#sunwoo

Your body was relaxed, leaning ever-so-slightly back against the bleacher behind you. Your hand came up when a particularly bright ray shined through the dark leaves of late spring and you blocked it. Then, just as you were about to let it fall back down, your attention caught on one particular member of the team, when a shout of victory wafted into your ears: Kim Sunwoo. 

He was the main character of your daydreams, racing heartbeats, and physical ache. You knew it was stupid to be caught in his grasp, like the rest of the school was. You knew you weren’t special in the way you’d look at him longingly—so desperate for any kind of appraisal from the athlete. 

However, unlike the rest of the female (and male) population, you were contemptuous with your delusion over him. Even if it was an unrequited love, you were closer with yourself—and schooling—in its result. Your parents definitely weren’t complaining with your top-student status and class president tasks.

It seemed like a win-win, but still, you sometimes caught yourself wishing for more in the loneliness of the night, when your mind was the best at focusing on things it shouldn’t. You’d imagine things you’d rather keep in the depths of your archives. Secrets you were prepared to take to the grave: everyone loved Sunwoo, but no one knew you did as well.

The prejudice was that you were too caught up in said studies to even look up, especially not in his direction. You had only a couple of friends, ones you truly trusted with your life, and even they had no clue about your feelings for the soccer player.

You watched his celebration, a fist pumped into the air and a bright smile that caused a blush to litter your cheeks. In moments like these, you were glad he really had no idea you existed when you weren't standing right in front of him. He high-fived the team members, walking over to the sidelines and throwing a small towel over his shoulder. 

It was honestly a little pathetic the way you couldn't peel your eyes from the way his muscles strained against the spandex of the shirt, or the way the sweat would roll down his perfectly sun-kissed skin. The softness of the genuine smile that pressed against his mouth and up into his eyes, the ones that flirted so effortlessly with his slow and cool mannerisms. 

Genuinely, when he looked so good, it made it hard for you to not drift off into another fantasy, one where he’d walk up to you and sweep you off your feet like a prince in a fairytale…and, he always looked this good. 

You huffed out a breath, one you weren’t even sure if you were holding or not, and crossed your legs over one-another. You narrowed your eyes (in some weird attempt at zooming in), swearing you could see the man of your dreams—and reality—walking in your direction. 

He flashed a devilish smile, you weren’t convinced was meant for you, breaking from the teammates he’d been walking with. his eyes met yours, and for a moment you thought you were asleep—or dead. 

frankly, you think this scenario would suit a chuckle from the athlete who watched your eyes go wide as he further approached.

he took a long drink from the bottle in his hand, holding said eye contact as he lightly swallowed. you mimicked him with a dry throat, admiring how his adamsapple bobbed with each gulp. 

he straddled the bench, setting his things between his open thighs. “y/n?” he asked as he raked a hand through his sweaty hair. you couldn’t look away, like a must-watch thriller that you’d spent your hard earned money on. you could feel the way your heart rattled your ribcage, just aching to escape and feel his against it. 

an audible hum left your lips in reply. you could feel the heat that radiated your features and spread throughout your body. and, you knew, despite opposition, that he could see its pink shade.  

the one-sided tension was suffocating. you shifted uncomfortably—or maybe in some desperate attempt to ease the ache—and clasped your hands together. then, once again, he smiled at you. your heart didn’t know whether to shatter or melt in the presence, which you’ve only been able to see up close a couple of times. 

“your place or mine?” 

you wouldn’t have believed the way your eyes could grow three-sizes larger than they already had previously. 

“w-what?” you choked out. 

he chuckled at your flustered state. “ms. park posted the partners for the group-projects.” he stated matter-of-factly. “and, guess what class president?” you all but asked what; gulping loudly, tensing your legs together, as well as your fingers and lips. “we’re partnered.” 

you wanted to play it cool, but the excitement at the revelation was fast-approaching. you’d never had the opportunity to see him outside of school—and granted, it was still over school-work but, a win was still a win in your book. 

“o-oh!” you ragged out along with a shaky breath. “right, i was waiting until after practice to ask you about it.”

you lied.

you had no idea that the groups were announced. you just spent your free-time on this bench pretending to do work often enough that it seemed reliable.

his eyebrows rose, like he could see right through your antics. it was honestly a little intimidating; or maybe that’s not exactly the right word to describe the feeling hot-spotted in you.

he glanced back at the field momentarily, watching the rest of his teammates leave the outlined grass. “whatever you say, class president, but i knew exactly where to find you… except on wednesdays.” the undertone was something you couldn’t read, just out of your depth, but still plunged you further into curiosity. “we’ll go to my place then, and i’ll shower while you get started. how’s that sound? practice is done anyways.”

you wanted to protest his offer, but there was something intoxicating about seeing his room and smelling the cologne that lingered in the air. the shampoo and body wash that would waft out to you. you’d dreamt about it, and simply, you wanted to see if it was anything like the picture you painted in your head.

“i can just meet you later—you can shower in peace.” you started to pull the phone from the bag at your side, opening it, and holding it in his direction. “maybe, in like two hours?”

he took hold of the machinery. “what’s the fun in that? you could’ve joined me if you got too bored.”

you laughed painfully, shifting once again at the heat between your thighs. you wanted to accept the offer more than anything, however you know you shouldn’t.

but, what was the fun in that?

“a shame.” he chuckled lightly, holding the phone back out to you after inputting his number and texting himself the address. “i’ll see you then, y/n.”

it was the exact house number you were now staring at, eyes shifting between the text on your screen and the apartment door. it had been a little over two-hours, you having to hype yourself up before you left. and you had decided to relax by taking a bath as well, getting a little carried away with your imagination—which ultimately caused you to be late as well—but, you didn’t think delinquent-athlete, sunwoo, would care all too much.

“you could’ve knocked,” you hadn’t realized the door was now open, revealing the dimly lit (because the curtains were closed and it was approaching 6pm) living space. “or called.”

“s-sorry. i wasn’t sure if this was the right place.” you watched as he moved aside, creating just enough room for you to brush past him, giving you an oh-so desired smell of his cologne.

you cursed yourself for getting so worked up over the little things he’d do, but now you were finding it hard to believe that that wasn’t his intention. he kept you coming back for more, and you were always eager.

“do you want any water?” he asked, watching your frame stand awkwardly in his living room. “my rooms over there, i have a couple of things for you.”

you choked again. “f-for me?”

he laughed. “to use on the poster, y/n.” and he mumbled something after that you weren’t able to catch.

your head panned as he walked to the kitchen, ears listening to the light rattle of glass cups and running water. you plastered your hands to one another politely, scanning over the couple pictures sunwoo did have laying about; his apartment only had the necessities. the few pictures were ones of a younger girl, who you assumed to be his little sister—who he obviously loved enough to display. but you thought there must’ve been more to them, to him, and deep down you knew you’d like to find out one day; to comfort him in his time of need. to be his.

sunwoo came back, two glasses in his hands as he motioned for the closed door on your left. “you can open it, i’ve got nothing to hide from you.”

you don’t know why those words made you blush, maybe it’s because they’re from him, and anything from the athlete is enough to send you reeling.

your hand trembled as it reached to the knob. “oh, okay.” you said, trying to block it with your body. “i was thinking we could start with reading the book a little bit more, to familiarize ourselves with the data before making the final draft. that’s if you don’t mind?”

the door swung against its hinges, making the site of a dark, but minimalistic room meet your view. you took in the smell of cologne, but it didn’t seem to be overpowering like he had just sprayed it around carelessly. his bed was neatly made, black sheets and black pillows placed meticulously: as if a house keeper had been around to do it for him.

he placed the glasses against the wood of his nightstand, a charger and lamp being the only other decor on it.

he pressed the lamp and illuminated the room just a little more. “not confident, class president?”

“that’s not it,” you blurted out, his brows knit and arms crossed as he awaited your explanation. you could barely look in his direction, biting your tongue to not say: i just get flustered enough to forget around you.

“i, uh, it’s just that… nevermind. let’s begin!”

he huffed out another laugh, his actions too fast for you to process as his hands met your shoulders, pushing you to sit on his bed.

your eyes seemed to be in a perpetually widened state, but you found it telling that you put up no protest. the bag on your back made it into your lap, and you unzipped it, taking out multiple pens, markers and whatnot to make a decent poster. sunwoo had grabbed a paper, putting it on the floor and holding out his book for you to take. your hands brushed as you accepted it, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

you began to lay a couple of your class-taken notes onto his bedding, and sunwoo made his way around to the other side. he plopped down onto his stomach, making you bounce slightly.

“you know, class prez, people think you’re scary. you’re always studying, you barely look up, and when you do it’s to tell people off because they’re interrupting said studying.” you tried to read over the notes, but found it hard to ignore the harmonies within his voice. and that your leisure-clothes were getting too warm around your skin. “but they don’t know you, i guess. you’re smart but i bet you know how to have, at least, a little fun, don’t you? and, it’s no secret the school thinks your looks are top-tear. it’s just a shame you reject everyone that asks you out. it’s a waste of your time, i presume. anyways, that’s enough. let’s get started, shall we?”

“w-why?” you asked in such a hushed breath that sunwoo barely heard it. and if he lived with anyone else, or if a car or plane went by at the perfect time, he wouldn’t have. “why is that a shame?”

“because you are beautiful, y/n.”

fuck your clothes, your skin was getting too hot against you. your breath was labored, and now the words on the paper were congregating. you couldn’t focus with sunwoo next to you, and that’s exactly what you feared.

why’d you have to ask? curiosity did kill the cat.

the way you shifted didn’t go unnoticed by the athlete and he let out a chuckle that should just be his signature at this point.

he sat up now, burning his eyes into the side of your head. “what’s wrong, y/n?” he asked, but you refused to look away from the notes, even if you couldn’t get your mind to read them. “has no one ever called you that before?”

you bit your lip, thumbs ripping at the skin around the nail. truthfully, yes, one person has called you that, but it didn’t feel the same as when he did it. sunwoo made your heart beat out of your chest, breath leave your lungs so fast it made you lightheaded. he made you weak in the knees, like you were just jelly to begin with, melting in the sun.

you felt a soft hand reach across you, taking the farthest cheek within his palm and focusing your vision towards himself.

his skin felt like fire against you, but even this smallest touch made you crave more, made you need him in a more than innocent way. and, you were starting to believe his intentions were exactly the same as yours.

your eyes finally focused at the feeling on his hand sliding to rest against the side of your neck, as if he was caressing it, running his thumb over your windpipe gently.

you’d never seen sunwoo so close to your face, but you had imagined it, and it was nothing in comparison. he was beyond beautiful, a sight to see: tan skin untainted by pores and blemishes, soft features like his lips that contradicted, but complimented shaper ones such as his eyes and nose. he was the perfect harmony in your opinion, the perfect—

“god, y/n. i must be crazy.” he broke you from your admiration, breath hitting your lips. “would you treat me any different from the guys who have asked you out in the past?”

god, yes.

your stomach was beyond knots now, the whole damn zoo being let loose. your hands were gripping the sheets at the anticipation that seemed to be agonizing enough to kill you where you sat. in reality, sunwoo wasn’t even doing anything, but he had you at his fingertips, and you weren’t convinced you couldn’t pass out right now.

“fuck, maybe i am crazy…” his eyes flicked to your lips momentarily. “do you want this? i know i’d be interrupting your studying, class president.”

and you don’t know where your confidence came from, but the way you closed the gap was desperate. however, sunwoo put up no protest, and quickly gained control over the situation.

his other palm pulled you by your cheek to deepen the kiss. well, that was until he had enough of the angle you were sat at and gripped your thigh to fully get you onto his bed.

he was a good kisser, a great one in fact, and it made you crave his lips in other places to experience the full effect.

now he was pushing your body by your lower back, trying to get you as close to him a possible, and as if you could read minds, you threw your leg over him to straddle his lap.

he broke the kiss. “good girl.” he said before reconnecting with the skin on your neck, and smiling against it when he heard you whine quietly. you could feel him growing hard underneath you, and wondered if he’d take this all the way, wondered if he wanted you like that. “you do want this, don’t you?”

inside your head you couldn’t help thinking that maybe you weren’t desirable, maybe he was only doing this to prove a point: that the whole school was within his grasp. maybe it was to brag tomorrow, as locker room chatter before soccer practice, because why would sunwoo like you outside of your delusions?

his arms caged you against him, stoping all minor movements and actions. he looked into your eyes, and for a moment it’s like the world had ceased. the only thing you could hear was the thumping within your own chest and the echoes of your doubts.

“do you want me, sunwoo?”

he kissed your lips gently—almost lovingly—before stating. “more than anything right now.”

and you wanted to ask if it was only right now that he wanted you, but you couldn’t will that to leave your lips, as his eyes locked onto your own, mixing like watercolor.

you’d wanted him to want you for a long time, so you hoped it wasn’t only now that he felt the same.

“are you okay?”

your palms now laid against his cheeks, biting your bottom lip, half-nervously and half from feeling his hands curve where the seams of your thighs met the underside of your ass. you pulled him quickly back to you, breaking away only to mumble a quiet yes before being fully taken over by your lust.

he flipped you over quickly, and you found comfort between his soft pillows and blanket. he pushed your thighs apart, slotting himself in between to attach back on your already swollen lips.

his voice came out in a hushed tone, only for you. “class prez, has anyone had you like this? have they seen how perfect you look with messy hair and puffy lips? i bet you’d look so cute crying, wouldn’t you?” you whimpered at the words—the thought—you wanted him to think you were cute, attractive in any way, it was human nature after all; and everything about this was primal. “how far do you want me to go?”

your voice was once again barely audible over your own heartbeat. “whatever you want.”

“yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

you were beginning—ignoring all previous warnings—to feel overwhelmed, his tongue sending you into overdrive. you didn’t know what to do as you felt him ghost his lips on your collar bone, then down over your chest, eventually landing at your stomach. he pushed the fabric up, latching down onto your hip bone, which had you shifting to get any sort of friction on your core.

all his minuscule teasing was actually beginning to feel painful, but he got the hint. you knew he would.

sunwoo grabbed at the waistband on your pants, looking up to you for reassurance, but you just lifted your hips to make it easier for him. he chuckled, pulling both of the fabrics blocking you from him down.

you heard him mumble something along the lines of pretty as he placed open-mouth kisses against your inner thighs.

one thing about sunwoo is that he left you no room to feel self-conscious or embarrassed. he knew how to love you right, (you didn’t want to know why that was) and was determined to show you that.

you might not have believed this was something more than locker-room chatter, but now…

you moaned when he finally attached to your aching clit, sucking gently before alternating between kissing and licking at your slit. your hand covered your mouth out of embarrassment at the sounds that you couldn’t stop from making. truthfully, the last (and only) guy you were with didn’t even make you finish, so you didn’t have to worry about being too loud—or god forbid, annoying.

but, sunwoo hated that you weren’t letting him hear how good he was doing. he wanted the praise just at much as you did, nonetheless he let you continue. he’d let you until you were completely at his mercy, malleable under his touch. he’d let you because that made you comfortable.

and, to be honest, it still fueled his ego.

“c-close,” you managed to mumble through your fingers, eyes squeezed shut and head lulled back. “woo, please?”

and that fact that you had asked him almost made him cum untouched. so, you were his? he thought to himself, before he groaned into your pussy at the feeling of your fingers attaching to his hair, only adding to your pleasure.

the hands squeezing your plush thighs pulled you closer to his face, close enough to suffocate, but he’d die a happy man.

he continued to eat you out like a starved man, only bedrudgingly pulling away right before you had the chance to properly orgasm.

“w-wait!” you tried to push him back, frantically searching for the edge you were just about to topple off. “w-wh—sunwoo, fuck, d-don’t stop. please.”

tears were pricking your eyes out of frustration—the whole thing being so emotionally and vulnerably charged, you weren’t sure you could hold them back. then, shivers were sent throughout your shaking body as he soothed over your sides and stomach with his hands, lips back to their spot on your thighs.

he propped himself up, staring down at the godly figure he never truly thought you’d let him see. and after a minute, you got embarrassed at the strong gaze on your glistening core; your knees coming together.

his fingers slotted between them, pulling your legs apart. “don’t hide from me, baby. you’re so beautiful—god, all for me, right?”

you whined, quickly sitting up and reaching out for anything he’d give you.

sunwoo kissed your lips again, keeping you at his level with a hand on the small of your back and one gripping the hem of your shirt. you were dizzy from the taste of yourself on him, sunwoo only breaking apart to get the fabric up, and fully over your head. he took off your bra and suddenly the realization that you were fully naked in front of the prized soccer captain, while he was fully clothed, sunk in.

you whined again, too drunk off him to formulate anything coherent. he laughed at how desperately you were pawing at his sweats. “what’s wrong?”

you looked up at him. “fuck me?” and if your eyes weren’t the definition of puppy-dog, he didn’t know what was.

he smiled, grabbing your wrist. “patience, baby. i’ll give you what you want.”

you fell back again, opting to obey him because you were honestly too far gone to come up with anything else to do.

and he did, taking off his sweats, along with the rest of his clothes and pressing his body to yours. his lips were connected back to you and you clawed at his shoulders—anything to ground yourself—while his held your torso down firmly.

he looked between your bodies as he lined himself with your entrance. your head was thrown back, and he pressed a chaste kiss to the middle of your neck before mumbling. “you are pretty when you cry, y/n.” and pushing in slowly.

the stretch only burned for a minute until you moaned almost embarrassingly loud with each shallow thrust. a hand instinctively come up to hide them away. but, that only lasted so long until sunwoo intertwined his fingers with yours, pushing them into the bed on either side of your head.

“don’t hide them, baby,” he sighed against your lips. “please.”

and, whether you wanted to or not, you didn’t have a choice. the noises fell freely from your lips into his shoulder, as he sucked and nipped at your neck again.

“i-is it good?” you could barely hear him, your ears ringing with pleasure; was it good? is he stupid?

you choked on a chuckle, feeling him angle himself just perfectly inside you to brush against your g-spot. “holy fuck,”

“right there, baby?” he did it again, taking notes and storing them away in the back of his mind. your head lulled back again, and he watched your face contort, mouth falling open. “does it feel good?” you couldn’t reply, his thrusts only getting harder after that.

you could feel the band in your stomach tightening, and you feared you wouldn’t even be able to tell him you were getting so close, so fast—too fast.

but, somewhere deep-down, he already knew.

“fuck, you feel so good, y/n.” he sighed, lips ghosting over yours. “i must be the luckiest man in the world, right?” it was rhetorical, but even if you felt the need to answer, all that was coming out of your mouth was moans, groans, and mewls. “perfect body—fuck—perfect personality, perfect pussy, perfect fucking mouth,” he grabbed your chin, your free hand now going to clutch into the skin on his arm. his eyes met your tear-filled, and blurry ones. “open your mouth,”

there was a fire within you when you did as he said, mouth falling open. he spat on your tongue, and you didn’t know whether you came right then or just flat-out died.

“swallow it,” he said—no, demanded—almost making it an impossible task by putting his fingers into your mouth, pushing them to the back of your throat, and making you gag around him. he felt you clench harder at the act. “gonna fuck this throat one day, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

you would.

but, he was spewing heated words into a brick wall. “you’re mine, right?” he asked, taking his saliva-covered fingers from your mouth and bringing them between your bodies.

the moment his fingers landed on your clit, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. the hand that was still intertwined with his was losing circulation from how hard your were gripping it, and the other was scratching his perfect skin hard enough to bleed.

no one had ever made you feel so cold, yet so fucking warm at the same time. nothing you've ever experienced has been as intense and kim sunwoo; the delinquent soccer player. you feared no one could ever make you feel like this again.

so, of course you were his.

“look at me, y/n.” he whispered, kissing along your jaw gently—in contrast to the heavy and hard thrusts he kept at a steady rhythm. “c’mon, y/n, be a good girl. please.”

you felt the impending desire to now, head leveling. his forehead then came to rest against it, fighting off your urge to let it roll back again.

he pecked your lips between sentences. “mine, right?” god, he kept asking an obvious question. “be mine, okay? cum for me,” he circled your clit faster, determined to make you finish one last time. “i got you.”

his voice alone was enough to make you topple over the edge, your noises raising a couple octaves. your vision went white, body convulsing under sunwoo, who kept his eyes on your face the entire time; in awe of you. he fucked you through it of course, mumbling praises, before the overwhelming feeling of fire bloomed between you two; disguised by overstimulation.

you mewled. “woo, p-please stop.” he kissed you quiet, slowing down. but, you didn’t actually want him to stop. “h-hurts… just a little,”

his hand intertwined with yours again. “being such a good girl—taking it so well. just a little more, okay? i promise,” he sighed, feeling the way your walls clenched him in, barely letting him pull out, only causing him to thrust harder. “almost there, y/n, where do you want it?”

your legs caged him against you. “fill me up, please.” and you weren’t above begging for it, especially not in a state of post-euphoria. “cum in me.”

he threw his head back momentarily, fighting off a strong urge to start a second round. how in gods name did he get so lucky? he thought to himself, bringing his forehead back to yours.

he locked eyes onto you. “yeah?” you nodded slightly, eyes full of tears you didn’t know if you’d shed. “gonna be so good and take it all?”

you moaned when he started grinding against you, your clit being stimulated by his pubic-bone.

“could fuck you forever.” he admitted. “do you want me to?”

you spewed out a quiet yes, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was being serious—maybe he was. you were too far gone to even begin guessing.

he kissed you again, desperately fighting your tongue with his. he continued to kiss down your jaw and into your neck, leaving glistening marks in his wake. he sucked on your collarbone, finding a sweet-spot you didn’t even know you had, and biting down for a second. your mouth fell open in a silent scream, an orgasm you didn’t even know was there, washing over you.

sunwoo just kept forcing you to learn about yourself—you guess, it’s a good thing you’ve always been known for studying, isn’t it?

your intense orgasm triggered his, a soft groan leaving his lips as uneven thrusts made sure you both were fully satisfied.

you felt fuzzy, brain completely melted under his touch. your heavy breathing mixed with his, his body fully collapsing from exhaustion. however, his weight wasn’t enough to suffocate you, so you let him stay where he was, breaking your hand from his and threading it into his damp hair.

the silence was loud—heartbeats intertwined—as you both came down, the reality about to set in.

would he push you away after this? did he even mea—

“i meant it, by the way.” your eyebrows creased. you weren’t even sure if you had imagined that. and, if you didn’t feel the rumbling of his chest on yours as he spoke, you might’ve believed it was only in your head. “be mine, okay?”

little did he know, you already were.

you whispered out a reply. “okay.”

The neon signs of Gangnam flickered like dying stars above the carnage. Blood had turned the asphalt into a slick, black-red mirror, reflecting the sodium glow of streetlamps and the occasional headlight that swerved away in panic.

Bodies lay scattered in some twisted or some still while all of them wearing the wrong kind of suits for a Monday night salaryman brawl.

Kim Sun-woo lay among them as his back against the cold curb, then his left leg bent at an ugly angle while his right shoulder leaked steadily through the torn fabric of his charcoal Armani.

His chest burned where the blade had grazed ribs. His breathing felt like swallowing glass. His guards, the loyal and stupid boys, were already cooling a few meters away.

The ambush had been clean, professional, and almost admirable. His vision tunneled, black creeping in at the edges as he pressed two fingers to the deepest wound on his chest, and more out of habit than hope.

It's funny how the body still tried when the mind had already cashed out.

Then heels clicked against the pavement. You froze mid-step when the smell hit first when the copper and gunpowder and something faintly metallic like overheated brake pads. Your night-shift brain that is still buzzing from spreadsheets and bad instant coffee became short-circuited.

The bodies, there are so many bodies.

Your phone was already in your hand before conscious thought caught up.

“ 119 emergency…there’s…there’s been a shooting or…or a fight in Gangnam, near the alley by the old pojangmacha…please hurry—”

You hung up, throat tight, and started walking again because standing still felt worse. You checked pulses with shaking fingers, whispering “ Jebal…please…” to no one in particular.

Most of them were gone.

Then you reached him.

He's wearing a dark suit, an expensive watch cracked across the face, his hair matted with sweat and blood, and he was still breathing shallow and ragged, but there.

You dropped to your knees beside him. “ Hey…hey, can you hear me?”

A low groan scraped out of his throat as his eyelids fluttered then his one eye cracked open in black, glassy, and unfocused.

You pressed your palm to the chest wound without thinking. He's warm, too warm. “ You’re bleeding a lot. You need a hospital. Right now.”

He coughed once wet and ugly. “ Can’t…see straight. Just…leave me.”

Your jaw clenched. “ No.”

A weak and bitter laugh rattled in his chest. “ Are you always this stubborn with strangers?”

“ Are you always this eager to die?” You shoot back and you are pressing harder.

“ There are people on ventilators right now begging for one more day, and you’re just going to bleed out on the sidewalk like it’s nothing? Pathetic.”

His lips curved in half smirk and half grimace. “ You sound like a nagging wife already. We haven’t even been introduced.”

Heat crawled up your neck despite everything as you rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “ Yeah, well, if I were your wife I’d have divorced you by now for being this dramatic.”

Another rough chuckle then it turned into a cough that sprayed red across his teeth. His head lolled and his eyes sliding shut again.

“ Hey…no. Stay with me.” You slapped his cheek lightly.

“ Look at me. What’s your name?”

“ Sun-woo…”

The word slurred.

“ Kim…Sun-woo.”

“ Okay, Kim Sun-woo. You don’t get to check out yet. Not when I’m literally holding your stupid stubborn life in my hands.”

Sirens finally screamed closer in red and blue painting the street in frantic pulses as the paramedics swarmed.

You waved them over, voice cracking. “ Him first…he’s losing too much blood!”

They moved fast. Their hands replaced yours then gauze, pressure, and straps. Sun-woo groaned again as they lifted him onto the stretcher. His fingers twitched toward you in instinct, maybe, then fell limp.

One of the paramedics glanced at you. “ You’re riding with him. The police will want your statement.”

You didn’t argue as you climbed into the back of the ambulance while your knees were still trembling, blouse already ruined with his blood.

The doors slammed and the vehicle lurched forward. Sun-woo’s head rolled toward you on the narrow stretcher. His vision was gone now and everything was soft black fog, but he could still smell you.

The faint jasmine from your perfume, coffee on your breath, and the clean sweat of someone who’d been sitting under fluorescent lights for twelve hours.

You're alive and warm and you should not be here.

He tried to focus on your face anyway. The shape of it, the stubborn set of your mouth and the way your brows pinched together like you were personally offended he was dying.

His cracked lips moved. “ Angel…”

You blinked. “ What?”

But his eyes had already rolled back as the monitor screamed one long flat note before the paramedic shocked him back to rhythm. You grabbed his hand without thinking. It's cold and slick with blood.

“ Don’t you dare…” You hissed under your breath.

“ You don’t get to call me angel and then leave. That’s cheating.”

The ambulance barreled through Seoul’s midnight arteries while the lights flashing and sirens howled. You kept your grip on his hand the whole way as your thumb pressed to the faint and the stubborn pulse that refused to quit.

Inside his fading mind, Sun-woo thought absurdly and deliriously that if hell looked like this, maybe he wouldn’t mind staying a little longer.

Just to see how much more you’d nag him.

…

The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and old coffee, the kind of sterile calm that made every footstep echo like a warning.

You sat on the hard plastic chair outside the ICU while your knees still jittered from adrenaline that refused to fade. Your blouse was stiff with dried blood (his blood), and the police officer across from you kept glancing at it like it was evidence.

“ So you just…happened to walk by?” The Detective Tim asked again while his pen was hovering over his notepad. His partner, Detective Taeyang leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and watched you like you might bolt.

“ I finished my night shift. Took the shortcut through that alley to catch the last subway. Then I saw…everything.” Your voice came out flatter than you felt.

“ Bodies. Blood. Him. I called 119. Checked for survivors. That’s it.”

The Detective Tim nodded slowly. “ You didn’t see who started it? No faces?”

“ It's too dark and too fast. I wasn’t exactly window-shopping.” You rubbed your temples.

“ Can I go check on him now? The doctor said he’s stable.”

They exchanged a look. “ Yeah. But we’ll need to talk more tomorrow. Don’t leave the city.”

You stood, legs wobbly, and pushed through the double doors.

Kim Sun-woo looked smaller under the harsh fluorescent light. The tubes snaked from his arms, chest, and nose as the monitors beeped in a lazy rhythm.

His face was bruised purple along the jaw, but the bleeding had stopped. Someone had cleaned the blood from his hair and it fell across his forehead in damp black strands.

The doctor is middle-aged and his eyes are tired behind wire frames as he steps up beside you.

“ He’ll pull through. Fractured tibia, dislocated shoulder, three cracked ribs, deep laceration to the pectoral. Lost a lot of blood, but you bought him the time. Most people would’ve walked away.”

You swallowed. “ I couldn’t.”

He studied you for a long moment. “ You saved Kim Sun-woo.”

You blinked. “ That’s his name. Yeah.”

The doctor glanced toward the door, then back at you.

“ He’s not just some drunk salaryman who got jumped. He’s one of the big ones. Black-hand organizations. Drugs, guns, territory wars that stretch from Busan to Beijing. The men who did this tonight? They weren’t random thugs. They were sending a message.”

Your stomach dropped. “ Wait. You’re saying—”

“ I’m saying you were seen. At the scene. Kneeling over him. Talking to him. If any of his enemies had lookouts or worse, cameras…you’re now on someone’s radar.”

The room felt colder as you stared at Sun-woo’s slack face. “ I just…I was trying to help.”

“ I know.” The doctor’s voice softened and almost pitiful.

“ But this world doesn’t care about good intentions. You stepped into their game. Once you’re in, it’s hard to step out.”

You laughed in short and bitter. “ So what? I should’ve let him bleed out? Left him like trash?”

“ No. But you should know what that choice costs.” He sighed.

“ I already spoke to the police. They’re putting a plainclothes officer on your building for the next few days. Discreet. No sirens. Just in case.”

“ In case someone decides to tie up loose ends.” You finished flatly.

“ Exactly.”

You pressed your lips together so hard they hurt. “ I’m an accountant. I do taxes. I fight with Excel, not…whatever this is.”

The doctor gave a tired half-smile. “ Welcome to Seoul after midnight.”

He patted your shoulder in firm and brief. “ I have rounds. Think about what I said. And maybe…keep your distance after tonight.”

He walked away as his white coat flapped, then the door hissed shut behind him.

You stood there, alone with the beeping machines and the man who’d called you an angel right before he flatlined. Sun-woo’s fingers twitched once while his eyelids fluttered but didn’t open.

You dragged the chair closer and sat.

“ You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” You muttered under your breath.

“ I saved your life and now I’m on some mafia hit list. Great trade-off. Ten out of ten. I would recommend it to my friends.”

His chest rose and fell. It's steady, stubborn, and alive. You leaned forward, elbows on knees while staring at the IV drip.

“ If you die now, I swear I’ll haunt you. I didn’t ruin my favorite blouse and probably my entire life just for you to check out early.”

Nothing.

You exhaled hard through your nose. “ And if you wake up and start with that ‘angel’ nonsense again, I’m unplugging something. Fair warning.”

A faint hitch in his breathing like it was almost a laugh if you squinted. Your heart gave an annoying little thud.

You sat back while pregnant your arms crossed. “ Don’t get any ideas. This isn’t some romantic rescue drama. I’m not your damsel, and you’re definitely not my prince. You’re a walking felony in a nice suit.”

Still nothing, but his fingers curled slightly.

Toward you or maybe just a muscle spasm.

You didn’t move your hand away.

Seoul kept breathing as the sirens in the distance, neon bleeding through the blinds. Inside the room, and the tension coiled tighter than ever. Not just danger, not just gratitude, but something darker and sharper.

The kind of pull that happens when two people who should never have met suddenly share the same air, the same blood on their hands, and the same stupid reckless heartbeat.

You glared at his unconscious face.

“ Wake up soon, asshole.” You whispered.

“ So I can yell at you properly.”

The monitor beeped on, indifferent.

…

One month.

Thirty-one days since the asphalt tasted his blood and your hands pressed life back into his chest. Kim Sun-woo had healed faster than the doctors predicted.

The stitches out in ten days, limp gone by week three while his shoulder is still stiff but functional enough to pull a trigger without wincing.

He checked himself out against medical advice on day fourteen while muttering something about rotting in pastel sheets being worse than any bullet.

His work waited, his enemies didn’t pause, and neither did he.

But you lingered.

Not in his wounds. It's in the hollow space behind his ribs where something hot and restless had taken root the night you called him pathetic and refused to let him die. He remembered your voice more clearly than the ambush in a sharp, exasperated, and alive.

No one talked to him like that, not anymore.

So on the fourth week he returned to the hospital not for a check-up, but for answers. The doctor who’d patched him up was in his office and charting like the world wasn’t built on borrowed time.

Sun-woo didn’t knock.

“ You still see her?” He asked without preamble and leaned in the doorway while arms crossed over the charcoal suit that cost more than most people’s rent.

The doctor startled as his pen skittering across paper. “ Mr. Kim. You’re…looking well.”

“ Answer the question.”

A swallow. “ She hasn’t been back. Not since that first night. She stayed until you stabilized, then left when the police released her.”

Sun-woo’s jaw ticked. “ Her name.”

“ I don’t have it. The police took her statement. She was only here as a witness…companion by their order, not family. Hospital policy doesn’t require ID from non-relatives in those cases.”

Sun-woo laughed once in a low and dangerous way. “ So, you’re telling me you let the only person who gave a damn whether I lived or died walk out without so much as a fucking business card?”

“ Mr. Kim—”

He moved faster than the doctor expected. In one step, then the cold muzzle of his Glock pressed under the man’s jaw and tilted his head back against the chair as the doctor’s clipboard clattered to the floor.

“ How dare you talk back to me like I’m asking for restaurant recommendations?” Sun-woo’s voice was velvet wrapped around razor wire.

“ I could paint this office with you right now. One squeeze. Brains on the blinds. Easy cleanup.”

The doctor’s hands flew up and trembled. “ Please…please don’t. I swear, I don’t know. She was just…kind. That’s all.”

Sun-woo leaned closer while his breath ghosted the man’s ear.

“ Kindness gets people killed in my world, Doc. You should’ve at least gotten a name so I could thank her properly. Or maybe you wanted her to stay anonymous so she wouldn’t end up like you…in pieces.”

A choked sound. “ I…I’ll call the police if—”

Sun-woo cocked the hammer as the click echoed like a promise.

The doctor whimpered. “ I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Sun-woo studied him for a long second in pathetic, sweating, and alive only because he hadn’t yet become inconvenient. Then he laughed again, but softer this time, and shoved the man back into the chair hard enough to make it roll.

“ Useless.” He muttered then he holstered the gun.

“ Next time I come asking questions, have answers. Or don’t bother breathing when I walk in.”

He turned on his heel and left as the door banging shut behind him. Outside, rain had started cold, slanting, and the kind that soaked through expensive wool in seconds.

Sun-woo pulled his phone from his slacks and dialed without looking.

“ Boss.” His right-hand man answered on the first ring.

“ Find her.” Sun-woo said.

“ The woman from the alley. The one who called 119. Police have her name, her statement, probably her fucking address."

" Get it. Bribe them, threaten them, burn the precinct down if you have to. I don’t care how. Just get me the file.”

A pause. “ Are you sure about this? Digging into a civilian—”

“ Did I ask for your opinion?” Sun-woo snapped.

“ Do it. Today. Report back when you have something worth hearing.”

He ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket as the rain plastered his hair to his forehead. He raked furious fingers through it while trying to shove the frustration down with the rest of the things he refused to name.

Obsession wasn’t the right word, not yet. But every night since discharge he’d lain awake while replaying your voice.

“Pathetic.”

"Fight to live."

“I’m not leaving you here.”

The way your fingers had gripped his hand in the ambulance like you had any right to care, and the way you’d blushed when he called you a nagging wife, then rolled your eyes like he was beneath you.

No one treated him like that.

No one dared.

And that, fuck, that was the problem.

He wanted to find you. Not to hurt you. Not even to thank you, not really. He wanted to see if that fire in your voice still burned when you looked at him sober, conscious, and dangerous.

He wanted to know if you’d still talk back, still refuse to let him bleed out, and still call him an asshole while holding his life in your palms.

He wanted to burn.

And he wanted you to burn with him.

Sun-woo lit a cigarette under the hospital awning and inhaled deep as the smoke curled into the rain.

Somewhere in Seoul you were living an ordinary life as the spreadsheets, night shifts, and subway shortcuts. You are unaware that a man who should have died a month ago had decided you belonged in his orbit now.

Whether you wanted to or not.

He exhaled as he watched the ember glow red against the gray.

“ Soon, angel.” He murmured to the empty street.

“ I’ll find you. And when I do…we’re going to have a proper conversation.”

The cigarette hissed as he crushed it under his heel then he walked into the rain while he's already planning how he’d make you say his name like it mattered.

…

Days blurred into the same gray routine. Subway at 7:42 a.m., coffee that tasted like burnt regret, spreadsheets until your eyes crossed, and came home by 11 p.m. if the trains were kind.

The plainclothes officer still parked outside your building most nights with a discreet black sedan, tinted windows, and the occasional glow of a cigarette.

You’d wave sometimes with a sarcastic little salute, but he never waved back.

The witness protection felt more like quiet babysitting than actual danger, and after a month of nothing, there's no shadows tailing you, no slashed tires, and no creepy notes as you’d started to relax.

Maybe the doctor had exaggerated or maybe the mafia had bigger problems than one tired accountant who’d played Good Samaritan.

Then there was Yuan.

Yuan, who refused to understand that “no” was a complete sentence.

He’s half-Chinese and half-Korean, stupidly handsome in that polished and dangerous way. He has a sharp jaw, designer suits, and eyes that looked like they’d seen too much and still wanted more.

He’d been orbiting you for three years. The flowers on your desk, late-night texts that started sweet and ended desperate then the lunch invites you always declined.

You’d told him straight that his world was blood and shadows while yours was Excel and overtime. Oil and water. End of story.

Yesterday he’d gone nuclear.

He was kneeling in the middle of the open-plan office at 3 p.m., velvet box open with a diamond that big enough to choke on while your entire team pretending not to stare while pretending very hard to type.

“ Marry me.” He’d said as his voice carried like he was announcing quarterly results.

“ I’ll keep you safe. I’ll give you everything.”

Heat had flooded your face while your colleagues whispered and someone coughed to hide a laugh. You’d grabbed his wrist then dragged him into the break room like a misbehaving puppy by slamming the door behind you.

“ Are you insane?” You’d hissed.

“ Really? In front of everyone?”

“ I’m serious.”

“ You’re delusional. Get up.”

He hadn’t. He just stayed on one knee while looking up at you with those stupid earnest eyes.

“ I love you. I’ve loved you since the day you told me my tie looked like a gangster’s napkin and then fixed it anyway.”

You’d pinched the bridge of your nose. “ Yuan. No, again. No. Ani. Cannot be. Hindi. Bawal.”

“ Why not?”

“ Because you’re in the life…the same life that almost got someone killed a month ago right in front of me. I’m not signing up for that.”

He stood then in slow motion and it hurt. “ I’d protect you.”

“ You can’t even protect yourself from rejection.” You’d muttered.

He’d flinched as you’d hated yourself a little for it. But he’d left, finally, as his shoulders slumped while the box still clutched like a grenade. While you’d spent the rest of the day hiding in the supply closet while breathing into a paper bag.

Across the city, in a glass-and-steel penthouse that overlooked the Han River like it owned it, Kim Sun-woo lounged on black leather and whiskey in hand while watching his right-hand man slink in like a kicked dog.

Yuan dropped into the opposite chair without asking. His face looked like he’d swallowed glass.

Sun-woo smirked. “ Let me guess. Another public humiliation?”

“ She dragged me into the break room.” Yuan muttered.

“ Then she told me I was delusional.”

Sun-woo barked a laugh. “ She’s not wrong. You proposed in her office? What were you thinking…a rom-com bullshit?”

“ I was thinking forever.”

“ You were thinking with your dick and your ego.” Sun-woo swirled the amber liquid.

“ There are a thousand girls in Seoul who’d spread it for you tonight. Why chase the one who keeps kicking you in the balls?”

“ Because she’s different.” Yuan rubbed his face.

“ She doesn’t want my money. She doesn’t want my name. Doesn’t even want me safe. She just…sees me. And still says no.”

Sun-woo rolled his eyes. “ Poetic. Tragic. Pathetic. The odds of her suddenly falling for a man who runs guns and breaks kneecaps? Slimmer than your chances of growing a conscience.”

“ I’d protect her…” Yuan said quietly.

“ From anyone.”

Sun-woo snorted. “ You ran from the last ambush like your ass was on fire. Don’t make promises you can’t cash.”

Yuan’s jaw tightened. “ Fuck you, boss.”

“ Love you too.” Sun-woo leaned forward with his elbows on knees.

“ Forget her. I’ll call Mark. He’ll send three girls over. Blonde, brunette, redhead…your pick. To warm your bed, no strings, and no public proposals.”

“ I don’t want them.” Yuan’s voice cracked just enough to notice.

“ I want her. Only her. I’ll wait.”

Sun-woo stared at him for a long beat. Then laughed again in low and dark.

“ You’re hopeless. Fine. Waste your life pining. Just don’t fuck up the intel I asked for. I still need that woman’s name. The one from the alley.”

Yuan winced. “ Yeah. About that—”

“ You’ve been distracted.” Sun-woo cut in and his tone is sharpening.

“ It's been weeks now. Every time I ask for progress, you look like someone pissed in your cereal.”

“ I’m sorry. I’ll get it done. Tomorrow.”

Sun-woo waved a hand. “ Go breathe. You stink of desperation.”

Yuan stood, shoulders heavy, and headed for the rooftop terrace without another word. The second the door clicked shut, Sun-woo’s smirk widened into something sharper and predatory.

“ Pathetic.” He murmured to the empty room.

“ Chasing tail when women should be chasing him. Spoiled little shit.”

He tipped his glass back like it was swallowing fire.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know that the woman Yuan lost sleep over was the one who kept saying no, and who dragged him away from spectacle, who looked at him like he was a problem she couldn’t solve was the same woman Sun-woo had been hunting since the night she called him an asshole and refused to let him die.

He didn’t know her face was burned into both their brains.

He didn’t know the universe had a sick sense of humor, and tangled three lives in the same bloody thread.

Sun-woo set the glass down as he lit a cigarette and exhaled them slowly.

“ Soon…” He said to the glittering city below.

“ I’ll find you, angel. And when I do…”

He smiled into the smoke.

“…we’ll see how well you say no to me.”

…

Monday morning in Seoul tasted like exhaust and instant ramen breath. You stepped out of your shoebox apartment building, nodding at the ajummas clustered near the mailboxes like a flock of judgmental pigeons.

Their smiles were so plastic they could’ve been molded in the same factory as Barbie’s face is wide, frozen, and utterly fake.

You caught the tail end of a whisper about “…always alone, poor thing…” before they switched to syrupy “Good morning!” as you gave them the barest lip curl and kept walking.

The office was a twenty-minute stroll if you didn’t dawdle. Cabs were for tourists and people who liked throwing money at traffic. You had legs, a functioning brain, and zero desire to pay someone to inch you forward in gridlock.

AirPods in with a lo-fi playlist on low as you let the city blur around you in neon signs still sleepy, delivery scooters weaving like drunks, and the faint smell of grilled fish from a pojangmacha that never closed.

Then the world cracked open.

A gunshot was sharp, close, and unmistakable that ripped the morning apart. The screams erupted while people dropped like marionettes with cut strings. You flinched so hard your coffee sloshed over your knuckles and scalding.

Another bang.

Then three more in quick succession.

Chaos.

You bolted sideways, slamming against the brick wall of a closed nail salon while your heart was jackhammering and bullets whined overhead as the glass shattered somewhere to your left.

You pressed flat, palms scraping rough mortar, breathing through your teeth.

“ Of course.” You muttered.

“ Of course this happens on a Monday.”

Voices barked over the panic in deep and commanding with Korean laced with fury.

“ Everyone on the ground! Move and you’re dead!”

You risked a peek around the corner.

Six…no, seven men in tailored black while moving like they owned gravity. Pistols mostly, but two carried ARs slung low, expensive watches glinted under suit sleeves, and faces hard while their eyes scanned.

They looked like they’d stepped out of a K-drama budget meeting and decided to cosplay Men in Black minus the aliens, plus the actual murder.

Another crash, metal on metal, a car windshield imploding then more gunfire. You ducked lower while cursing under your breath.

Late.

You were going to be so late. And probably dead, but mostly late.

A hand clamped around your upper arm. You yelped, twisting, and ready to snap the wrist like dry spaghetti until you saw the face.

Yuan.

Blood streaked his temple in dark and fresh. His suit jacket was torn at the shoulder while his tie askew, but his eyes went wild with something between panic and rage.

“ What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed then yanked you deeper into the alley mouth.

You wrenched your arm free. “ I have a job, you idiot. Everything was fine until your little gangster tea party turned the street into a shooting gallery.”

His jaw clenched. “ It’s not mine. It’s theirs…our enemies. They hit us on the move.”

“ Oh, great. So this is just casual Monday terrorism. My bad for overreacting.” You shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

“ This is exactly why I keep saying no, Yuan. Your life is a live-action disaster reel. I like fictional disasters.”

He exhaled hard through his nose. “ I told you I’d protect you.”

“ Your promises don’t come with bulletproof vests. I love my life…quiet, boring, spreadsheet-filled. I’m not trading it for yours.”

His expression cracked and just a flicker. Hurt, maybe. Or frustration. “ I know you think I’m poisonous.”

“ I think you’re a walking red flag with nice cheekbones.”

He almost smiled bitterly and briefly then dragged you farther down the alley, away from the gunfire.

“ I can’t change your mind anymore, can I?”

“ Nope.”

“ But I’m not stopping.” He stopped walking then turned to face you. Blood dripped from his hairline onto his collar.

“ I’ll keep coming back until you stop saying no. Until you see I’m worth the risk.”

You snorted. “ In your dreams, Romeo.”

He opened his mouth, probably to argue or probably to promise the moon again when a new voice cut through like a blade.

“ Yah, pabo-ya.”

Yuan stiffened then he sagged in visible relief.

Kim Sun-woo stepped out from the opposite end of the alley while Glock was still smoking in his right hand. His suit was immaculate except for a single tear at the cuff and a smear of someone else’s blood on his knuckles.

His hair mussed just enough to look deliberate while his eyes are dark and furious that locked first on Yuan, then slid to you.

He froze.

You froze.

The gunfire in the distance popped like fireworks, but the alley suddenly felt vacuum-sealed. Sun-woo tilted his head, slow, and predatory then a recognition hit him like a second bullet.

“ You.”

Yuan stepped instinctively in front of you while his shoulders were squaring. “ Boss…she was caught in it. I was just—”

“ Running away again?” Sun-woo’s voice was velvet over gravel.

“ Leaving your team to eat lead while you play knight for your little crush?”

Yuan flinched. “ I found her hiding. I had to—”

“ You had to make sure she was safe.” Sun-woo’s gaze never left your face.

“ How noble.”

You feel the air thicken is hot, heavy, and electric. Sun-woo looked at you like he’d been waiting a month just for this moment. Like the chaos outside was background noise and you were the main event.

You crossed your arms, chin up. “ Nice to see you’re still alive, Mr. Kim. Try not to bleed out in public again. It’s bad for traffic.”

A slow, dangerous smile curled his mouth. “ Still got that mouth on you, angel.”

Yuan’s head snapped toward you. “ Angel?”

Sun-woo ignored him while stepping closer. He's close enough you could smell gunpowder, expensive cologne, and the faint copper of blood.

“ I've been looking for you.”

Your pulse kicked. “ Congratulations. You found me. Now go back to your war zone. Some of us have spreadsheets to cry over.”

He laughed in low and rough, like he hadn’t expected to enjoy this so much.

“ Are you always this sweet to men who owe you their life?”

“ Are you always this annoying to women who saved yours?”

Yuan made a strangled noise. “ Wait…you two know each other?”

Sun-woo’s eyes stayed on you, dark and burning. “ She’s the one who dragged me out of hell a month ago. Kept me breathing while I called her an angel.”

He leaned in as his voice dropped. “ And she still talks to me like I’m trash. I like it.”

Heat crawled up your neck.

You hated it.

Hated him.

You hated the way your stupid heart thudded like it recognized danger and wanted more.

Yuan’s hand flexed at his side. “ Boss—”

“ Shut up, Yuan.” Sun-woo said without looking.

Then, to you. “ You’re coming with me.”

“ Excuse me?”

“ The street’s a mess. Enemies everywhere. You think I’m letting you walk home alone after this?”

You laughed sharply and incredulously. “ I think you’re delusional if you believe I’m going anywhere with either of you.”

Sun-woo’s smile sharpened. “ Try me.”

Yuan stepped forward. “ She said no, boss.”

Sun-woo finally glanced at him, cold but amused. “ She says no to you every day, Yuan. But it didn’t seem to stop you.”

Yuan’s face flushed. You felt the tension coil tighter with these two men, one woman, one alley, and enough unresolved bullshit to start another war.

Another burst of gunfire echoed from the main road.

Sun-woo’s hand twitched toward his gun. “ We’re not done talking, angel.”

His eyes raked over you in slow, deliberate, and filthy promise. “ But next time? No interruptions.”

He turned, jerked his head at Yuan. “ Move. We’ve got work.”

Yuan hesitated, gaze flicking to you in pleading, furious, and helpless.

You met Sun-woo’s stare one last time. “ Don’t call me 'angel', Mr. Kim.”

He smirked. “ Too late.”

Then he walked away as Yuan trailing like a shadow. You stood there, heart slamming, coffee long cold on the pavement.

The city kept burning around you and somehow, you knew, you’d just stepped deeper into the fire.

Your Monday was officially ruined.

…

The late afternoon sun bled orange through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sun-woo’s penthouse, painting the black marble floor in long and violent streaks.

Yuan kicked the double doors shut behind him while his arms straining under the dead weight of his boss. Sun-woo’s suit jacket hung in tatters while the blood soaked the right shoulder and turned charcoal wool to wet midnight.

He groaned low when Yuan lowered him onto the custom Italian leather couch carefully and almost tender like handling cracked porcelain.

“ Fuck.” Sun-woo hissed, teeth bared, and fingers digging into the ruined fabric over the bullet hole.

“ Those sons of bitches…I’m gonna find every last one. Skin them. Burn what’s left. Send the ashes to their mothers in gift boxes.”

Yuan didn’t answer since he’d heard the threats before.

They always sounded prettier when Sun-woo was bleeding.

He disappeared into the bathroom then came back with the black medical kit as the one stocked for gunshot wounds, not paper cuts.

He's kneeling as he cuts away the shirt sleeve with trauma shears. Sun-woo watched him through half-lidded eyes and sweat beading on his upper lip.

“ Through and through.” Yuan muttered, probing gently.

“ Missed the artery. You're lucky.”

“ Lucky?” Sun-woo echoed sarcastically.

“ No, I feel blessed.”

Yuan poured antisept and the second it hit raw flesh Sun-woo’s whole body jerked.

“ Motherfucker—!”

“ Hold still, boss.”

Sun-woo’s free hand shot out then grabbing Yuan’s wrist hard enough to bruise. “ Are you gonna baby me or fix it?”

Yuan didn’t flinch. He just kept working on cleaning, packing gauze and tape. When he finished, he gathered the bloody cotton and gauze, and dumped them in the steel bin under the bar, then he went to the liquor cabinet without being asked.

Sun-woo’s voice followed him. “ Whiskey. The good shit. Not the shelf crap.”

Yuan returned with the thirty-year-old Yamazaki, twisted the cap, and handed it over. Sun-woo took it like communion wine, tipped his head back, and drank straight from the bottle in a long and greedy swallow that made his throat work.

When he lowered it, half was gone as be wiped his mouth with the back of his good hand.

“ You finally found her, Yuan.” He said as his voice was rough from liquor and pain.

“ The woman who saved my ass that night. Been looking for a fucking month, and she’s been your little obsession the whole time.”

Yuan froze mid-step. “ I didn’t know. I swear. You never described her face…just ‘the angel with the sharp tongue.’ I didn’t connect—”

“ You’re an idiot.” Sun-woo cut in, almost fond.

“ But at least now we have a direct line. I want to talk to her. Tomorrow or tonight if she’s stupid enough to answer her phone.”

Yuan’s shoulders tensed. “ She’ll say no. Again.”

Sun-woo’s laugh was dark, wet. “ Then I don’t ask. I take. Simple abduction. Bag over the head, trunk of the car, here by breakfast. Done.”

Yuan’s face hardened. “ I promised her I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“ Kidnapping isn’t hurting.” Sun-woo leaned forward while his elbows were on knees as the bottle dangling between his fingers.

“ I’m not gonna carve her up, Yuan. I just want to look her in the eye. Say 'thank you.' Properly. For dragging this son of the devil back from the edge when she could’ve walked away.”

He tilted his head.

“ You think I’d hurt the only person who ever treated me like I was worth saving?”

Yuan looked away while his knuckles were white around nothing.

Sun-woo’s smirk sharpened. “ You’re jealous, Yuan.”

“ I’m not—”

“ You are.” Sun-woo set the bottle down with deliberate care.

“ You are scared that I’ll like her. Scared she’ll like me back. Scared three years of groveling might get smoked by one night of her pressing gauze to my chest.”

Yuan met his eyes then in raw, furious, and terrified. “ What if you do? What if you like her? What then?”

Sun-woo stood slowly. The movement pulled at his wound, but he ignored it. He towered over his right-hand man until Yuan had to tilt his head back.

“ What if my theory’s right?” Sun-woo murmured in voice low enough to crawl under skin.

“ What if she already woke up to something in me? What if I decide I want her? What are you gonna do about it, Yuan?”

Yuan’s breath hitched. “ You know I’ve loved her for three years. Every day. Every rejection. I’ve waited. I’ve bled for her in my head a thousand times. Don’t…don’t take her from me.”

Sun-woo tapped his good shoulder almost gently. “ I can’t promise shit, Yuan. She woke up to something. I’m curious. Dangerous combination.”

Yuan’s fists clenched so hard the knuckles bleached.

Sun-woo’s smile turned lethal. “ If you swing at me right now, that bullet in my shoulder moves faster than your fist ever will. You know it. I know it.”

Yuan’s jaw worked, but no words came. Then he turned in sharp, mechanical, and walked out. The door slammed hard enough to rattle the whiskey bottle.

Sun-woo exhaled through his nose as he sank back onto the couch. The room felt bigger without Yuan’s simmering rage filling it.

He hadn’t planned this.

He hadn’t planned on wanting the same woman his most loyal soldier had spent years chasing.

He hadn’t planned on the way your voice still echoed in his skull by calling him pathetic, stubborn, and refusing to let him die like it personally offended you.

He hadn’t planned on the heat that coiled low in his gut every time he remembered your hand gripping his in the ambulance, blood-slick and unyielding.

But plans were for cowards.

He picked up the bottle again then took another long pull.

He didn’t intend to hurt you, not really.

He just intended to have you.

Whether you said yes willingly or woke up in his bed wondering how the hell you got there.

Either way.

He’d win because Kim Sun-woo didn’t lose.

Not to enemies.

Not to bullets.

And sure as hell not to a lovesick right-hand man who couldn’t take no for an answer.

He leaned his head back against the leather, closed his eyes as the wound throbbed in time with his pulse.

Soon, angel.

Very soon.

You’d see him again.

And this time?

He wouldn’t let you walk away.

Author's Note:

you can feel him, even before he’s there. the heat of him at your back, the way the air shifts, how his presence wraps around you like a slow - burning fuse.

'wearing this just to piss me off, sweetheart?' his voice drags down your spine like a touch, warm and teasing.

you don’t turn. 'don't flatter yourself.'

he chuckles, and you hate that it makes your skin prickle. 'too late.'

what did that mean? a cold sweat pricks at the back of your neck. ugh, you hate him.

his fingers brush your hip, so light you might imagine it. you stiffen, but don’t move. 'you’re acting like you don’t feel it, too,' he says, voice just this side of smug.

you do. and you hate that you do.

you turn around, and glare at his smug ass face. looking fine as ever under the dim coloured lights of the party. fuck. you raise a hand, threatening to slap him.

he chuckles, low and dark. 'do it. bet that pretty little hand of yours would feel so good on my face.'

--

all night, he toys with you. lingering glances, teasing smirks, hands brushing too close, breath against your neck when he leans in just to piss you off. he murmurs filth in your ear just to see how long it takes for you to snap.

by the time he finally grabs you, you’re already burning.

one second, you’re throwing him a glare. the next, his fingers are curling around your wrist, and he’s pulling you through the crowd, past the pulsing music, past the drunken, grinding bodies.

no words. just him. just the heat in his eyes when he finds an empty hallway, shoves you onto the wall, and backs you against it.

'you’ve been pissing me off all night,' he mutters, voice rough.

'me?' you scoff, breath uneven.

sunwoo’s fingers slide up your jaw, tilting your face up so you have to look at him. his pupils are blown, his chest rising and falling like he’s been holding this in for too long.

'yeah. you. acting like you don’t want this.'

'i don’t,' you lie, but your body betrays you.

his lips quirk into that same infuriating smirk that makes your blood boil. 'then tell me to stop.'

you don’t.

so he kisses you.

it’s not soft. it’s not careful. it’s desperate—all frustration and heat, all the tension that’s been clawing at him since the moment he saw you. his hands grip your hips, pulling you into him, and you can feel him, hard against you, like he’s been aching for this just as much as you have.

your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just to hear the groan he lets out. his hands slide down to your waist, his grip almost bruising. he pulls back, his lips covered in your saliva. 'fuck..' he growls. he frantically looks around the hallway and sees a door. ajar. his hands find your wrist and drag you to the room, slamming it shut and locking it behind the two of you.

he slams you against the wall next to the door, his face centimetres away, his nose almost touching yours. his eyes are hooded. he can't take it anymore.

he needs you. now.

'fuck,' he mutters again, hands gripping your waist, fingers digging into your skin like he’s been starving for this. 'you have no idea how bad i’ve wanted this.'

you hate how good he feels. how solid, how warm, how fucking there.

your nails drag down his arms, frustration burning through your veins. you can feel him—thick and hard through his jeans, pressing right against your core.

'you’re such a-' he cuts you off with his mouth, swallowing whatever insult was about to spill out. it’s messy, heated, all tongue and teeth, all the pent-up frustration from hours of bickering, teasing, denying.

his hands slip under your skirt, rough palms trailing up your thighs, fingertips dragging over the edge of your panties.

'shit,' he groans against your lips. 'you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?'

'shut up.'

his smirk is pure sin. 'nah. you like my mouth too much for that.'

his fingers push aside the lace, dragging through your slick folds, teasing you slow, lazy, just to piss you off. you take a shaky breath as his fingers made contact with your bare heat, your nails digging into his shoulder.

'you can act like you hate me all you want,' he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. 'but this?' he circles your clit with his thumb, just enough pressure to make you gasp. 'this pretty little pussy tells me the truth.'

your head falls back against the wall, a curse slipping past your lips. his mouth is everywhere—your neck, your collarbone, nipping, licking, leaving heat in his wake.

'sunwoo,' you gasp, grabbing at his bicep, but he just smirks.

'shut up. you know you don’t want me to stop.'

you don’t. and you fucking hate him for it.

but not as much as you hate how good he makes you feel. his fingers slip inside, two stretching you open with an ease that makes you shudder. 'so fucking tight,' he groans. 'bet you’d feel so good wrapped around my cock, shit.'

you bury your head in his shoulder, dragging your nails down his back just to hear him curse. 'you talk too much,' you pant, grinding down against his hand.

his grin is wicked, fingers curling inside you just right. "and you fucking love it."

he’s right. and you’re too far gone to deny it.

--

his fingers work you open, slow and deliberate, his other hand gripping your thigh to keep you pinned against the wall. 'look at you,' he murmurs, watching the way your body moves against his hand, how your hips chase his touch. 'needy little thing. guess all that attitude was just a front, huh?'

'fuck you,' you spit, but it comes out breathy, desperate.

sunwoo laughs, dark and low, his teeth grazing your throat. 'you wish, baby.'

he pulls his fingers out of you, and you barely have time to whine at the loss before he's dragging them up, pressing them past your lips.

'taste yourself.' god, he's so dirty. and you'd be lying to say if you didn't love it. the demand is filthy, and fuck, you should refuse, but you don’t. you let him push his fingers onto your tongue, let the taste of yourself mix with the heat of his skin.

his jaw clenches. 'god, you’re so hot.'

before you can throw some remark back, he’s moving - grabbing your wrist, spinning you around, pressing your front against the wall. his body is flush against your back, his hands greedy as they drag down your sides, gripping your ass, pulling you back against his cock. you whimper softly as he presses into you, barely having enough time to steady yourself against the wall.

'you feel that?' he grinds against you, slow and teasing. 'that’s what you do to me. fuck, i’ve been hard all fucking night, watching you, knowing you’d end up here, whining for me.'

then you hear it—the sound of his belt unbuckling, the rasp of his zipper. your pulse hammers.

'say it,' he murmurs, voice like gravel. 'tell me how bad you want it.'

you hate him. you hate how smug he sounds, how cocky, how he already knows.

and you hate needing him more.

'sunwoo,' you whisper, pressing back against him. 'just do it.'

sunwoo groans softly, dragging his cock through your slick folds, teasing, just barely pushing in. 'say it.'

you don't want to say it. but you do.

'please..'

and that's all he needed to hear.'

he pushes into you in one slow, deep stroke, stretching you open, making you gasp as your hands scramble for purchase against the wall.

'shit,' he curses, voice wrecked. 'so fucking tight. you feel that? feel how good you take me?'

you can’t speak, you can barely breathe. he fills you completely, his cock thick and heavy inside you, stealing every thought from your head.

'fuck, baby,' he groans, dragging his lips up the back of your neck. 'you hate me, huh? hate me so much you’re dripping all over my cock?'

you whimper, nails scraping the wall. he pulls out almost completely, then slams back in, setting a brutal pace, each thrust knocking the air from your lungs.

'listen to you,' he grits out, snapping his hips harder. 'moaning like a slut for the guy you fucking hate.'

your body betrays you, pushing back to meet him, desperate for more. his fingers snake around your throat, pulling you back against him, forcing you to arch.

'feels good, doesn’t it?' he whispers against your ear. 'letting me fuck you like this. finally giving in.'

your moans are strangled, broken. he’s too deep, too good, ruining you from the inside out.

'you’re mine for now, baby,' he growls, his hand slipping between your legs, rubbing tight circles over your clit. 'fuck who you thought you were before this. right now, you’re just a messy little thing who needs my cock.'

you don’t argue. you can’t. not when the knot in your stomach is building, threatening to snap. not when every thrust sends you higher.

sunwoo feels it—the way your body tightens around him, how your legs tremble, how your breath catches like you’re right on the edge. his grip tightens around your throat, his other hand working your clit mercilessly. 'that’s it,' he rasps, his lips brushing your ear, his cock pounding into you harder, deeper.

'you’re about to cum, aren’t you? gonna fall apart on my cock like a good little slut?'

you whimper, your knees almost giving out, but sunwoo holds you up, forces you to take every brutal, punishing thrust. 'say it.'

'fuck, yes, i-'

you don’t even finish before it slams into you. heat floods your body, white-hot pleasure bursting through you like a live wire. your walls clamp down around him, squeezing him so tight you hear his sharp intake of breath, his grip going almost bruising on your hips.

'shit,' he curses, his rhythm faltering as your body spasms around him. 'that’s it- god, you’re so fucking tight when you cum.'

he doesn’t slow down. doesn’t let you breathe. he drives into you, fucking you through your orgasm, dragging it out until you're nothing but a shaking, incoherent mess against the wall.

'look at you,' he groans, voice thick with something dark and possessive. 'still taking me so well, still so desperate.'

your head drops, your body completely pliant in his hands. you feel his breath against your skin, harsh and uneven, his pace turning erratic. he's close.

his hand slides down your belly, presses against the bulge where he’s buried so fucking deep inside you. 'you can feel it in your tummy, can't you, baby?'

his hips slam forward, grinding into you, making you feel every inch of him. your body twitches, overstimulated, but he doesn’t stop.

'you want me to fill you up, don’t you?' he groans, his hand tangling in your hair, yanking your head back so he can bite down on your throat. 'want me to ruin you, make sure you’re dripping with me when you walk out of this room?'

you can’t speak. you can only whimper, nod, barely able to keep standing as he pounds into you like he’s trying to break you.

'f-fuck.' he grunts. his hands tighten on you - one gripping your hip, the other pressing against your stomach as he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt.

then he breaks.

his groan is wrecked, guttural, as he spills inside you, his body shuddering, his lips parted against your neck. you feel it. hot, thick, filling you up, his cock twitching deep inside as he rides out his high.

the room is heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, both of you breathing hard, bodies slick and tangled.

for a moment, neither of you move.

then sunwoo chuckles, breathless, pressing a lazy kiss to the back of your shoulder. 'shit,' he murmurs, voice rough, spent. 'you still hate me, baby?'

you’re too fucked-out to even respond.

he grins against your neck. 'don’t worry, baby. we can work on that.'

--