 

“Look at you, already this wet for us?” He teases lightly as his fingers lightly traced over the wet patch in front of him. His eyes moved up your body, watching your chest move with each shaky breath. 

“Barely even touched you and you look ready to combust. Gonna take such good care of you.” He spoke softly, eyes moving back to yours for a moment, letting you see his sincerity.

A familiar smirk spread across his lips as his free hand moved to the waistline of your panties. He began teasing the elastic around your hips for a moment. Each pull of the material causing a catch in your breath. His other hand continued ghosting over where you wanted him most, marveling at the wetness spreading. 

“Gonna let me taste you? Let me ruin you for anyone else, bug?” Wooyoung asked sweetly.

Your head moved with a nod, words failing to form at your lips. Not that it mattered, Wooyoung was already moving to slip your panties off before you would’ve been able to say anything. He flung them behind him, not caring where they landed. 

Out of the corner of your eye though, you saw Yunho move toward where they were, quietly pocketing them. 

Your legs spread wider, letting Wooyoung see everything. He sucked in a breath as his finger continued his previous motion of ghosting over your now bare lips. Desire burns in his eyes as he looks at you. 

“Ride my face.” He ordered suddenly. 

“Wha-?” You barely had time to question before he was grabbing your hips and moving you.

He leaned his head back on the seat of the couch. Your hands finding purchase on the back of the couch as your knees settle on the cushions on either side of Wooyoung's face. You heard Yunho move closer, ready to support you if needed. 

However, before you could overthink anything,  Wooyoung was pulling you down. His lips first attached to your clit, sucking as if it was the air he needed to breathe. A moan ripped itself from your throat. Your hips bucked at the feeling, his hands keeping you still for the moment. Pulling his lips away from your clit, his tongue lapped at the sensitive nub. He then moved lower to circle your hole. 

“Oh my, Wooyoung!” You cried, head falling back as he began using his tongue to fuck you. His hands pulled you closer, the curve of his nose perfectly brushing your clit as your hips began to grind. 

“That’s right, bug. Ride my face. Make a mess for me.” Wooyoung mumbled into you, vibrations causing another moan to fall from your mouth. One of his hands moved to your ass, teasing your other entrance with his middle finger. Your hips continued to move on their own, your hands gripping tighter to the back of the couch. 

“Oh, fuck, I'm gonna come!”

His tongue felt perfect inside of you, hitting the spot that had your toes curling. You felt the coil of pleasure tightening as you reached the edge. Your thighs tensing and shaking.

“Come on, give it to me.” Wooyoung ordered, words mumbled as he continued his actions. The vibrations going straight to your core. His finger fully entered into ass, thrusting in tandem with his tongue. 

The coil snapped, sending you tumbling over the edge. A cry of his name on your lips. Wooyoung caught it with his tongue, lapping up your juices and working you through the aftershock. His finger slowly slipped from your other hole. Your eyes clenching shut from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Taste so sweet, could stay down here for days.” He spoke. He then helped you back on to the couch, your eyes slowly opening. “Beat that, puppy.” Wooyoung taunted as he moved away. 

Your eyes moved to Yunho, who was still kneeling on the floor. His cheeks were flush as his eyes trailed over your body. His hand had moved down to his pants where he had pushed them down just enough to free his hardened length. You could see the shine of cum covering himself and his hand, squeezing himself at his base.

As your eyes moved back up to his face, he released his lip from the hold his teeth had on it to give you a smirk.

“I plan to.” He answers Wooyoung as he shuffles closer to you. “Like what you see, pretty?”

Your head moves, nodding before you even process what you're admitting.

“Thought so. Maybe if you're good for me I'll give you a taste. You gonna be good for me, Sweets? Gonna come real hard around my fingers?” He asks, a semi demeaning tone to his words. His head tilts up, so that he looks down on you. His hands move to your thighs, rubbing back and forth, each time getting slightly closer to where you wanted him.

Chocolate eyes found yours as he waited for an answer. Hands staying away from the new wetness pooling. Biting his lip, he moved his face closer to your own. 

“Give me an answer, sweets, you gonna be my good girl?”

“Yes, please. Touch me.” You whimper quietly, opening your legs wider for him. 

“Gladly, pretty.” Yunho spoke, hands finally moved down to your lips. His left moved to rest on your lower stomach. His thumb stretched to circle your clit slowly. His other hand began to tease your entrance, middle finger teasing in and out as his eyes soaked in your reactions. 

“Yunho.” Whines fell from your lips as your hips attempt to chase his finger. Your hands move to grab his forearm to guide him. Yunho gives you a tsk as he pulls his fingers away. His other hand holding your pelvis down. His other hand scoops up both your wrists.

“You’re supposed to be good for me. Hands at your sides, take what I give you.” He orders, a dark glint to his eyes. 

“Sorry, Yunho, please.” You plead, feeling your eyes slightly water from the desire building in your system. Your hands grip the sofa in anticipation. 

“I love it when you beg. So pretty for me.” He mumbles. 

His finger comes back to circle around your pussy before he inserts, not one but two. He doesn’t pause, just sets a slow pace that leaves you desiring more. HIs fingers curl with each thrust, hitting your g-spot perfectly each time. Your toes curl but it’s nowhere near enough to have you coming undone anytime soon. 

“Yunho, more, please.” You begged, hoping he would do something.

A familiar smirk came back on his face as he watches your face contort with pleasure. The sick satisfaction of knowing he had the control over your orgasm and could choose when to exploit it. A whole different side to your sweet Yunho who usually gave you what you wanted revealed. 

“You do realize the goal is to make her orgasm, right?” Wooyoung speaks up after a while. 

Yunho’s eyes roll as you both look at the younger man. His shirt was gone and his hand was down his sweats, working himself up. A dark look filling his eyes watching the scene in front of him.

“I just have to make her come harder, not my fault you forgot to set a time limit.” 

“So you’re just gonna hog her? I have other ways I want to try-”

“The longer you argue with me, the longer you have to wait.” Yunho points out, effectively shutting Wooyoung up for the moment. He then turns his attention back to you, a groan leaving his lips at the sight of you. 

Biting his lip, he increases the pace of his thrusts. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as your eyes flutter shut. 

“Eyes on me, sweets.” Yunho orders, thumb leaving your clit as his hand moves to tug on your chin. Your eyes snap open with a moan as you watch him slowly move his mouth down to where his thumb rested on your clit. His eyes never left yours as his tongue moved to the sensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue slowly began to trace a pattern that took you a moment to grasp. He was writing his name with his tongue, slowly letting each drag sit for a moment before moving on. 

“Yunho!” You moan loudly as your bundle of nerves alights with pleasure, a smirk on his face as he pulls away after the third o. His thumb then returns, this time with even more vigor than before. The intensity causes your hips to buck unconsciously. 

Moans tumbling as you feel your orgasm approach. Hips chasing his fingers’ thrusts. 

Then nothing.

Yunho pulls away, an evil smirk on his face as he does. The glint in his eyes is even darker than before, not something you thought possible. This was the dominant side you suspected but never truly saw. A crueler side that gained pleasure from the control he had over others.

A whine leaves your lips at the empty feeling. Yunho says nothing as he sucks his fingers clean.

“So I won, right?” Wooyoung speaks from behind him, hand still down his own pants. However, there is now an obvious dark stain on the sweats. 

“I'm not done, yet. She'll come harder after being edged.” He explains after releasing his fingers with an audible pop.

Wooyoung groaned at the idea of waiting even longer. Meanwhile your frustration hit a boiling point.

“I'll come harder if you two work together.” You snap, emotions wearing thin from his teasing. 

“Oh? Is that what sweets wants? Both of us going down on her?” Yunho teases, a quick glance back to Wooyoung has him moving. 

Hand now out his pants, he quickly took the spot Yunho made for him inside of your spread legs. Wooyoung’s hand met your thigh, stretching it slightly as his eyes searched Yunho’s. 

The two seemed to silently communicate something, Yunho nodding as Wooyoung moves his face lower once more. Yunho moves after him, placing himself just above the younger man. 

Taking this as his signal to begin, Wooyoung used his tongue to dive back into your sensitive walls. 

“Wooyoung,” The whimper of his name escapes your chest as your eyes stay on Yunho. His eyes stay locked with yours as he licks his lips before moving his tongue to your clit. 

His tongue circles the sensitive bundle of nerves before his mouth latches on to it. He sucks harshly, moans ripped from you as your head falls back against the couch. Your hands move to the back of their heads in an attempt to tug them closer. 

“Wooyoung, Yunho, fuck!”

Tugging at their hair, Wooyoung moans at the feeling. Vibrations of pleasure travel straight up your spine—hand latching down harder. Yunho’s hand moves to your wrist, removing your hand from his hair, he pins it to your side. Opening your eyes, you see Yunho already staring back at you. 

His look tells a promise—that your actions will have consequences, maybe not now but eventually. That look has you clenching down, the pleasure building up once. Tension climbing alongside it as you watch Yunho slowly slide lower. His tongue moving to join Wooyoung’s. 

Their tongues swirl together for a moment before thrusting in tandem into you. Wooyoung moans more at the feeling. Your hand grips Yunho’s wrist, from where his hand still held yours down. 

“Gonna—fuck—come!” You cry as your legs begin to shake around them. You feel the pleasurable coil tighten. Throwing your head back, your orgasm suddenly crashes over you. 

Their tongues continue to lap up your juices, helping you ride through your high. 

Yunho pulls away first, untangling his tongue from Wooyoung’s with a smirk. 

Wooyoung continues to guck you with his tongue. Only stopping once your hand pushes his head away from your oversensitive lips.

“Fuck, can’t get enough of you. I swear.” He then turns to Yunho. “Want another taste?” Yunho doesn't hesitate, nodding. 

Wooyoung quickly moves in, lips colliding with Yunho's in a fierce battle. Their tongues tangle as Woo grips Yunho's shirt. Yunho's hand moves to cup the back of Woo's neck as he presses closer to the younger man. 

The two slowly separate, a string of spit connecting them for a moment longer. A whimper leaving you at the sight of both of them.

“Well, did she come harder?” Yunho asks softly after a moment.

Wooyoung pretends to think for a second. “I’m not sure. What if we tried one more time fully together? What do you say, bug, one more attempt?” His attention turning back to you. 

“Yes, please.” You were begging and nodding before he even finished his sentence. 

Your roommates chuckle as they begin to move. Wooyoung quickly stands to remove his stained sweatpants. Yunho also stands to remove his pants and shirt. The flush in your cheeks returns ten-fold as you take in the sight of their bodies. 

A laugh fills the air, bringing your eyes back to Woo.

“Gonna drool, bug? Should I grab a towel?” 

“Shut up.” You snap with a glare. You move to sit up more as they both approach on different sides. 

“She's already drooling where it matters.” Yunho points out, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“So who takes what? ‘Cause I want her juicy pussy.” Yunho speaks bluntly, his hand finding your thigh and tugging it closer to himself. 

“So do I,” Wooyoung’s hand finds your other thigh, mimicking Yunho’s actions. “Rock, paper, scissors again?” He asks, raising his other hand up. 

Yunho shrugs before raising his hand as well. The two silently bob their hands in front of you before choosing their attacks. Wooyoung attempts a rock but is defeated by Yunho’s paper. 

“Fuck yeah, Wooyoung sit back against the couch.” Yunho orders. 

Wooyoung did as told, grumbling while doing it, but moving none the less. Yunho moved to stand, offering you a hand. 

“Come on, sweets, want you to sit in Youngie's lap.” Taking it, you allowed him to pull you up. Your legs felt weak and you fell into Yunho’s arms, who seemingly expected your legs to not be able to hold your weight alone. 

“Knew you'd eventually fall for me.” He joked, smiling down at you as he helped you move to stand with your back to Woo. 

His hands find the hem of your shirt and move it over your head. Tossing the article somewhere behind him as his attention turns to your bra. His hands grope your breast over the material as you feel the clip come undone by Wooyoung. Letting the material fall from your body, Yunho groans at the sight of your bare body. 

Gently pushing you back, he lets you fall into the younger man's open lap. You sit back far enough for Woo's cock to hit your lips. 

His hands found your hips, helping move your legs to support your position between them. Dragging you across his length, he covered himself in your wetness. Yunho moved in closer, helping Wooyoung lift you to maneuver his cock into your ass. 

The stretch was almost painful due to the lack of prep. However, Wooyoung acted quick, fingers quickly finding your clit to distract you. 

“Doing so good for us, baby.” Yunho spoke softly as he cupped your cheeks, wiping away a single tear that fell from your eyes.

“Almost there, bug, doing so good for me. Fuck, taking me so well. So tight, damn.” Wooyoung whispered in between kisses to your neck. His finger didn’t let up even after you were fully seated against him.

Yunho pulled his hand away to line himself up with your pussy, eyes meeting yours for a moment before glancing down as he began to push in. Your head fell back against Wooyoung’s shoulder with a moan. This stretch more pleasurable with the accompanying feeling of fullness. 

Yunho's hand moves to cup the side of your neck again, bringing your head back up. Lips meeting yours in a soft kiss, giving you a moment to adjust. His mouth then swallows your moans as he begins to thrust. He releases your lips as Wooyoung begins to thrust below you. The two work in tandem, thrusting opposite so that one is always filling you. 

They set a brutal pace, that has you quickly lost in the pleasure of it all. Your eyes rolling back as moans tumble from your lips.

Wooyoung's thrusts were on the wild side. Chasing a release that only you could give him. 

Yunho's more deliberate, hitting that spot that had you seeing stars. Clenching down harder, completely lost to both sensations.

“Feel so good, not gonna last long, bug. Our perfect roommate, gonna come?” Wooyoung asked, his eyes meeting with Yunho’s as you could only continue to moan—brain turned to mush from the overwhelming pleasure.

Yunho’s hand wraps itself more around your throat, bringing your attention back to him. 

“He asked you a question, sweets. Better answer him, I would hate to have to actually punish you.” Yunho growled as he thrusted even harder than before. 

“Yes! Yes, I’m gonna come. Please don’t stop!” You cried out. Wooyoung groaning behind you as his pace became relentless.

“Come with us, baby. Gonna fill you up.” Wooyoung started rambling once more. His hand moves to your clit, beginning to circle it. 

Pleasure rushed through your veins, the familiar coil tightening in your gut as Yunho’s free hand began to play with your breasts. 

“You heard him, sweets. Come for us, make a mess all over our dicks. Sucking me in so good, give it to me.” Yunho ordered a dark look taking over his face. A smirk returning as he doubles his efforts. 

The pleasure built up to a new feeling, one you hadn’t experienced before. Confusion flashed across your face for a moment. 

Eyes locked on you, Yunho saw and grasped what was happening before you even knew. 

“Are you gonna squirt for us? Soak us as you come, baby?” Yunho speaks, hand squeezing your neck just right to have you floating. 

“Oh shit, really? Our perfect girl gonna squirt for us?” Wooyoung gave a slight laugh as his thrusts became erratic. His hands moving to hold your waist to support his movements. 

Moans tumbled from your mouth as your release overtook you. Wetness coating the three of you as Yunho continued to thrust, chasing his own orgasm. Wooyoung didn’t last much longer, a couple thrusts being all he needed before pulling out and releasing all over your back with a loud moan.

“Oh, fuck.” Yunho cursed and growl as he moved his hands to your waist, pulling you closer as he finally came, filling you up with his thick and heavy cum. He slowly pulled out and Wooyoung spread your legs, giving Yunho a better view of his cum filling and leaking put of your swollen pussy. A groan leaving Yunho at the sight. 

Using his middle finger he scoops up some of the leakage, bringing it to your mouth in a silent command. You quickly open your lips, letting him place his finger on your tongue. Sucking his digit clean, your roommates groan as you release his digit with an audible pop.

“Well, that was definitely the hardest I’ve ever come.” You told them after a moment, causing Wooyoung to laugh behind you. Yunho gave a soft chuckle before helping you to the couch. 

“Yeah, but next time I want to be sure I make you come harder than him.” Wooyoung spoke, pointing at Yunho. 

“Next time I need to teach her to follow my directions.” Yunho spoke with a smirk as he looked down on you. 

“Next time?” You questioned softly looking between the two of them. 

“Yeah. I’d hate for this to be a one time thing… unless that’s what you wanted.” Wooyoung spoke. His hand moved to yours, lacing your fingers together as his thumb rubbed the back of your hand. 

“No!” You spoke quickly causing them both to chuckle. 

“Good, cause I have plans for what to do with you. I’ll go grab a towel.” Yunho told you as he left the room for a moment, coming back with said item to help clean. 

“Plus, we need the answer to who makes you come harder.” Woo spoke, wiggling his eyebrows. 

He barely lifted his head when he heard you gasp, the lens of his mask focusing on your figure standing there with wide eyes, wearing only an oversized shirt.

“Wrong window,” he choked, then tried to hold himself up but immediately collapsed again. “Dammit,” he cursed, waiting for you to freak out any second now. 

You could have, but instead you rushed to him and knelt beside him.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Your hands hovered helplessly over his body, trying to see how bad the damage was in the dark. “You need a hospital–”

“No!” He snapped, trying to turn away but failing miserably. “I’ll be fine, I heal quickly.”

“You still need to stop the bleeding,” you countered, folding your knees under your body so you could rest on your calves. “Listen, I can help you. I took some medical courses last year and I have a kit somewhere.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes. He’d saved the city so many times, the fucking world, it was the least you could do to give something back. 

He considered his options for a second, and to be honest he didn’t have many. His body was betraying him, and he couldn’t even get up to fix it himself like usual. 

The blood loss made him nod, and you wasted no time in getting up and finding said kit. The blood loss also made him drift in and out of consciousness as you tended to the wounds on his ribs as much as you could. 

It did not make him less cautious of you though. When you noticed the rip on his mask over a nasty gash on his neck and reached for it, his hand closed around your wrist and even half conscious, his grip was strong. 

“Please,” he whispered. Pleaded. “Keep it on.” 

The fear in his voice made you promise you would. Even if you couldn’t get to that gash properly. Even when he fell asleep on your floor and didn’t wake up for six whole hours. 

The next morning, he opened his eyes and found you sitting on your bed, still staring at him. 

His hands patted his chest, and confirmed his arachnid powers had done its job and healed him mostly. But most importantly, his mask was still in place. With no warning from E.V of it being removed. He learned that you’d spent the night making sure he was still breathing without seeing his face. 

That had been one year ago. 

After thanking you profoundly for helping him, he’d repaired your window, apologized several times, and disappeared into the apartment next door. He then considered moving into another building, but the thought was brushed away very quickly when he remembered the balance in his bank account. 

So he acted more careful instead. For a while, he only turned back home when your curtains were already closed, or he only left the apartment when you had already left for your job (because yes, he absolutely researched the hell out of you after that night.)

Then he moved to the attic of the building. Bigger space, no neighbors, no risks. No you. Or at least he thought. 

Because some nights…some delirious nights he still found your window a few stories down, and the accidental visits became less accidental. When he was too badly injured to care for himself, he came to you, even after you confessed your degree had nothing to do with medicine. 

When he noticed you understood about his equipment malfunctioning, he’d bring it for you to inspect. When he became too reckless with himself you talked his ear off about how being difficult to kill did not make him immortal.

Somewhere along the way, you became spiderman’s friend. 

Spiderman was safer. With you, spiderman was the only part of him he could let you see. Because that was the thing, you only knew the masked superhero. 

He’d spent so much time blocking away his identity, making peace with the fact that there was no longer anyone in the world who would call him Peter and know exactly who that person was. That name only belonged to the people that once knew him, and no longer existed, so he never gave it to you.

Never showed you more than a sliver of skin when his mask rode up or glimpses of his abdomen when you tended to his wounds. He always kept that barrier and you respected it, even on those nights he was too weak to stop you. Even if sometimes not knowing the color of his eyes kept you up at night. 

A promise was a promise. 

Maybe that’s why he kept coming. Why he trusted you with a certainty he couldn’t understand. Why he eventually showed you his new living quarters in the attic and let you spend time with him. Why half a year ago, he added another chair next to his desk so you could work together, or help him when he was out patrolling and needed an extra set of eyes.

“I’m officially the girl in the chair, spidey,” you joked that time as you sat next to him, spinning around in your chair.

He’d gone quiet immediately, his body tensing up enough to make you frown, but then managed a small smile and said you were. You pretended you didn’t notice him being too quiet as he worked on his inhibitor after that. 

He was wearing a hoodie, sweatpants and the mask. Always the mask that didn’t quite let you see through him. After a moment of quiet, you rolled your chair closer to his and nudged his arm playfully. 

“You know I can’t keep calling you spidey forever, right?” 

He snapped out of his trance, and the chuckle that came from under the fabric was unmistakable. 

“Why not?” He nudged your arm back, but still focused on the device he was hunched over. “I like spidey.”

You put your elbow on the desk, resting your cheek on your hand so you could lean a little closer. 

“I like it too, but it feels ridiculous after having my hands all over your body almost every night.” 

The moment the words left your lips, you realized how bad that sounded. He straightened up, turning toward you.

“Wow.” Even if you couldn’t see the smile on his face, the lenses of his mask were quite expressive sometimes. He was amused. 

“That came out very wrong,” you said immediately, before he bursted into laughter. He had been laughing more since you entered his life. “You know what I meant,” you whined, laughing too with heat flooding your cheeks. 

“I think I know,” he chuckled, making you roll your eyes. 

“I’m being serious though,” you added, a little more quietly. “You don’t have to say your real name. Just give me something.”

“Mmm…” he acted like has considering it, going back to tinkering with the piece of metal between his fingers, but then his eyes drifted to the flowers he’d bought that morning, and the name came out of his lips before he could think twice about it. “You can call me Maynard.” 

“Maynard?” You repeated, suppressing a chuckle. “You don’t sound like a Maynard. That’s like an 80 year old man’s name.”

“That’s all I can give you,” he shrugged playfully. 

You had a feeling it went deeper than that, but you’d also learned not to push it with him. 

“Alright. Maynard,” you nodded, “but don’t expect me to use that name unless you’re dying. Guess I’ll stick to spidey for now,” you chuckled, going back to your own work as he hummed in agreement. 

The conversation ended there. With him trying not to think about your hands all over his body in…different conditions. 

Peter didn’t know exactly when his gratitude became longing. He could not identify the moment the friendship, the closeness, or just your smile, shifted into something he craved everyday. 

Despite the mask and the fake name, he knew that after years of being no one to everyone, he had become someone to you. And you had become everything to him. Even if it was behind walls he’d built, you were the person who knew him better than anyone alive.

Which is why, the night he lost control of himself after an unknown dust was thrown at him in a fight, he chose not to crash land into your room. 

Peter hit the floor of the dark attic with a loud thud, as his senses went overboard. His suit was sticking to his body uncomfortably due to the sweat coating his feverish skin. The fabric was intact, with no visible wounds in his body, just that burning sensation of something running through his veins. 

And that dark part of him he’d managed to lock down with the inhibitor, trying to claw its way out. 

“What the…what the fuck is going on,” he cursed, clutching his heaving chest as he panted against the worn wood floors. “I can’t–I can’t breathe…” 

The computer’s monotone voice broke through the silence. 

“You have arrived injured. I’m letting her know–”

“NO!” He cut the AI off, “EV, don’t tell her–”

“Message already sent.”  

He glanced up at the digital clock on his desk. 2:18 am. 

He groaned, grabbing his head when a wave of migraine hit him. He knew what came after that. The black eyes. The desire to break. To take. But this time something felt different. It was like a pull, looking for something or someone…for…for you? 

Oh fuck. 

You were going to come in and you were going to see him like this. No, no–

“Spidey?” You asked from behind the door, knocking exactly twice before opening it anyways.

The air changed the exact moment you walked in, and that something inside him shifted too. It became aware that the only thing it craved to survive was in the room now. 

He needed to get to you. He needed to pin you down and– 

“Don’t!” He managed to scream, holding his hand up weakly when you scrambled toward him. 

You stopped right in your tracks, eyes wide and running all over him, searching for torn fabric, blood, or anything that would explain why he looked like every breath was painful. 

“What happened?” You frowned, when you couldn’t find any source. “Did you get hurt?” 

You instinctively stepped forward, but he waved his hand in front of him again. 

“Stop, stop, stop,” he said quickly, “don’t come any closer.” 

The harshness in his voice caught you off guard, but what sealed the deal was him dragging himself further away from you. It was barely more than a clumsy, desperate crawl, but he managed to put a decent distance between you before collapsing against the side of his thrifted couch. 

He avoided looking at you. The oversized shirt covering your body, the comfy shorts you were probably wearing, the way your hair looked messy from rolling out of bed as soon as you got EV’s warning even if you had work the next morning.

You stayed right where you were, watching him. His suit had always fit him like it was painted on his skin, but every pant made his chest rise and fall beneath the fabric so violently that you wouldn’t be surprised if it ripped at the seams. 

This reminded you too much of the changes that happened in him months ago. 

It started with a sharpened temper, then the heightened sensitivity to everything, the black covering his eyes, and moments during patrol when his reactions became simply frightening for someone who had as much strength as he did. But you were supposed to have stopped it. 

“Is it the inhibitor?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, “is it failing?” 

“I–I don’t know…I was hit with some dust out there,” he breathed. “I think it’s tampering with it…my head is killing me. Everything is too much.”

You nodded, turning toward the workstation. 

“I will check the programming. Just hold on.” Not your best attempt at reassuring him, but he groaned in acknowledgment. 

“EV?” 

The computer woke when you touched the keyboard, illuminating the dark attic in a wash of blue light. 

“Online.”

“Please run a diagnostic on the inhibitor and any possible interference.” 

“Beginning diagnostic.” 

You waited impatiently for the results, tapping your fingers on the desk while you watched him from the corner of your eye. 

Over there, he…he was doing his best trying to breathe. 

This obviously wasn't his first time having sensory overload. When the animal tried to take over the human part of him, everything in the city became impossible to escape. Not a single movement, or sound, or simple existence within miles was unnoticed by him. 

But this time? The rest of the city had disappeared. There were no sirens in the distance, or voices coming through the walls, or every heartbeat in the building pounding in his head. 

There was only you. 

Your rapid heartbeat echoing inside him. He felt every tap of your fingers against the wood, every slight catch in your breathing each time he made another involuntary and pathetic sound from his spot on the floor. 

Your scent…God, your scent filled the entire apartment. 

The scent he found himself coming back to so often that it scared him. He didn’t want the attachment. The possibility of having someone again only to risk losing them again. 

That same scent was making every muscle in his body react in a way he didn’t understand. It made him, and the other him, wanna do things to you he had only dreamed of in his wildest fantasies. Things he wasn’t proud of, things he wouldn’t dare to say out loud, even if he looked at you through the lenses of his mask and you couldn’t see the black in his eyes. 

He pressed the back of his head against the couch harshly. 

This was wrong. So wrong. 

His senses were supposed to consume everything when the change came. Instead, they had fixed themselves entirely on you.

He could feel the heat of your body from across the room as though you were still in front of him. Could remember with sickening detail how soft your hands looked when they reached for him. Could almost feel the burn of the touch that had never landed because he stopped you. 

What if he’d let you? What if he’d felt the way your hands ran all over his body? What if you’d moved them lower, and lower, as your mouth–

“Diagnostic complete.” 

Your heads snapped toward the screen. 

“There’s no external damage affecting the integrity of the device. I detected a foreign biotoxin in the bloodstream that may be bypassing the inhibitor, activating the suppressed arachnid hormones.” 

“What biotoxin?” You frowned. 

“Unknown. No matches found in available databases.” 

Great. He thought. He had no time to take a bath with Yelena Belova to find out what the stupid dust was. 

The screen changed, displaying a model of his nervous system. There were yellow bright lines pulsing quickly, running all the way from the base of his brain down the length of his spine. Something unknown was moving through his blood, altering the part of him he had spent months forcing into submission.

He sucked in a breath as he watched you read the screen. Your eyes were focused, and a bead of sweat made its way down the side of your forehead. 

He suddenly felt the need to lick it off. 

Wanted to run his tongue from the base of your neck to the back of your ear. Wanted to fist your hair and make your heart beat out of your chest from how good he knew he could make you feel–

“The effects remain within his enhanced tolerance. However, prolonged exposure to certain hormones can cause extreme distress without relief.” 

“What hormones?” Your voice, worried and unknowing of his thoughts only made him feel guiltier. 

It took him a second to realize what you asked, but EV threw him under the bus before he could say anything. 

“There’s a significant rise in reproductive hormones. The unknown toxin is inducing a strong mating response in him.”

Mating response. He stopped breathing. 

Your eyes slowly moved from the monitor to him, and he saw the moment your attention dropped lower to the tent of his pants. 

That suit concealed nothing on a good day. On one like this? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck–

He shifted almost immediately, but the movement only worsened the pressure, pulling a helpless groan from his throat that made your pulse jump. You looked away at once, turning back to the computer. 

“Is there a way we can…umm…stop it?” You asked hesitantly. 

“The subject is experiencing severe sexual arousal with a fixation on a nearby individual,” she explained, because fuck him if he wasn’t the unluckiest individual on earth. “Acting upon it can be a positive option to relieve sexual tension.”

He wished the floor would open beneath him, swallow him, and never ever EVER spit him back out again.  

Your pulse was absolutely hammering after that. He caught the sudden change in your scent. There was a sharp spark of surprise, nervousness, and something else beneath it that his altered senses fed on immediately.

You kept your eyes fixed on the monitor, although the data had stopped meaning anything the moment you heard fixation on a nearby individual. 

“Is that what you really feel?” You asked softly after a moment. 

His head fell forward, catching it between his gloved hands. He didn’t know how to answer without making everything worse.

Although, after what EV said, could it really be worse? 

“…Yes.” The word came out rougher than he expected. Yet still not enough for what was happening inside him. “It’s like…I can only feel you. All of you.”

Heat rose to your face once again. 

“What does that mean?” 

Don’t say anything, don’t–

“I can smell you.” Great start, idiot. He cleared his dry throat before continuing. “I can smell your shampoo…the lotion you use…the ink on your hands from your favorite pen.” 

He chose not to mention he could also smell the adrenaline on you. The heat gathering slowly beneath your skin. 

Your eyes dropped to your hands, and under the dim light of the computer, you caught the ink stains in them from your journaling session before bed. 

“I can hear your heartbeat changing every time I speak,” he added. Okay, that one slipped out.  

You swallowed. And god, he felt that in his own throat. 

The suit was suffocating him at this point. He wanted to rip it off as much as he wanted to rip off the fabric covering the goosebumps on your skin. 

“Is it only because I’m nearby?” You asked, gathering the courage to turn your chair to him.

White lenses met you across the room. He dragged in another shaky breath of oxygen made of you as he thought about his next words. He could’ve lied. He should’ve lied. But instead, chemically overwhelmed and stripped of every defense he possessed, he gave you the truth. 

“No.”

His voice was firmer this time. No hesitation in it despite the thousand red alarms pounding in his head telling him to shut up. 

“It picked you–no, I picked you for a reason,” he added. “And it’s not just me. The other…the other me wants you too.” 

His voice went lower on the last part, that told you how much it cost him to admit that. 

The silence following his confession was heavy. For a moment he wished he could read your mind. For all he could feel of you, your thoughts were unreachable. 

His own mind was a mess. The impulses didn’t feel like thoughts anymore, just his body feeding him instructions. 

Get up. Cross the room. Touch her. Breathe her in.

His palms shook with the urge to close around you. His teeth ached with the need to graze your skin. His eyes burned with the desire to see beyond fabric. 

Every part of him seemed convinced that the small distance between you was a mistake he needed to correct. That he needed to breathe you in until his lungs burned. Drag his mouth along the inside of your wrist and taste the pulse there.

He hated it.

He hated that something inside him could look at the person he cared for the most and reduce her to an answer for his pain. 

“EV, how long is this state going to last?” He asked the computer, followed by a weak cough as he clutched his side. 

“Your enhanced physiology is struggling to break down the toxin’s structure. I estimate a time between ten to twelve hours before it’s metabolized. However, neurological collapse is expected before that timeframe.”

“What?” You looked at him. “There’s no way we’re letting that happen. Maybe I can–”

“Don’t even start,” he cut you off, shaking his head profusely. 

“So what? I’m supposed to sit here betting on whether your body collapses on hour three or hour six?” 

“I’ll just pass out, big deal. I’m not putting you in danger because of this. I can handle it.”

“You’re barely handling it now. There’s no danger in trying–”

“You don’t understand what’s happening inside me right now,” he argued, raising his voice. “This other thing, the one the inhibitor controls it’s…awake. That part of me doesn’t think like I do. It doesn’t care if you're scared, or hurting–”

“You wouldn’t hurt me–”

“You don’t know that!” He snapped, his fist struck the floor next to him, hard enough to make the worn wood crack beneath his knuckles. 

The sudden noise made you flinch. He smelled the flash of fear moving through your body for only a second. 

One second enough. 

“Fuck–that is what I mean,” he cursed, covering his lenses with his hands. “I don’t…I don’t know if I’d be gentle. I can’t risk this, I can't…shit, I can’t risk you.”

The words, said with so much pain, and honesty, seemed to settle somewhere deep in your chest. 

“Okay,” you nodded, settling deeper in your chair. “But I’m not leaving you like this. I can’t risk you either.”

He shuddered a painful exhale. His head dropped to the couch again, shutting his eyes in preparation of what the next hours of torture would be. 

Except…he didn’t even last ten minutes. 

The suit was killing him, so he decided he’d be better without it. He reached desperately behind his back, clumsily undoing the zippers that tied the suit together.

He could feel your wide eyes on him as he tugged the fabric off his shoulders, peeling it off his sweaty arms. He groaned when he lifted his hips and the suit grazed his swollen crotch. In a matter of seconds that felt like eternity he managed to break free from the spandex, and threw it away somewhere in the room. He’d undressed down to his dark boxers, mask still in place, revealing the marble sculpture of his body.

You let out a shaky breath from your spot, eyes raking over a body you’d only seen partially. He was covered in wounds most of the time, but this time, he only had faint bruises from the night before decorating his chiseled abs. 

His tight muscles flexed with every rise of his chest, his bulge straining harder the more you devoured him, pressing against his pants, making him curse quietly. 

You noticed, and returned your eyes to the screen to track his vitals. 

He felt grateful that you’d given him that grace, but just you being in that room made it very hard for him to think of anything other than your existence. 

Too hard. 

Before he knew his hand drifted down the growing ache in his crotch, trying to feel some relief, but every rub he made over the fabric of his boxers sent a jolt of pain through his body instead of pleasure. 

It only made it worse when he realized you were tense at the desk, trying very hard to keep your focus on the screen and not on the whines he was letting out. 

“…I’m sorry,” he apologized instantly, breathlessly, moving his hand away. “I didn’t–”

“Don’t apologize,” you shook your head quickly, eyes still on the screen. “You…you can do whatever you need.” 

He didn’t say anything, just whined in pain again, so you took it as a chance to say it before you regretted it. 

“But my offer still stands, spidey.” 

What a polite way of saying ‘I’d let you fuck me into next week so you can control your horny arachnid hormones, spidey.’

Fucking hell. 

“I’m okay I just–God I didn’t–I didn’t think it would feel this way…” He laughed humorlessly, staring at the ceiling. “But I–I got this. Yes.”

You kept quiet, hearing him mumble to himself about a hundred times about how he had this.

“I’m okay…I’m good…it’s fine…” 

He wasn’t. 

“Fuck I don’t…I’m going to die…”

For God’s sake. 

“I think I can help.”

By the time he registered the words and looked back at you, you had already moved from your chair and shortened the distance between you, kneeling in front of him. 

His senses went from one thousand to one million. He forced his hands behind his back, trying to keep the animal from grabbing you and getting it over with. 

“What–what are you doing?” He stammered nervously, the lenses of his mask going wide. 

“Maynard,” you said quietly, ignoring the way his body tensed up at that name. “Would it make you feel better if I put my hand here?” 

You placed your hand right in the center of his chest, and your cold palm met his overheated skin. He gasped, feeling every individual fingerprint on his skin. He wanted them marked on him. Tattooed. 

His back arched from the couch, with a strangled gasp breaking from beneath the mask. The relief hit him all at once, through a simple contact that felt like salvation. 

Your hand steadied him for only a glorious second, but now that you had touched him, his body knew precisely what it had been denied.

It wanted more.

His own hand closed around yours so suddenly that you almost pulled back, but he loosened his grip the instant he realized how tightly he was holding you. 

“Sorry–”

“Don’t apologize.” You pressed harder. 

He was burning.

The heat beneath your palm scared you, but what scared you more was the violent pounding of his heart beating against your hand so so quickly. 

“Better?” You asked quietly, trying not to bite your bottom lip at the image of him crumbling under your palm. 

“So fucking better,” he said breathlessly, pressing your hand tighter against his chest. “I…dammit–”

“Breathe,” you reminded.

His head fell back against the couch. Chest rising up and down, up and down, up and down. 

Just take her, man, she’s right there–

Your free hand accidentally brushed his neck, right where the border of the mask started, snapping him right back. He grabbed your hand, not harshly, but firm enough to make your breath hitch. 

“Please.” Was all he said. 

Leave it on. 

It brought you back to that first night he’d crashed into your life. 

“I wasn’t planning on removing it,” you whispered, leaning closer. “You can keep it on. But let me help you…I really want to.”

See? She wants it. She needs it so bad. 

He hated that the other guy was right. He knew you meant what you said because he could smell the proof pooling between your thighs.

Fuck it.

In a sudden movement he reached for your waist, dragging you forward so you were straddling his lap. The bulge you landed on made you gasp, hands instinctively grabbing onto his sweaty biceps for balance when he let out a broken groan that vibrated against your core. 

His hand cupped your jaw, bringing it closer to his face, and your dilated pupils reflected on the white of his lenses. 

“I can feel that you want this,” he mumbled, tilting his head to the side. “Please, say it again…”

You shifted your hips, barely, so minimal yet he felt it travel through his whole body. He hissed, tightening the grip on your jaw. 

“I want this,” you repeated firmly, moving your head closer to his ear. “You can take whatever you need…”

You moved your hips again, more deliberate this time, pulling a broken whine from him. The toxin made every contact feel like electricity racing down his spine, straight to the heavy, aching weight of his cock under you. 

“Yes…yeah just like that…” he panted. “Just let me…”

His hands landed on your waist, moving you back and forth at a quicker pace over his bulge. You gasped at the friction, fingers digging into his shoulders, while he let out a collection of muffled words you could barely understand. 

“...M–more…” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. “I can’t–I need…”

“What do you need? More what?” 

“More contact.”

His hands left your waist to grab the hem of your shirt. 

“Can I?” He whispered.

You nodded eagerly, gasping when his hands shifted to the collar of your shirt instead, ripping it off your body with a sharp pull. 

“Oh fuck,” he cursed when he realized there was nothing under that shirt, and saw your nipples hardening instantly under the cold air. 

He resisted the urge to bite them through the mask. 

His hands, however, wasted no time to cup your breasts with a broken whine. His thumbs played with your nipples, tugging at them as hard as he could allow himself to without hurting you. 

“Fuck you’re perfect…you’re so perfect…” he whispered, more to himself than you, pulling some soft whimpers out of you when he tugged a little harder. His hands drifted to your lower half, to the hem of the last piece keeping your body from his greedy eyes. “These too,” he said, “please, can I? I want to feel you.”

“Yes,” you nodded, already out of air. 

You didn’t even know why you tried to get off his lap to take the shorts off properly, when he just did the same as the shirt: ripped it in half where it rested on your hips, yanked it off from your body and threw the ruined pieces far away. 

You weren’t wearing anything underneath. 

“I can smell you. God, I can smell you. You’re so–oh God…”

Now he could feel your wetness drenching his boxers, dripping onto the fabric. He could almost taste it in his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to drown in it for hours. 

“Can–can I–?”

You didn’t even let him finish, you grabbed his hand and placed it right between your legs. 

Water. He found water in the middle of the dessert. 

His hand moved carefully through your wet folds once, twice, delighting in your warmth, the way you felt, the way you let out the prettiest sound he had ever heard in his miserable life. 

“Fuck…” you cursed softly, moving your hips eagerly when he kept stroking slow. Too slow. “Touch me, please.”

He obliged, fingers finding your clit in movements that had you gripping his shoulders tighter, eyes fluttering shut so beautifully he had to bite his lip to not let out a pathetic sound. 

“Been wanting this,” he mumbled. “Longer than today. Longer than tonight.”

His finger slid inside of you, making you moan when he curled it just right. 

“There were…there were nights I thought about you riding my hand,” he kept going, voice cracking as he added a second finger, stretching you more. “I’ve wanted you for so long–not just because of this shit in my blood. Because it’s you.”

Every word made you clench around his fingers. Every admission pulled another shaky moan out of your throat. You were a mess already, breathless, hips rolling down to meet the thrust of his fingers. 

“Oh my God–don’t stop, please don’t stop–”

“Not stopping, baby.” 

He kept working you open, the white lenses of the mask never leaving your face. His free hand slid up your chest, settling between your breasts. 

“I’m–I’m close,” you managed. “I’m so close–”

“Come on…you’re perfect. You’re so fucking perfect like this.”

The heel of his palm lifted to press against your clit. You were right there, right on the edge, about to come on his hand and drip down his boxers–

“Please,” he begged, unable to keep it in. “Let me fuck you after this…please. I need to be inside you. I’ve needed it for so long–just let me, after you come, please, please–”

The plea undid you.

You came with a broken cry, stopping your movements as your walls pulsed around him. The sound you made against his shoulder nearly finished him right there. 

It took you a second to just breathe again, your chest synching up with his in the search of oxygen. He kept rocking his hand slowly, not just to work you through the aftershocks, but because the friction of your pussy in his hand brought the tiniest relief to him. 

You just stayed there as the last soft waves rolled through you. 

Once you were able to see clearly again, you let out a breathless chuckle and straightened back up. 

He needed you. He needed you so badly you really thought he was going to die if you didn’t help him. 

You placed one hand on his chest as the other reached under you, slipping inside the fabric of his boxers without breaking eye contact. 

The second your bare fingers brushed him, his hips jerked hard under you. 

“You said please,” you whispered breathlessly. 

You wrapped your fingers around him and pulled him free.

His cock sprang out, heavy and flushed between your bodies, so thick and hard and painful. The head was red and shiny, with precum dripping down the vein that ran along his length. The tip brushed the skin of your stomach, leaving a warm, wet patch that made the hair on your arms go up. He could smell the small flicker of intimidation sparking inside you, but the want that followed was stronger. 

You stroked him a few times, slowly just as he’d touched you at first. 

“Oh my God, your hand–your hand–”

Another thick bead of precum welled up and spilled over your fingers. Whether it was the toxin or just his enhanced physiology, he was dripping for you.  

Flustered wasn’t enough of a word when you had his leaking cock in your hand. 

His hands slid down to your hips, gripping tighter, guiding you up as if he was about to lift you then pulling you back down immediately. 

Fuck her. Fuck her right now. 

“Please, I need–I need to feel you…” he cried out. “Let me…let me…”

You nodded just as desperately, lifting yourself up as he helped, steadying you with shaking hands until the thick head of his cock nudged against your entrance. You both exhaled hard at the same time when you started to sink down, taking him inch by inch.

He was big. Almost too much. The burn of it made your breath hitch, but the way he cursed under his breath multiple times, completely at your mercy, made you keep going until he was buried balls deep.

You sat there for a moment, breathing heavily, and so full of him. 

When the initial sting faded away, you started moving. He let you set the pace as you adjusted, holding back his need of thrusting up. His fingers dug on your skin, not lifting just holding you, but the more that you moved, the more that control started to waver. 

He could feel it coming. The change. 

You kept moaning, bouncing on top of him, completely unaware of his self restraint crumbling away. 

His grip slowly tightened when his eyes began turning completely black under his mask. That careful, pathetic boy who’d been begging disappeared beneath something more…primal. 

Fuck. Whatever had been holding him back finally snapped.

The next thing he knew, his hands slid under your thighs with sudden strength. He lifted you up in one motion until only the thick head of him remained inside you, held you there for a second as the last part of him tried to remember how to be gentle–then snapped his hips up hard.

That first thrust pulled a sharp moan out of you, but there was no chance to adjust this time. He set a relentless pace almost immediately, using pure strength to bounce you on his cock while he drove up to meet every drop of your body, buried so deep it stole your breath every time he bottomed out. 

“Oh my–May…Maynard–” the name you barely used on him slipped out in the middle of the frenzy, but his hand reached behind your head to pull your hair back slightly as he kept thrusting up. 

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped, his voice so different from just minutes earlier. “It’s Peter. Call me Peter when I’m inside you.” 

He didn’t even give you time to process, still lifting and dropping you onto his cock at the exact hard rhythm he wanted. The only one that satisfied the need inside of him. Your hands instinctively reached for the edge of the arm of the couch he was leaning against, fingers digging into the worn fabric as he hit that spot inside you over and over again. 

“Of fuck…Peter–fuck…yes…”

“That’s better,” he approved. “I was right, you’re so so perfect…taking every inch like you need it as bad as I do…”

A desperate sound slipped out of you at the praise, he could feel your walls clenching tight around him as your body went for that second orgasm, your eyes were fluttering shut, almost there–

“Nuh–uh,” he denied immediately, stopping mid thrust, holding you pressed against him as you gasped, surprised and confused. 

“What–what happened? I was about to–”

“I want you to hold it for me. I know you can.”

That twisted part of him enjoyed the slow realization on your face. 

Even if you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew the same spiderman he’d been without the inhibitor, was the one with your body at his mercy now. 

Good. 

He stayed buried to the hilt for a moment, breathing hard behind the mask. When your breathing finally slowed down and accepted that the high never came, he stood up. Still inside you, he walked you to the bed in the corner of the room. 

His bed.

He pulled out with a wet sound that made both of you groan, then laid you down roughly near the edge of the mattress. He kneeled down, strong hands hooking behind your knees and dragging your legs over his shoulders, folding you open for him completely.

“Look at the ceiling,” he ordered. “Don’t look at me.”

You obeyed, staring up at the wood beams high above you while he tugged the bottom of the mask just high enough to free his mouth. 

Peter leaned down and pressed a few soft kisses to your swollen folds. He wasn’t necessarily eating you out, just giving a few loud smooches that felt good enough to make you grip the sheets. 

“M’sorry, you were so perfect there…” he mumbled condescendingly against your most sensitive spots. “But I need you to hold on a little longer. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. Maybe too eager. Maybe too pathetic. Just like he’d been. Had he pumped that toxin into you? 

Either way, you didn’t care. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like this version of him. 

He laughed right over your clit when you moaned loudly, after he moved his tongue in a slow, torturous swipe over it. 

“Was back there too much?” He cooed. “Maybe I just need to stretch you more...”

Two fingers slid inside you, so easily, but the sudden stretch still dragged a whine out of your throat. He curled them immediately, finding the spot that made your hips jerk. 

“Peter…” 

“Huh?” He acted coy, pumping his fingers with a rhythm that kept you right on the edge without letting you tip over. He added a third finger, making your back arch from the mattress. “Keep holding it in.”

Every shake of your body fed the stupid toxin inside him. Having you like this…really trying to keep your body from coming apart because he said so. 

God. He was never going back. 

“You just took my cock. I think you can take three fingers with no problem.” 

He kept the same relentless pace, chuckling when your body started twitching again. 

“Shhh, you’re perfect, absolutely perfect…”

“Peter…” you called out again, hand dropping the sheet to find his shoulder instead. “I need…need…”

“Need what?”

“Need you inside me…please I won’t–I won’t hold for much longer just–fuck me.”

He stopped altogether, a smirk you couldn’t see stretching the corner of his mouth. He pulled his fingers out with a wet pop, licking them clean before tugging his mask back in place and standing up. 

“Yeah?” 

Your legs dangled off the edge of the bed for a moment before his hands gripped your hips and turned you over. He moved you higher up the bed, grabbing one of the pillows, and shoving it under your hips, tilting your lower body up for him. 

He then climbed onto the bed behind you and knelt between your spread thighs, the mattress dipping under his weight as one hand stroked down the length of your spine. 

But something made him stop. 

“This fucking mask–” he cursed under his breath. “It’s suffocating me.”

The sweat on his forehead had pooled under the mask, making it so sticky over his eyebrows that it was affecting the lenses he was trying to see you through. 

“I need you to be a good girl for me,” he added breathlessly, yet still commanding enough. “Keep your head on the mattress. Ass up. Don’t turn around.”

You nodded. Too eagerly again. Couldn’t care any less again. 

He didn’t think twice, just yanked the mask off and tossed it aside. It landed near you, making you bury half your face on the sheets as if staring at the mask alone would be disobeying his commands. 

The sound he made when the cool air hit his face was pure relief. He swiped the sweat off with his forearm, finally seeing you clearly. Face down. Eyes squeezed shut. Already clutching the sheets. 

“You look so pretty like this,” he mumbled. “All spread out for me…waiting.”

“Peter…” you whined, lifting your ass slightly from the pillow. 

“I know, I know. You’re okay.” He couldn’t keep the smirk away when he added, “you said please.”

He reached between you, guiding the thick head of his cock between your thighs until it nudged against your entrance. You were still soft and ready and perfect. 

Peter pushed in slowly, letting you feel every inch as he sank deep and deep and deeper. 

He braced one hand beside your head and kept the other on your hip, pushing you into the mattress as his thighs hit the back of yours. Slap. Slap. Slap. The position left almost no space between your bodies, with Peter pressing his chest against your back. 

“Fuck…you feel so good like this…so pretty taking me.”

He kept going, making the mattress creak and the base of the bed hit the brick wall repeatedly. Your desperate moans ran through his body like electricity, making something inside him crack open again. 

What? What is–

The moment his rhythm stuttered, he shook his head, trying to clear it. Beads of sweat flew from his hair to your back. 

“God–you…you’re making me–” The roughness of his thrusts slowed down immediately, inhaling a sharp intake of air as he felt the change again. “I can’t, I can’t…”

He lifted his gaze to the window behind the bed and noticed his eyes had turned back to its original color. 

“Oh my god,” he gasped, stopping altogether. He straightened up, still kneeling and inside you, but panicking. “I’m…I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened I–“

“Peter!” You cut him off, pushing yourself back, closer to him, without turning around. “Shut up and fuck me.”

The order left your mouth breathless, pushing back against him even more to make the point clear. His hands twitched when they gripped your hips again. 

“Okay, okay…” he panted, groaning when you dropped back on the bed and his cock almost left the warmth of your pussy. “I’m sorry–if I was too rough, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

He picked up the pace again, but the words tumbling out of him now were pure pleading Peter again. 

“Don’t turn around–don’t turn around–fuck, fuck…” slap, slap, slap. “You can come now. Please. Please, I want to feel it–you’d come apart so pretty on me, I know you would…pleasepleaseplease–”

His final permission and the desperate way he said it made you crash harder than the first time, crying out into the mattress. The second he felt you coming around him, he knew he couldn’t last much longer either.

“Can I–inside…please, can I??…let me fill you up–”

“Yes–inside, Peter, do it inside me…” 

He buried himself to the hilt with a strained groan and finally came. The orgasm tearing out of him was harder and longer than anything he’d ever felt, holding you there, filling you up. 

You gasped against the sheets, breathless, as the waves of cum seemed to go on forever, flooding you with warm and thick ropes in every spurt as he emptied himself inside you. 

“Thank you…thank you…” His forehead dropped between your shoulder blades, sending broken gasps against your skin as he kept coming. “You are so perfect–fuck…so perfect…thank you…”

The pollen wrung him dry until he could barely breathe, and even then he kept rolling his hips weakly, chasing the last of it while he slowly softened inside you. 

When it finally eased, the pain, the need, the hunger…he pulled out slowly with a whine, and half collapsed over you. His arms held most of his weight as he planked above you, but you could feel every ridge of his muscles brushing your sweaty skin. 

Peter’s eyes fluttered shut, feeling exhausted and aching in the best way, almost lulled by the sounds of your agitated breaths. 

You both felt the warm trail of liquid leaking out between your bodies and neither of you moved or said anything for a while. He could’ve stayed like that forever, really. With your naked body under him, no masks, no barriers, just your swollen pussy leaking out his seed–

“Successful ejaculation brought down the arachnid hormone levels immediately. Inhibitor working within regular parameters now. Congratulations, Peter.” 

EV’s monotone voice cut through the silence. 

It took two seconds of shock before you both broke into breathless laughter. His teeth grazed your back as your bodies vibrated in sync from the amusement and overall flustering after everything that happened. 

“Thank you, EV,” Peter muttered. 

“You’re welcome. I gathered data and the released semen volume exceeds standard parameters by two hundred and twenty six percent due to the high hormonal concentration. Hydration, clean up and rest are advised.”

“For fucks sake…” Peter cursed under his breath. 

“Oh god…” you mumbled against the sheets. 

That was your call back to reality. 

Peter felt you move under him, reaching blindly to the side until your hand found the mask. You lifted it over your shoulder, offering it to him without looking. 

“I don’t want to,” he said, too quickly, then cleared his throat. “I…I don’t want to put it back on.” 

“Then I’ll close my eyes,” you offered instead. 

“No–I mean…you don’t have to. I don’t want to wear it around you anymore. Not after…all of this,” he admitted sheepishly. 

“But you told me to not turn around,” you reminded him, dropping the mask on the mattress again. “And that was you, not the darker you.”

He chuckled, nodding even if you couldn’t see him yet. 

“Yeah, because if I saw your face while I was balls deep inside you I would’ve busted before you came.”

There it was. He said it. No turning back now. 

At least it got a chuckle from you too. 

“Listen I…I meant everything I said. Everything. The wanting, the nights I thought about you,” he confessed. “I don’t want you to feel like I just used you when…when there was always a reason why I needed you like oxygen tonight.”

Your breath hitched, and his hand found your waist, pulling you closer to him, and when you didn’t push away…he exhaled in relief behind you. 

“So maybe…you can turn around now. If–if you want to. Know the real me.”

“I would really like that,” you whispered without hesitation. 

You tried lifting yourself up to turn around, but he did most of the job, moving away the pillow he had placed under you and helping you roll onto your back. You closed your eyes, at least until you were facing him completely, and took a deep breath. Holding onto his biceps for moral support, you finally opened them again. 

Seeing his face for the first time felt so intimate, even after everything you just did. 

There he was. The same guy who just fucked you into next week, looking more shy and boyish than you could’ve ever imagined. 

Brown eyes. Dark, curly hair sticking to his forehead. A nervous smile tugging at the corner of his gorgeous mouth. 

So young. So earnest. So yours. 

Not spidey anymore. Just Peter. 

Your Peter. 

Thank you so much for reading 🤍 I used to write Peter so much back in the day (shoutout to my starktonyx era) and I’ve missed him dearly.

Feedback is always appreciated 🕷️

Divider by @andromeda-graphics