rubybby22

[rubybby22]

What about now?

Help me figure out if this is alright people

It's looking weird to me

[rubybby22]

Help me figure out if this is alright people

It's looking weird to me

[rubybby22]

Royal Pardon

Charles Leclerc x Arthur’s best friend!Reader

Summary: Charles isn’t a violent man at heart, but when he saves you from being harassed while celebrating his Monaco win, he quickly realizes that there’s not a single line he wouldn’t cross if it means keeping you safe

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, violence, and injury

Note: a break from your regularly scheduled October programming because Charles just won the United States GP and that calls for a celebration

The music pulses through the club, a steady, hypnotic beat that thrums in Charles’ chest. He’s never felt like this — untouchable, invincible — as if tonight could stretch on forever, an endless loop of victory and laughter.

He’s just won Monaco.

Monaco. His Monaco.

The thought alone makes him smile, a small, private thing that he hides behind the rim of his champagne flute.

Around him, the crowd swirls in a blur of lights and shadows, everyone shouting their congratulations over the music, pulling him into hugs and clapping him on the back. Arthur is here somewhere, of course, dragging you along because where else would you be? The two of you are like shadows, inseparable since childhood.

Charles can still see you, just barely, out of the corner of his eye, chatting with a couple of Arthur’s friends near the bar. You’re laughing, a sound that somehow cuts through the noise and settles in the back of his mind. It’s a good sound, one that feels familiar, like home.

“Charles, mate!” A voice shouts, pulling him back. Max is there, leaning in with a grin that’s all teeth, like he’s just as buzzed on adrenaline as Charles is. “I swear, you’re going to be insufferable after this. Monaco, finally!”

Charles laughs, shaking his head, though the truth is he probably will be insufferable. But can anyone blame him? He’s worked so damn hard for this, pushing through every setback, every disappointment. And now, here he is, celebrating the win of his career in the only place that really matters.

He’s about to respond when someone else pulls him into a hug, a flurry of excitement and congratulations that Charles barely processes. He doesn’t mind, though. Tonight, it feels like nothing can touch him, like nothing could ever bring him down from this high.

But then, something shifts. It’s subtle at first, just an itch at the back of his mind, a sense that something isn’t right. He glances over to where you and Arthur were standing, but Arthur is gone, nowhere to be seen. And you … you’re not laughing anymore.

Charles’ stomach twists. You’re cornered against the bar now, a man leaning in too close, too aggressive. Charles can’t see your face clearly through the throng of people, but the way you’re holding yourself, tense and small, tells him everything he needs to know.

His blood turns to ice, freezing the euphoria in his veins. He can’t hear what the man is saying, but it doesn’t matter. The way the man’s hand snakes around your waist, the way you try to push him off with trembling hands — Charles’ vision goes red.

He’s moving before he can think, pushing through the crowd with a single-minded focus. The people congratulating him moments ago scatter as he brushes past them, their laughter and cheers fading into the background noise.

“Hey!” Charles’ voice cuts through the music, sharp and commanding. The man doesn’t even turn at first, but you do, your eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. Charles feels something break inside him at the sight, but he channels it into a fury that propels him forward.

When the man finally notices Charles, it’s too late. Charles is on him, grabbing the man’s shoulder and yanking him away from you with a force that sends the man stumbling backward. “Get the fuck away from her,” Charles snarls, every syllable dripping with venom.

The man barely has time to react before Charles slams him against the wall, the impact rattling the bottles on the shelves behind the bar. Charles’ forearm presses against the man’s throat, cutting off whatever protest he might have had.

“Charles, stop!” You gasp, your voice choked with a mix of fear and something else, something that twists the knife already lodged in Charles’ chest. He doesn’t stop, though. Can’t stop. The image of the man’s hands on you is burned into his mind, and all he can think about is making him pay, making him hurt.

The man struggles, clawing at Charles’ arm, but it’s useless. Charles is stronger, fueled by a rage that’s been simmering just beneath the surface for too long. The man’s face turns red, then purple, and still, Charles doesn’t let up. His grip tightens, and he leans in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.

“If you ever so much as look at her again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and deadly serious. The man’s eyes widen, a flash of genuine fear crossing his face, but Charles doesn’t care. He wants him to be scared. Wants him to know that there’s no escaping this, no escaping the consequences of what he’s done.

“Charles, please!” Your voice breaks through the haze of anger, and it’s only then that Charles realizes how close you’ve gotten. You’re right there, your hand on his arm, tugging gently, desperately trying to pull him away.

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and sees the tears streaming down your face, the fear etched into your features. It’s like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head, shocking him back to reality. The club, the music, the people — all of it comes rushing back in a disorienting wave.

Charles blinks, his grip on the man loosening just enough for the man to gasp for air. He’s still furious, the anger simmering beneath the surface, but he’s no longer blind with it. He takes a breath, then another, trying to regain some semblance of control.

“You’re lucky she’s here,” Charles says quietly, his voice barely more than a growl. He shoves the man away from him, watching with cold satisfaction as he stumbles and nearly falls to the floor.

The man doesn’t stick around. He scrambles to his feet and disappears into the crowd, no doubt eager to get as far away from Charles as possible. Good. Charles hopes he never sees the man again, because he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself if he does.

For a moment, Charles just stands there, his chest heaving with the effort of reining in his emotions. The crowd has started to notice the commotion, a few curious onlookers craning their necks to see what’s going on. But none of that matters. None of them matter.

All that matters is you.

Charles turns to you, his expression softening as he takes in your tear-streaked face. “Are you okay?” His voice is gentler now, full of concern that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You nod, but it’s a shaky, uncertain thing. “I-I’m fine,” you manage, though it’s clear you’re anything but. You look like you’re about to collapse, your legs barely holding you up.

Without thinking, Charles steps closer and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You don’t resist, you just sink into him, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if he’s the only thing keeping you upright. And maybe he is.

“It’s okay,” Charles murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You’re safe now. I’m here.” He holds you tighter, as if he can shield you from the world, from everything that just happened. And for a moment, it feels like he can. Like nothing bad can touch you as long as you’re in his arms.

You don’t say anything, just press your face into his chest, your breath hitching with the remnants of your tears. Charles presses his lips to the top of your head, a gesture that feels both instinctive and impossibly intimate. He’s never held you like this before, never been this close, but it feels right.

The music still pounds in the background, the lights still flash in a dizzying array of colors, but it’s all distant now, muted. The only thing that matters is you, and making sure you’re okay.

Charles pulls back just enough to look down at you, his hands resting on your shoulders. “Where’s Arthur?” He asks, his voice still soft but edged with a protective concern.

“I-I don’t know,” you admit, your voice small. “He was here a minute ago, and then …” Your words trail off, and Charles doesn’t need you to finish the sentence to know what happened next.

He clenches his jaw, trying to keep his anger in check. Arthur should have been here, should have been looking out for you, but he isn’t. Charles isn’t sure where his brother is right now, but he’ll deal with that later. For now, he needs to focus on you.

“It’s okay,” he says again, though the words feel inadequate. “You’re with me now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

You nod again, but this time it’s a little steadier, a little more certain. “Thank you,” you whisper, the words barely audible over the music.

Charles shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank me,” he says, his voice rougher than he intends. “I’ll always protect you. Always.”

The weight of those words hangs between you, a promise that feels more real than anything else in this moment. Charles knows, without a doubt, that he means it. He’ll protect you, no matter what. Even if it means facing down every threat, every danger, with the same ferocity he showed tonight.

He takes a deep breath, trying to let go of the lingering anger. The night isn’t over yet, but he’s not sure how much longer he can stand to be here, in this place that suddenly feels too crowded, too loud, too full of people who didn’t notice, didn’t care. Charles’ grip tightens on your shoulders as he scans the room, trying to spot Arthur in the sea of faces. But it’s a lost cause — the club is packed, and he knows Arthur could be anywhere.

“Come on,” Charles says, his voice a bit steadier now. “Let’s get out of here.”

You don’t argue, just nod and let him guide you through the crowd. The bodies pressing in around you both feel suffocating, the music that once electrified the night now grating on Charles’ nerves. He keeps a firm hold on your hand, as if letting go might mean losing you to the chaos.

As you near the exit, the cool night air becomes a welcome relief, a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat inside. The streets of Monaco are quieter now, the party shifting indoors as the night grows late. Charles doesn’t stop moving until you’re both far enough from the club that the noise fades into a dull hum, barely audible over the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.

He finally releases your hand, only to immediately wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You’re shivering, whether from the cold or the shock, Charles isn’t sure. Either way, he holds you tighter, wishing he could do more, say more.

But the words don’t come easily. They never have. So instead, he just walks with you, slowly, allowing the night air to calm the both of you. You lean into him, and he can feel the tension gradually leaving your body, though you still seem a little too fragile, too breakable.

Charles isn’t sure how long you walk like that, side by side in the near silence, before you finally speak.

“Charles, I …” Your voice is hesitant, unsure. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there.”

He stops walking, turning to face you, his expression serious. “You don’t have to think about that,” he says, his voice firm. “I was there. And I always will be.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for something — reassurance, perhaps, or maybe just understanding. “But what if next time-”

“There won’t be a next time.” Charles cuts you off, his voice harder than he intends. He takes a breath, softening his tone. “I won’t let there be a next time.”

He can see the worry still etched on your face, the remnants of fear that haven’t quite faded. He wishes he could take it all away, erase the memory of that man and the way he made you feel. But he knows he can’t. All he can do is be there, to protect you, to make sure you know that you’re not alone.

“You’re safe,” he repeats, quieter now, but with no less conviction. “As long as I’m here, you’re safe.”

You hold his gaze for a long moment, and he wonders what you’re thinking, what’s going on behind those eyes that have always been so easy for him to read. Eventually, you nod, and some of the tension in your posture seems to melt away.

“Okay,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

Charles nods too, though a part of him still feels on edge, like the danger hasn’t completely passed. But he pushes that feeling down, focusing instead on you, on the fact that you’re here with him, and that’s all that matters right now.

“Let’s go,” he says again, but this time, his voice is softer, more gentle. He takes your hand again, lacing his fingers with yours, and starts walking, leading you away from the club, from the noise and the memories that he hopes you’ll never have to revisit.

As you walk, the tension between you both begins to ease. The night air is crisp, carrying the scent of the sea, and for the first time in what feels like hours, Charles allows himself to breathe.

He glances over at you, your profile illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. You look calmer now, more like yourself, though there’s still a shadow of what happened lingering in your eyes. Charles’ heart aches at the sight, at the knowledge that he couldn’t protect you from that, even if he was there to stop it from getting worse.

But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he just keeps walking, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your knuckles, a silent reassurance that he’s here, and he’s not going anywhere.

Eventually, you reach the familiar streets that lead back to your apartment. The night is quiet now, the revelry of earlier giving way to the peaceful stillness of a city that’s finally starting to sleep.

When you reach your building, you both stop, lingering on the sidewalk as if neither of you wants the night to end just yet. Charles knows he should say something, anything, but the words are stuck in his throat, too heavy and too complicated to untangle.

You’re the one who breaks the silence, your voice soft but clear. “Thank you. For everything.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank me,” he says, echoing his earlier words. “I meant what I said — I’ll always protect you.”

There’s a pause, a beat of silence that stretches on just long enough to make Charles wonder if you’re going to say something more. But you don’t. Instead, you step closer and, without warning, wrap your arms around him in a tight hug.

Charles is momentarily stunned, his breath catching in his throat as he processes the warmth of your embrace, the way you cling to him like he’s your anchor in a storm. He hesitates for only a second before his arms come up around you, holding you just as tightly, if not more.

The hug lasts longer than it probably should, but neither of you seems to want to let go. When you finally do, you pull back just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his with a softness that makes his chest tighten.

“Goodnight, Charlie,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Goodnight,” he replies, his voice equally soft, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile moment between you.

You give him one last, lingering look before turning and heading into your building, the door closing softly behind you. Charles stands there for a moment, staring at the door, as if willing it to open again, as if hoping you might come back out and say something more.

But you don’t, and eventually, Charles turns and starts walking back the way you came, his thoughts a tangled mess of emotions he’s not sure how to deal with.

The night is still, the only sound the distant crash of the waves against the rocks. Charles lets the quiet seep into him, trying to find some semblance of calm, but it’s difficult. The image of you, scared and vulnerable, keeps flashing through his mind, a constant reminder of how close you came to being hurt.

He knows he should feel relief — that you’re safe, that the night ended without further incident. But instead, all he feels is a gnawing sense of guilt, of not having been there sooner, of not being able to protect you from everything.

Charles clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he walks. He doesn’t want to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t been there, doesn’t want to imagine the fear and pain you might have endured.

But he can’t stop the thoughts from coming, can’t shake the anger that simmers just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

As he rounds the corner to his own street, Charles makes a silent vow to himself. He’ll be more vigilant, more careful. He won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. He’ll be there, always, to protect you, no matter what.

And if anyone tries to come between you and your safety again, well … Charles isn’t sure he’ll be able to hold back next time.

He reaches his apartment, but he doesn’t go inside right away. Instead, he stands outside, staring up at the stars barely visible above the city lights, his mind still racing with thoughts of you.

Eventually, he takes a deep breath and turns to unlock his door, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him with a quiet click. The apartment is dark and silent, but it doesn’t feel like home tonight. It feels empty, hollow, as if something is missing.

And Charles knows exactly what that something is.

As he heads to bed, his thoughts are still on you — on the way you looked at him tonight, on the way you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. And somewhere, deep down, Charles knows that you’re more than just Arthur’s best friend to him.

But he’s not ready to confront that just yet. Not tonight.

So he pushes the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the promise he made to himself: to always be there for you, to protect you, no matter what.

It’s a promise he intends to keep.

***

The morning sun stretches over Monaco, its golden rays catching on the waves that lap against the harbor. The city is just beginning to stir, and for a moment, everything feels like it should: calm, peaceful, normal. But as Charles hits his stride on his morning run, his mind is anything but calm.

The events of last night replay in his head on a loop, the image of you — shaken, scared, fighting back tears — burned into his memory. Every step he takes feels heavier, weighted down by the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

He’s tried to push it down, to focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing, the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement, but it’s no use. The rage is still there, as fresh and raw as it was the moment he saw you in that club.

Charles turns a corner, heading down toward the harbor where the yachts bob gently in the water. The morning air is crisp, a stark contrast to the heat that still lingers in his chest. He needs to clear his head, to shake off the lingering sense of helplessness that clings to him like a shadow.

But then he sees him.

The man is walking casually along the harbor, hands in his pockets, his face a picture of smug indifference. He looks like any other tourist enjoying a morning stroll, not like someone who was grabbing you, hurting you, just hours ago.

Charles stops dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, he thinks he’s imagining it, that his mind is playing tricks on him. But no, it’s him. The same face, the same sneer that Charles wanted to wipe off with his fist last night.

Something snaps inside Charles. The anger he’s been trying to control, trying to bury, erupts like a dam breaking, flooding his veins with adrenaline. His vision narrows, locking onto the man who dared to touch you, who thought he could get away with it.

Without thinking, Charles changes direction, his strides long and purposeful as he closes the distance between them. The man doesn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in whatever thoughts a man like him could have. But then, as Charles gets closer, something makes the man glance over his shoulder.

His reaction is immediate. The smug look falters, replaced by a flicker of recognition, then quickly by a lazy grin that only fuels Charles’ rage.

“Well, well,” the man drawls, stopping to face Charles, clearly not sensing the danger. “If it isn’t the big hero himself. What’s the matter, Leclerc? Didn’t get enough attention last night?”

Charles doesn’t answer, his jaw clenched so tightly he can feel his teeth grind together. He’s close enough now to smell the lingering stench of alcohol on the man’s breath, the same breath that spewed vile words at you.

The man chuckles, a sound that grates on Charles’ nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “You know, she had it coming,” he says, his tone almost conversational. “The way she was dressed, the way she looked at me — what did she expect?”

That’s all it takes. The words cut through Charles like a knife, sharp and searing, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, shoving him back against the railing of the harbor.

“What did you say?” Charles’ voice is low, dangerous, barely more than a growl. His knuckles are white where they grip the man’s shirt, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

The man’s grin only widens, unfazed by the fury in Charles’ eyes. “You heard me,” he sneers. “And you know what? There’s nothing you can do about it. We’re in public, Leclerc. You’re a famous guy — can’t have your precious image tarnished, can you?”

Charles’ lips curl into a smile, but it’s not the kind that reaches his eyes. It’s cold, calculated, the kind of smile that sends a chill down the spine. “You think I care about that?” He asks, his voice dangerously calm.

The man’s bravado falters just a bit, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but he doesn’t back down. “Yeah, I do. You’re not gonna do anything. Not here, not in front of all these people.”

Charles laughs, but there’s no humor in it, just a bitter edge that makes the man shift uncomfortably. “You really don’t get it, do you?” Charles says, his voice softening into something almost pitying. “This is Monaco. And I’m Charles Leclerc.”

The man’s face pales slightly, but he still tries to hold his ground. “So what? You think being a driver gives you a free pass to do whatever you want?”

Charles’ smile widens, though there’s nothing friendly about it. “Exactly.”

Before the man can react, Charles yanks him away from the railing, dragging him along the harbor. The man stumbles, trying to pull away, but Charles’ grip is ironclad, unyielding. The few people who are out this early watch with interest, some even clapping or calling out congratulations as they recognize Charles.

“Hey, what the hell?” The man protests, his voice rising in panic as he struggles against Charles’ hold. “Let go of me!”

Charles doesn’t respond, his eyes focused straight ahead as he forces the man to walk, his grip tightening whenever he feels him start to resist. The man’s attempts to free himself are pathetic, laughable even, compared to the strength Charles has built up over years of training, of pushing his body to the limits.

As they pass by a group of people, one of them cheers, “That’s the way, Charles! Show him who’s boss!”

The man tries to appeal to the onlookers, his voice frantic. “Someone stop him! He’s crazy!”

But no one moves to help. They just watch, some amused, others indifferent, as Charles continues to drag the man through the streets of Monaco like he’s nothing more than a piece of trash that needs to be disposed of.

“Where are you taking me?” The man demands, his voice trembling now as fear starts to seep in. “You can’t do this! I’ll-I’ll call the police!”

Charles’ laugh is cold and devoid of any warmth. “Go ahead,” he says, not slowing down for a second. “Tell them Charles Leclerc is dealing with a problem. See how far that gets you.”

The man’s protests grow weaker, his struggles more desperate, but it’s clear he knows there’s no escaping this. Charles is too strong, too determined, and the reality of his situation is starting to sink in.

The two of them reach a more secluded part of the harbor, where the buildings are fewer and the noise of the city fades into the background. There’s no one around to witness what’s about to happen, no one to hear the man’s cries for help.

Charles comes to a stop in a narrow alleyway, shoving the man against the wall with enough force to knock the breath out of him. He leans in close, his face inches from the man’s, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.

“You made a mistake last night,” Charles says, his tone icy. “You thought you could get away with it because you were in a crowded club, because she was alone. You thought no one would stop you.”

The man’s eyes are wide with fear now, all traces of his earlier arrogance gone. “I-I didn’t mean-”

“But you did,” Charles cuts him off, his voice like steel. “You meant every word, every touch, every threat. And now, you’re going to pay for it.”

The man tries to push Charles away, his movements frantic, but Charles is relentless. He grabs the man by the throat, pinning him against the wall, his grip just tight enough to make him understand how serious this is.

“You think I can’t do anything to you because we’re in public?” Charles hisses, his breath hot against the man’s ear. “You’re wrong. In Monaco, I can do whatever I want. And no one will stop me.”

The man’s hands claw at Charles’ arm, trying to pry his fingers away from his throat, but it’s useless. Charles is too strong, too focused, his anger giving him a surge of power that the man can’t hope to match.

Charles leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You hurt someone I care about. Someone I’ve known my whole life. And for that, I’m going to make sure you never forget what happens when you cross me.”

The man’s breath comes in short, panicked gasps as he realizes the gravity of his situation. He tries to speak, to beg for mercy, but Charles isn’t interested in hearing his excuses.

“Please …” the man finally manages to choke out, his voice barely a whisper. “I-I’m sorry …”

Charles’ eyes narrow, his grip tightening for a moment before he abruptly lets go, letting the man collapse to the ground in a heap. The man gasps for air, his hands trembling as he scrambles to his feet, his eyes wide with fear.

But Charles isn’t done. He grabs the man by the collar, dragging him deeper into the alley, where the shadows swallow them both. The man’s struggles are weak now, more out of instinct than any real hope of escape.

“People like you,” Charles says, his voice low and menacing, “think you can do whatever you want. But here’s the truth: you’re nothing. Just another coward who preys on the vulnerable. And cowards like you don’t get to walk away.”

The alley is cold and dark, the early morning light barely reaching the grimy corners where Charles drags the man like a lifeless doll. The sounds of Monaco are distant now, just a low hum that fades into the background. The only noise that matters is the ragged breathing of the man at Charles’ mercy, and the echo of their footsteps on the uneven pavement.

Charles stops abruptly, his grip still tight on the man’s collar. He looks around, taking in the silence, the isolation. This place, this forgotten corner of the city, is perfect. No one will find them here. No one will hear what happens next.

He shoves the man against the wall again, harder this time, the force of it knocking the breath out of him. The man lets out a choked gasp, his eyes wide with fear, the bravado from earlier completely gone.

“Please,” he stammers, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean-”

Charles cuts him off with a sharp punch to the gut, and the man doubles over, wheezing. “Don’t bother,” Charles says coldly. “You’re not sorry. You’re just scared. There’s a difference.”

The man tries to straighten up, but Charles doesn’t give him the chance. He lands another punch, this time to the man’s jaw, the crack of bone echoing in the alley. The man’s head snaps to the side, blood already beginning to trickle from his split lip.

“You like hurting people, don’t you?” Charles asks, his voice calm, almost conversational as he paces in front of the man. “That’s what you were doing last night, right? You saw her and you thought you could do whatever you wanted.”

The man groans, trying to push himself up from the ground where he’s fallen, but Charles is on him in an instant, his knee pressing into the man’s chest, pinning him down.

“You thought she was alone,” Charles continues, his voice still eerily calm as he looks down at the man struggling beneath him. “You thought no one would stop you.”

He leans in closer, his knee digging into the man’s ribs, making it harder for him to breathe. “But she wasn’t alone. And now, you’re going to pay for what you did.”

The man tries to shake his head, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. “I’m sorry,” he gasps out, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know-”

Another punch, this one to the side of the man’s face, silences him. Charles doesn’t care about his excuses, his lies. All he cares about is making sure this man understands the pain, the fear that you felt last night.

He grabs the man by the hair, forcing his head up so their eyes meet. The man’s face is already swelling, bruises blossoming under his skin like dark flowers. “You think this is bad?” Charles asks, his voice low, dangerous. “This is nothing compared to what you deserve.”

The man whimpers, his hands weakly trying to push Charles away, but it’s no use. Charles is relentless, his grip like iron as he drags the man up and slams him back against the wall.

“You like to take what you want, don’t you?” Charles says, his breath hot against the man’s ear. “Well, let’s see how you like it when someone takes something from you.”

Without waiting for a response, Charles delivers a brutal kick to the man’s knee, and the sickening sound of bone cracking echoes in the alley. The man screams, a high, desperate sound that only fuels Charles’ anger.

He watches dispassionately as the man crumples to the ground, clutching his leg, his face contorted in agony. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” Charles asks, his voice devoid of any sympathy. “Now imagine how she felt. Imagine how scared she was, how helpless.”

The man tries to crawl away, his movements sluggish, hindered by the pain, but Charles isn’t done. He grabs the man by the ankle, dragging him back, his face set in grim determination.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Charles says, his voice flat, emotionless. “Not until I’m finished.”

He pulls the man up, slamming him into the wall again, his grip never loosening. The man’s head lolls to the side, blood dripping from his nose, his mouth, but Charles doesn’t care. He won’t stop until the man feels every bit of the fear and pain he inflicted on you.

“You think you can just walk away from this?” Charles asks, his voice soft, almost a whisper, but there’s a dangerous edge to it that makes the man’s eyes widen in fear. “You think you can just go back to your life, like nothing happened?”

The man shakes his head weakly, but Charles doesn’t believe him. He knows men like this, cowards who prey on the vulnerable, who think they’re invincible because they’ve never had to face the consequences of their actions.

“Wrong,” Charles says, his voice hard, unyielding. “You’re not walking away from this. Not ever.”

He lands another punch, this one to the man’s ribs, and the man gasps, the air knocked out of him. Charles steps back for a moment, watching as the man collapses to the ground, coughing, wheezing, barely conscious.

“Look at you,” Charles says, his voice filled with contempt as he circles the man like a predator. “Pathetic. All that confidence, all that arrogance — gone. Now you’re just a scared little boy, begging for mercy.”

The man’s eyes flutter open, bloodshot and filled with pain. He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a low, pitiful moan. Charles crouches down beside him, his eyes cold, calculating.

“Did you really think you could get away with it?” Charles asks, his voice soft, almost gentle, but there’s a cruel undertone that makes the man flinch. “Did you think no one would care? That no one would come for you?”

The man doesn’t answer, his body trembling, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Charles watches him for a moment, his anger still simmering, but there’s a part of him — a small part — that feels a twisted sense of satisfaction. This man, this coward, is finally paying for what he did.

But it’s not enough. Not yet.

Charles reaches down, grabbing the man by the throat, his fingers digging into the bruised flesh. The man’s eyes go wide, panic setting in as he struggles to breathe, his hands weakly clawing at Charles’ arm.

“You’re not going to forget this,” Charles says, his voice low, dangerous. “Every time you look in the mirror, every time you see those scars, you’re going to remember what happens when you cross me. When you hurt someone I care about.”

The man gurgles, his eyes rolling back in his head, his body going limp in Charles’ grasp. For a moment, Charles considers finishing it, squeezing the life out of the man until there’s nothing left. But then he releases his grip, letting the man collapse to the ground, gasping for air.

The man barely has the strength to lift his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desperation. “You … you can’t … do this,” he wheezes, his voice weak, barely audible. “I’ll … have you arrested … for attempted murder …”

Charles stares down at him, a cold, humorless smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends a shiver down the man’s spine. “Go ahead,” he says, his voice dripping with contempt. “Try it. See how far you get.”

The man’s eyes flutter closed, his body trembling uncontrollably as the reality of his situation sets in. He’s helpless, broken, barely clinging to consciousness. And Charles knows that the man’s threats are empty, born out of desperation, a final attempt to grasp at some semblance of control.

“You’re nothing,” Charles says, his voice cold, final. “No one is going to believe you. Not after what you did. Not after what I’ve done to you.”

The man’s breath comes in short, shallow gasps, his body shuddering with pain and exhaustion. Charles watches him for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he finally stands up, looking down at the broken, bloodied man at his feet.

“Consider this a warning,” Charles says, his voice low, menacing. “Stay away from her. Stay away from Monaco. If I ever see you again, I won’t stop next time. I won’t show mercy.”

The man doesn’t respond, barely clinging to consciousness, his body slumped against the wall like a discarded puppet. Charles takes one last look at him, his eyes cold, before he turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing in the silent alley.

As he steps out into the morning light, the anger that had consumed him begins to fade, replaced by a cold, detached calm. He knows what he’s done, knows that he’s crossed a line that most people wouldn’t dare to. But he doesn’t care. He did what he had to do, what you needed him to do.

And he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

***

The atmosphere in the police station is tense, a quiet hum of activity threading through the open space. Officers move about, their conversations muted, eyes occasionally flicking toward the door where Charles Leclerc is expected to enter any moment. There’s a palpable discomfort in the air, a mix of respect and unease. No one wants to be the one to arrest Charles Leclerc. And yet, protocol demands his presence.

When Charles finally walks in, the room seems to still. Heads turn, eyes widen slightly. He’s dressed casually — sweatpants, a loose-fitting t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. Despite the nonchalance of his appearance, there’s an unmistakable tension in his shoulders, a hardness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

The desk sergeant, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a lined face, stands up hastily. “Monsieur Leclerc,” he begins, his tone overly formal, almost reverent. “Thank you for coming in on such short notice. We’re, uh … we’re very sorry about this.”

Charles offers a curt nod, his expression unreadable. “What’s this about?” He asks, even though he already knows.

The sergeant hesitates, glancing around nervously. “We, uh, received a complaint this morning,” he explains, his voice wavering slightly. “From a … an individual who claims that you assaulted him.”

Charles’ lips twitch into something resembling a smile, though there’s no warmth in it. “He’s not wrong,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. “I did.”

The sergeant’s eyes widen slightly, and there’s a nervous shifting among the other officers in the room. This isn’t how these things usually go. “Monsieur Leclerc,” the sergeant begins again, more carefully this time, “we understand that this man may have … done something to provoke you. But we have to follow protocol. We need to ask you some questions.”

Charles crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly as he regards the sergeant with a cold, detached stare. “Protocol,” he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. “Fine. Ask your questions.”

The sergeant shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “Did you, uh, did you physically assault the complainant?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

There’s a collective intake of breath from the officers around them, as if they can’t quite believe what they’re hearing. The sergeant blinks, clearly taken aback by Charles’ bluntness. “And … do you regret it?”

Charles laughs then, a dark, humorless sound that sends a shiver down the spines of everyone in the room. “Regret?” He echoes, shaking his head. “No, I don’t regret it. In fact, I’d do it again.”

The sergeant’s face pales, and he looks around as if searching for some way out of this conversation. “Monsieur Leclerc,” he begins again, his voice trembling slightly, “I don’t think you understand the situation. You’ve just admitted to a serious crime. We … we can’t just let you go.”

Charles’ expression hardens, his jaw clenching. “Yes, you can,” he says, his voice cold, unyielding. “And you will.”

The sergeant opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get a word out, the door to the station bursts open, and the man from the alley stumbles in. His face is still bruised, his movements stiff and pained. But there’s a look of triumph in his eyes as he spots Charles standing there.

“There he is!” The man shouts, pointing a shaky finger at Charles. “That’s him! That’s the bastard who tried to kill me!”

Charles turns slowly to face the man, his expression unreadable. There’s a moment of silence, the air thick with tension. The man, emboldened by the presence of the police, takes a step closer, his voice rising with every word. “You think you can just walk away from this, Leclerc? You think you’re untouchable? I’m going to see you rot in prison for what you did!”

Charles doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. The man falters slightly, confused by the lack of reaction. Charles taps the screen a few times, then puts it on speaker.

“What are you doing?” The man sneers, though there’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “Calling your lawyer? That’s not going to save you.”

Charles doesn’t bother to reply. The phone rings once, twice, before a familiar voice answers on the other end.

“Charles,” comes the smooth, authoritative voice of Prince Albert of Monaco. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off the man as he responds. “Your Highness, I’m at the police station. There’s a man here trying to press charges against me for something I did last night.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Prince Albert’s voice, calm and steady, fills the room through the speakerphone. “I see. And what exactly did you do, Charles?”

Charles’ eyes narrow as he stares down the man, who is now looking increasingly nervous. “I made sure he understands that there are consequences for hurting people I care about,” Charles says, his voice low, menacing. “I made sure he knows that no one lays a hand on her without answering to me.”

The silence in the station is deafening. Every officer in the room is holding their breath, waiting to see what happens next. The man’s face drains of color as he realizes what’s happening, who Charles is talking to.

Prince Albert’s voice is measured, careful. “And you believe this was necessary?”

“Yes,” Charles replies without hesitation. “It was necessary.”

There’s another pause, and then Prince Albert speaks again, his tone decisive. “Then I trust your judgment. You did what you had to do. Consider this a royal pardon. I’ll have an official document delivered to the station within the hour.”

The man’s mouth falls open in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You … you can’t do this!” He sputters, his voice rising in desperation. “He assaulted me! He nearly killed me!”

Charles finally lowers the phone, ending the call. He slips it back into his pocket, his expression as cold and unyielding as ever. “You heard him,” Charles says quietly, his eyes locked on the man’s. “You’re done here.”

The man looks around wildly, as if searching for someone to back him up, but all he finds are the wary, sympathetic gazes of the officers. No one is going to help him. No one is going to defy Prince Albert.

The desk sergeant clears his throat, stepping forward. “Monsieur Leclerc,” he says, his voice carefully controlled, “it appears that you’re free to go.”

Charles doesn’t smile. He simply nods, his gaze never leaving the man who stands trembling before him. “Good,” he says softly. “Because I have more important things to do than waste my time here.”

The man opens his mouth to protest again, but the words die on his lips as Charles steps forward, his presence overwhelming, almost suffocating. “You should leave Monaco,” Charles says, his voice low and dangerous. “Before I change my mind about letting you live.”

The man stumbles back, his bravado crumbling as fear takes hold. He casts one last desperate glance at the officers, but they all turn away, unwilling to meet his eyes. He’s alone in this, and he knows it.

With a final, defeated whimper, the man turns and flees from the station, his steps hurried, unsteady. Charles watches him go, his expression unreadable, his heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and satisfaction.

The desk sergeant shifts awkwardly, unsure of what to say. “Uh, I … we’re sorry for the inconvenience,” he stammers. “It’s just … we had to follow procedure …”

Charles waves a hand dismissively, already heading for the door. “It’s fine,” he says, though there’s a hardness in his voice that suggests otherwise. “Just make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

The sergeant nods quickly, grateful for the reprieve. “Of course, Monsieur Leclerc. It won’t happen again.”

Charles doesn’t respond. He steps out into the sunlight, the tension slowly draining from his body as the warmth of the day washes over him. The streets of Monaco are as busy as ever, people going about their lives, oblivious to what just transpired inside the police station.

He takes a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs, grounding himself. The day is far from over, and there are still things he needs to do, but for now, the threat has been neutralized. The man who hurt you is gone, and Charles made sure he’ll never come back.

As he walks away from the station, Charles can’t help but think of you, your face, your voice, the way you smiled at him when you were just a little girl. He knows he’s crossed a line today, done things that most people wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t condone. But he doesn’t care. He did it for you.

And he’d do it all over again if he had to.

***

Charles stands outside your apartment, a paper bag of takeout in one hand, his other raised to knock on the door. He hesitates for a moment, nerves he didn’t expect twisting in his stomach. It’s strange, feeling nervous about seeing you. He’s known you for years — watched you grow up, shared countless family dinners with you, laughed at your jokes, teased you about your school crushes.

But this … this feels different. Everything feels different now.

He finally knocks, a light tap that he knows you’ll hear. A few seconds pass, and then the door swings open, revealing you standing there in a casual outfit, your hair pulled back, a soft smile on your face.

“Charles,” you greet him, your voice warm, familiar. “Come in.”

He steps inside, glancing around the cozy space. It’s a small apartment, but it’s yours, filled with little touches that scream your personality — bookshelves overflowing with novels, a blanket draped over the back of the couch, a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table. It’s homey, comfortable, and it smells like the vanilla candle you always seem to have burning.

“I brought lunch,” Charles says, holding up the bag. “Figured you might be hungry.”

You smile, your eyes brightening at the sight of the food. “You know me too well. What did you get?”

“Your favorite,” he replies, setting the bag down on the table and beginning to unpack it. “Pasta from that little place near the harbor.”

“Perfect,” you say, moving to grab plates from the cupboard. “You always know how to spoil me.”

Charles chuckles, though his mind is far from the light-hearted conversation. There’s something heavy sitting on his chest, something he knows he needs to tell you, but the words stick in his throat. Instead, he focuses on the food, dishing out generous portions onto each plate.

You both sit down at the small dining table, and for a few minutes, there’s nothing but the sound of forks scraping against plates and the occasional hum of satisfaction as you enjoy the meal. It’s comfortable, easy — just like it’s always been between you.

But then, as if sensing his unease, you break the silence. “So, I heard the craziest thing this morning,” you say, your tone light, almost teasing. “One of my friends told me that you were almost arrested yesterday. Can you believe that?”

Charles’ fork pauses midway to his mouth, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn’t expected you to bring it up so casually, hadn’t prepared himself for this moment. He forces a smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Oh? What did she say?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “She said she heard you were involved in some kind of fight and that the police were called. I told her she was crazy. I mean, you wouldn’t hurt a fly, right?”

There’s a playful glint in your eyes, but Charles can’t bring himself to join in. Instead, he sets his fork down, the sound of metal against porcelain unnaturally loud in the quiet room. He looks at you, his expression serious, all traces of his earlier smile gone.

“Actually,” he begins, his voice low, steady, “it’s true.”

Your smile falters, confusion flickering across your face. “What do you mean?”

Charles leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he meets your gaze head-on. “I was at the police station yesterday,” he says, the words heavy, deliberate. “They called me in because that guy — the one who … hurt you — he tried to press charges against me.”

You stare at him, the shock evident in your wide eyes. “Wait, you’re serious? This isn’t some joke?”

“I’m serious,” Charles replies, his voice calm, almost too calm. “I’m not proud of what I did, but I’m not ashamed of it either. He deserved what he got.”

For a moment, you just sit there, trying to process what he’s telling you. You set your fork down, your appetite suddenly gone. “But … Charles, what did you do?”

Charles takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “I made sure he understood that there are consequences for his actions. That he can’t just walk away after what he did to you.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your glass of water, taking a sip to steady yourself. “You … you didn’t …”

“I didn’t kill him,” Charles says quickly, sensing your fear. “But I hurt him. Badly. And I don’t regret it.”

You’re silent for a long moment, your mind racing. The Charles you know — the Charles you grew up with, the one who used to give you piggyback rides when you were too tired to walk — wouldn’t do something like this. But then again, this isn’t just anyone we’re talking about. This is you. And for Charles, you’re different. You’ve always been different.

“I did it to protect you,” Charles continues, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I couldn’t just stand by and let him get away with what he did. I couldn’t …”

He trails off, his gaze dropping to the table, his shoulders slumping slightly. It’s as if all the fight has drained out of him, leaving behind only the raw, honest truth of his actions.

You swallow hard, trying to make sense of everything. “But … you could have been arrested. You could have gone to jail.”

Charles laughs, a bitter sound that holds no real amusement. “Not in Monaco,” he says, shaking his head. “Not for this.”

You furrow your brow, confusion evident in your expression. “What do you mean?”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I talked to Prince Albert. He gave me a royal pardon. The guy had no chance.”

You blink, stunned by the casual way he says it, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “A royal pardon? Charles, that’s … that’s not normal.”

“No, it’s not,” Charles agrees, his tone somber. “But I don’t care. I’d do it all over again if it meant keeping you safe.”

The weight of his words hangs between you, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. You’ve always known Charles was protective of you, but this … this is something else entirely. He’s crossed a line, and there’s no going back.

For a moment, you’re both silent, the tension in the room thick, suffocating. Charles watches you, his heart pounding in his chest, waiting for you to say something, anything. He’s prepared for you to be angry, to be horrified by what he’s done. But he wasn’t prepared for the look of sadness that crosses your face, the way your shoulders slump as if the weight of the world has suddenly fallen on you.

“I don’t know what to say,” you finally whisper, your voice shaky. “I never wanted you to do something like this for me.”

Charles leans forward, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. His touch is warm, steady, and for a moment, it grounds you, pulls you back from the edge of the panic that’s been rising in your chest.

“I know,” he says softly. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. But it’s what I needed to do. I couldn’t just stand by and let him hurt you.”

You squeeze his hand, your grip tightening as if you’re afraid to let go. “But what if you had been arrested? What if you couldn’t get out of it? I couldn’t bear the thought of you being locked up because of me.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Charles replies, his voice firm, resolute. “I told you, I’d do anything to protect you. And I mean it.”

You look up at him then, your eyes searching his, trying to find some sign that this is all just a bad dream, that you’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal. But all you see is the truth — the raw, unfiltered truth of what Charles has done, and why he did it.

“I don’t know if I should be angry or grateful,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “You’ve always been there for me. But this … this is something else.”

Charles smiles then, a small, sad smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You don’t have to be anything,” he says softly. “Just know that I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

For a moment, you just sit there, holding his hand, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. There’s so much you want to say, so much you want to ask, but you can’t seem to find the right words. Instead, you focus on the warmth of his hand in yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his eyes never leave yours.

And then, before you can second-guess yourself, you lean across the table and press your lips to his. The kiss is soft, tentative at first, but it quickly deepens, the tension that’s been building between you finally finding release.

Charles’ hand comes up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. The kiss is everything you didn’t know you needed — desperate, passionate, full of all the emotions that have been bubbling beneath the surface.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you try to catch your breath. Charles’ eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, and there’s a look in them that you’ve never seen before — something raw and vulnerable, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence heavy with the weight of what just happened. Charles’ hand is still in your hair, his thumb gently stroking the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and steady, as if he’s trying to anchor himself in this moment, to hold onto it for as long as he can.

Eventually, you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your own heart pounding so loudly in your ears that you’re sure he can hear it too. “Charles …” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not sure what you want to say, what you’re supposed to say. Everything feels too big, too overwhelming.

Charles doesn’t say anything, just watches you with that same intense gaze, his eyes searching yours for something — reassurance, maybe, or understanding. Slowly, he lowers his hand from your hair, his fingers trailing down the side of your face before he lets it fall to his lap. The loss of his touch leaves you feeling cold, and you almost want to reach out and pull him back to you, to kiss him again and forget everything else. But you don’t.

Instead, you take a shaky breath and try to gather your thoughts, your mind racing. “What … what does this mean?” You finally manage to ask, your voice trembling.

He looks down at his hands, his brows furrowing in thought. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “All I know is that I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve known you my whole life, but … this is different.”

You bite your lip, trying to make sense of it all. “I’ve always cared about you. You know that. But I never thought …” You trail off, unable to finish the sentence, but the implication hangs in the air between you.

Charles finally looks up at you again, his expression softening. “Neither did I,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “But now that it’s happened … I don’t think I can go back. I don’t want to.”

You’re silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you. There’s a part of you that wants to be cautious, to protect yourself from whatever this is, but there’s another part — one that’s stronger — that wants to take the leap, to see where this could go.

“I don’t want to either,” you whisper, the admission almost too much to say out loud. But it’s the truth, and once it’s out there, you feel a sense of relief, as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

Charles’ eyes soften even more, his smile widening slightly. He reaches out, taking your hand in his once more, his grip warm and steady. “Then let’s see where this goes,” he says, his voice low and full of promise.

You nod, unable to keep the smile off your face. “Okay.”

For a moment, you both just sit there, hands intertwined, the food on the table long forgotten as the reality of what just happened begins to sink in. There’s still so much you need to talk about, so many questions that need answers, but for now, this is enough. The kiss, the confession, the promise of something more — it’s all more than you ever expected.

Charles gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes never leaving yours. “Whatever happens next, I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

You smile, your heart swelling with affection. “I know,” you say softly. “And I’m here for you too.”

He nods, his expression earnest. “Good.”

The silence between you is comfortable now, the tension from earlier finally dissipating. You feel a sense of peace settle over you, a feeling that everything will be okay, no matter what comes next.

Finally, Charles glances at the table, his smile turning sheepish. “We should probably finish our lunch,” he says, his tone light.

You laugh, the sound easing the last of your lingering nerves. “Yeah, we probably should.”

You both pick up your forks, and the conversation shifts back to lighter topics, the ease between you returning as if nothing has changed. But you both know that something has. There’s a new understanding between you, a new connection that wasn’t there before. And as you finish your meal, stealing glances at each other across the table, you can’t help but feel excited about what the future might hold.

***

Monaco at night is a different kind of magic. The streets are quieter, the buzz of the day replaced by the hum of luxury cars and the distant sound of waves crashing against the harbor. The city glows with a soft, golden light, the kind that makes everything look a little more romantic, a little more surreal. And tonight, with you tucked into Charles’ side as you walk home from dinner, it feels like the world has shrunk down to just the two of you.

You’ve been together for a few years now, and yet there’s still a thrill in the way he holds you close, his arm draped around your shoulders as if he’s claiming you all over again. There’s something comforting in the familiarity of it, the way your bodies just fit together, like two puzzle pieces that were always meant to be.

The conversation between you is light, filled with teasing banter about the dessert you shared at the restaurant — how he insists you ate most of it, and you argue that he’s the one with the sweet tooth. It’s the kind of easy back-and-forth that comes with knowing someone inside out, with having weathered storms together and come out stronger on the other side.

But as you turn down a quieter street, the atmosphere shifts. It’s subtle at first — a flicker of movement in the corner of Charles’ eye, the sense that you’re being watched. And then, out of nowhere, a voice cuts through the night, crude and jarring in its tone.

“Hey, baby, how about a smile?”

You freeze, your muscles tensing instinctively. The voice belongs to a man leaning against a lamppost, his eyes raking over you with a leer that makes your skin crawl. You feel Charles stiffen beside you, his arm tightening around your shoulders protectively. But before you can react, the man pushes off from the lamppost and approaches, his hand reaching out to touch you.

It all happens in a blur. The man’s fingers graze your arm, and you flinch back, your heart racing. But before you can fully process the disgust that courses through you, Charles is already moving.

The look in his eyes is one you recognize — a dark, dangerous glint that you’ve only seen a handful of times, but each one burned into your memory. It’s the same look he had that night at the club, the night he became more than just your protector, the night everything between you changed.

He’s about to lunge, his body coiled like a spring, ready to unleash all the anger simmering beneath the surface. But you place a hand on his chest, stopping him just in time.

“Charles,” you say softly, but there’s a knowing edge to your voice, a familiarity with the situation. “Should I call Prince Albert? Let him know you might need another pardon?”

Charles pauses, his gaze flickering to yours, and for a moment, the tension eases. The corners of his mouth twitch upward, a dark, almost feral smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice low and laced with a dangerous amusement. “This must be the fourth one this year.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound lightening the mood, if only for a second. “Actually,” you correct him, your eyes sparkling with mischief, “it’s the fifth.”

His smile widens at that, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. But the humor doesn’t last long. The reality of the situation pulls him back, and his expression hardens once more as he turns his attention to the man who dared to touch you.

“Stay here,” Charles says, his tone leaving no room for argument. It’s the voice of a man who’s about to do something he won’t regret — something he’s done before.

You nod, trusting him, knowing that whatever happens next, it’s out of your hands. And as Charles steps away from you, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction, a sense of justice in knowing that this man is about to face the consequences of his actions.

The man, oblivious to the danger he’s in, sneers at Charles, clearly unbothered by the presence of another man. “What are you gonna do, pretty boy?” He taunts, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You think you can scare me?”

Charles doesn’t respond immediately. He takes his time, closing the distance between them with a measured, almost predatory grace. And when he finally speaks, his voice is as cold as ice.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Charles says quietly, the words laced with a threat that hangs heavy in the air.

The man laughs, the sound grating and unpleasant. “Oh, I know exactly who you are,” he sneers. “You’re that driver, right? Leclerc? Big deal. Doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want.”

Charles tilts his head slightly, as if considering the man’s words, and then, to your surprise, he laughs — a dark, cruel sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You think being in public will protect you?” Charles asks, his voice dripping with mockery. “You think because there are people around, I won’t make you regret ever laying a hand on her?”

The man falters, some of his bravado slipping as he realizes that Charles isn’t backing down. He glances around, perhaps expecting someone to come to his aid, but the street is empty, save for a few onlookers who are too far away to hear the exchange.

Charles doesn’t give him time to think. With a speed that takes the man by surprise, he grabs him by the collar, yanking him forward with a strength that belies his lean frame. The man stumbles, his cocky demeanor evaporating as he realizes he’s in over his head.

“You should have walked away,” Charles murmurs, his voice dangerously calm. “But now … now you’re going to pay.”

The man struggles, trying to push Charles away, but it’s futile. Charles is a professional athlete, his body honed for strength and endurance, and the man is no match for him. Within seconds, Charles has him pinned against the wall of a nearby building, his forearm pressed against the man’s throat.

“Get off me, you psycho!” The man chokes out, his voice panicked as he claws at Charles’ arm.

But Charles doesn’t budge. He leans in closer, his face inches from the man’s, his eyes filled with a cold, calculated fury. “You’re going to regret ever touching her,” he says quietly, his words laced with venom.

And then, without warning, he drags the man away from the wall, pulling him down the street with a force that makes it clear this isn’t just a warning — it’s a promise. The man tries to resist, tries to fight back, but it’s no use. Charles is stronger, faster, and more determined, his grip unyielding as he hauls the man toward a darker, more secluded part of the street.

You watch from a distance, your heart pounding in your chest. Part of you wants to stop him, to tell him it’s not worth it, but another part of you— the part that remembers the fear and helplessness you felt when that man touched you — wants Charles to follow through, to make sure this man never does this to anyone else again.

As they disappear around a corner, you take a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You trust Charles, you know he’ll be careful, but you can’t help the worry that creeps in, the fear of what might happen next.

Minutes pass, each one feeling like an eternity, and then finally, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, your breath catching in your throat as you see Charles emerging from the shadows, alone.

His expression is unreadable, his eyes dark and stormy as he walks back to you. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

Then, without a word, Charles pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he’s afraid to let go. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your hair. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You shake your head, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “You don’t have to apologize,” you say softly, your hand cupping his cheek. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He smiles then, a small, tired smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m okay,” he says, though you can hear the weariness in his voice. “But he won’t be bothering you — or anyone else — again.”

You nod, knowing there’s more to the story than he’s telling you, but you don’t press him. Not now, not when he’s holding you so tightly, as if he’s afraid to let you go.

“Let’s go home,” you say gently, taking his hand in yours.

Charles nods, his grip on your hand firm as he leads you back down the street, away from the darkness and into the light. And as you walk together, side by side, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief, a sense of safety in knowing that no matter what happens, Charles will always be there to protect you.

[rubybby22]

Is the princess really getting married?

Charles leclerc x fem reader

Summary: The Princess of Monaco is getting married, but the fans don't know who the lucky one is.

Face: people on Pinterest, and the driver.

Warning: fluff, Instagram AU.

A/N: There will be a second part.

Masterlist

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Ynofficial

Description: Me every time they tell me I should go get ready.

Liked by user56, lewishaamilton, and other 948.983.

user43: Yn doesn’t want to be a princess anymore.

user32: Let’s switch places, girl. ❤️ Like to author

yourbrother: Yn, you shouldn’t post these things.

Ynofficial: Don’t be so strict.

yourbrother: I’m just trying to keep you on the right track.

Ynofficial: How boring.

user3: The best princess I’ve ever seen.

user12: This is too funny.

user34: POV: How to pretend not to be a princess.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: POV: It’s not a POV.

user34: YNNNN!!!!

Ynofficial: Yes, that’s my name.

yourbrother: What am I going to do with you? ❤️ Like to author

user78: What do you have to do today?

Ynofficial: Another one of those shoots for something, honestly, I don’t even know.

user23: Wait, you’re doing a photoshoot and you don’t even know what for?

Ynofficial: Exactly.

Ynofficial

Description: At least I have him to keep me company.

Liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and other 8.483.939.

user45: How cuteeee.

user67: The luckiest little dog in the world.

user221: Yn doesn’t need a boyfriend; she has her dog.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I totally agree.

yourbrother: He’s the only one who deserves to live in the palace.

Ynofficial: I know you love my son more than me, thanks.

yourbrother: I never said that.

Ynofficial: So, you love me?

yourbrother: You trapped me. ❤️ Like to author

user21: The last photo is worthy of a queen.

user34: Maybe you meant goddess?

user56: Guys, doesn’t that dog look like Leclerc’s dog?

user7: Who’s Leclerc?

f1lover: How can you not know? He’s a god on earth.

user90: He’s an F1 driver who has a dog of the same breed named Leo.

user50: Now that I think about it, they adopted them around the same time.

user54: Coincidence?

Ynofficial

Description: Okay, okay, I have to admit I had fun this time.

Liked by user43, checoperez, and other 98,453.

yourbrother: I told you.

Ynofficial: You usually tell a lot of lies.

user45: I love the relationship between Yn and her brother.

❤️ Like to author

user6: The heir to the Monaco throne.

user7: He’s very kind, I met him.

Ynofficial: Try living with him, then we’ll see.

user21: Were the jewels real?

Ynofficial: Yes, and they’re really heavy too.

user6: I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.

Ynofficial: The clothes are super uncomfortable tooooo.

user67: But they’re beautiful.

user0: They look amazing on her.

Ynofficial: I can’t wait to take them off.

Ynofficial

Description: A date before saying goodbye.

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and other 4.784.839.

user21: Who are you with, girl?

Ynofficial: With a human being.

user6: The luckiest human in the world. ❤️ Like to author

user5: YN OF MONACO WHAT ARE YOU DOING??

user34: Thank you, Yn.

user1: Whoever it is should thank their lucky stars every day to be with someone like Yn.

❤️ Like to author

user45: So, is she engaged??

user41: Yn, don’t play these tricks on us.

user67: It’s not funny.

user3: I love the dress.

Ynofficial: I don’t, they forced me to wear it.

user56: No way we could afford it.

user32: I wish I were a princess.

Ynofficial: Wish granted, please come take my place.

user6: Guys, isn’t the Monaco GP today?

user5: Oh God, you’re right.

user43: Do you think she’s going to the GP?

user8: I didn’t know she was into F1.

user09: Neither did I.

user5: Yn is the black sheep of the family.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: You’re absolutely right.

user56: That description doesn’t sound like you.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Sorry, too poetic.

yourbrother: Mom wants to talk to you.

user6: Trouble’s coming.

Ynofficial: Time to run off to Mexico. Checo, will you host me?

checoperez: Whenever you want. ❤️ Like to author

user32: Wait, they know each other???

user9: Did I miss something?

user78: What does this dialogue even mean?

user76: YN?

Ynofficial

Description: Guess who’s not supposed to be wandering around the paddock?

Liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and other 877.473.738.

gp1: YN OF MONACO.

vroom: Wait, they allowed her to go to the GP??

race: I think at least someone from the royal family always has to be there?

user43: YN, DID YOU MEET CHARLES?

Ynofficial: 🤫🤫.

16_55: IT’S A YESSS.

user2: MY TWO FAVORITE PEOPLE MEETING. ❤️ Like to author

yourbrother: Where did you go? Mom’s going to be very angry.

Ynofficial: Cover for me.

yourbrother: Wait, what?

Ynofficial: Thanks, love you.

yourbrother: No, Yn, come back here, we agreed to stay low-key.

Ynofficial: No one will see me.

yourbrother: That includes me too, right?

Ynofficial: Maybe yes, maybe no.

63_: I love this woman.

user42: Is the car comfortable?

Ynofficial: My princess ass didn’t appreciate it.

user21_: That’s why you’re my favorite princess.

Ynofficial: I don’t think you know any others.

danielricciardo: Princess Yn is a fan of mine.

Ynofficial: You’re my childhood.

danielricciardo: I’m not that old.

Ynofficial: Don’t worry, Daniel, it’s hard to accept.

landonorris: Wait, Daniel met her and I didn’t?

maxverstappen1: He’s just privileged.

Ynofficial: I’m coming to you, don’t fight.

user98: Everyone wants Yn. ❤️ Like to author

81_4: She’s anything but a princess.

f1lover: Please marry me.

Ynofficial: Sorry, I’m a bit busy.

Ynofficial

Description: As a good princess, I have to congratulate Charles Leclerc for winning his home race, Monaco. Congratulations, Predestined One.

Liked by charles_leclerc, f1, and other 42.457.473

f1lover: How sweet, Yn.

ferrarifan: After this post, I’m over the moon.

race_: The Monaco curse is broken.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Yes, but now Charles has to endure at least a month of bad luck.

charles_leclerc: Thank you, Yn. ❤️ Like to author

charles_leclerc: I thank you, Your Highness, for wasting two minutes to make the post. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Consider yourself lucky.

landonorris: Will the next victory post be dedicated to me?

georgerussell63: Keep dreaming, mate. ❤️ Like to author

oscarpiastri: Charles has reached the pinnacle of his career after this post.

carlossainz55: I can hear him laughing and blushing from here. ❤️ Like to author

maxverstappen1: Princess, may I humbly request your attention? ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I always have my full attention on you, Max Emilian Verstappen.

charles_leclerc: No, today is my day, step aside. ❤️ Like to author

user56: Is Charles jealous??

user45: Max asking for Yn’s attention?

Ynofficial

Description: I can officially say I’m off-limits.

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and other 98,457.633.

yourbrother: I’m so happy for you, little sister.

❤️ Like to author

landonorris: Can I be the best man?

Ynofficial: No, you might show up to the wedding already drunk.

maxverstappen1: You said yesss! ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I said yesss!

georgerussell63: Congratulations, guys.

❤️ Like to author

lewishamilton: Congrats, but honestly, I expected it.

❤️ Like to author

oscarpiastri: He has the eyes of love.

❤️ Like to author

user44: No, okay, we need to figure out who it is.

f1lover: It’ll be the most beautiful wedding ever.

ynlove: Our little girl is growing up.

charleslec_: I hope it’s Charles.

race: It’s definitely a driver.

vroom: I don’t know; it could also be a prince or noble.

user32: I doubt it, knowing Yn.

ynqueen: Love is blind.

user3: Whoever it is, I’m so happy for you.

user77: I’m going to drop a bomb: I think it’s Max.

maxie_: Oh God, yes, can you imagine??

1_11: The best couple ever.

Ynofficial: I like your theories.

user66: Yn, help us, please.

cl16: Has anyone noticed Charles didn’t even comment?

55_: Strange.

Ynofficial

Description: Goodbye, Monaco.

Liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and other 757.648.

yourbrother: I can’t believe mom let you go.

carlossainz55: Knowing Yn, she would’ve gone anyway. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: My friends know me too well.

user43: Wait, how long have they known each other???

formula1_: More importantly, since when does Yn love F1?

f1lover: It’s a new thing, actually.

race: Yn, princess of the people.

Ynofficial: Always at your service.

landonorris: Now she’s getting a big head.

charles_leclerc: As soon as they offered you to skip your duties, you accepted right away.

Ynofficial: You shouldn’t talk to a princess like that.

charles_leclerc: And you shouldn’t talk to a prince like that.

f1love: WAIT, WHAT DID CHARLES MEAN???

charlesmylife: Guys, Yn deleted it.

charelsofmonaco: No, I don’t understand.

16cl: I arrived too late 😭😭😭.

Flove1: Finally, we have proof that this man exists.

user65: I was convinced it was a joke.

user90: Secret agents of the world, unite, we need to find out who Yn’s boyfriend is.

user67: YN, WE HAVE TOO MANY QUESTIONS.

Ynofficial: And I have zero answers.

user56: Where are you running to, girl?

Ynofficial: Away from nobility.

Ynofficial

Description: I had to try the ice cream in Italy.

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and other 74.673.883.

yourbrother: Bring me some.

Ynofficial: No.

charles_leclerc: I’ll bring it to you.

Ynofficial: Since when are you two so chummy?

f1lover: No okay, we missed something.

race: Something important.

Formula1: Is that Leo or Yn’s dog?

f_1: The numbers don’t add up.

user78: I can’t tell them apart.

user1: They look the same.

landonorris: Good job, Yn, distract him so I can win in Monza.

carlossainz55: NO, YN, BRING CHARLES HERE NOW.

Ynofficial: Now I don’t know what to do anymore.

user56: Yn is a princess even outside of Monaco.

user09: How cute is the guy tying her shoes?

[rubybby22]

Their Little Agent

Pairing: mafia! (taeyong, Jaehyun, Mark, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin) x undercover agent! reader

Genre: SMUT, Romance, Mafia

W.C: 32k. Network: @k-vanity

Warnings: smut smut smut...YES I AM DOWN BAD FOR NCT...mention of crimes, trafficking and talk of selling off reader, inappropriate touch, dirty talks, and they got good beatings from our y/n, mention of mafia business and dirty business, threats, crying, sedative, unconscious, blood, trust, sexual-harassment (just a small mention), possessiveness, pool sex, fingering, cock-warming, biting, choking, lots of kissing, anger, dominance, corruption, dom-sub dynamic, threesome, four+fivesome(?), slight switch! reader, slight switch! hyuck, dom! nct, sub! reader, oral(f and m rec.), voyeorism, lots of cum, clothes on sex, nipple play, edging, orgasm denial, unprotected sex(don’t do it sillies), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, aftercare and the romance.

NOTE: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate. I don’t know if this is how you wanted it to be but I hope you have enjoyed <3. @jolinaprincess thanks for waiting for this so long and here it comes the menu you have ordered. I deserve NCT, please help me to get them. pleaseeeeee ;~; MDNI🔞

HAVE FUN BABYGIRLS!

The  Flamingo Club is always vibrant and loud like many other days. Even if the venue is a nightclub, with its different guests visiting the rooms led it to become busier in the daytime too. The different businessmen requested for the private rooms and scheduled the meetings in the early hours of the morning. It welcomes a lot of workers in different positions and well you ought to be the one of them.

Being a government official, also an undercover agent, you need a change of environment. Of course, you can't lead a normal life like any other person but definitely can escape reality for a while. A nightclub offers an exhilarating escape from the everyday, where music, dance and social interaction create unforgettable experiences. Moreover, for you this is more than just an enjoyment. This nightclub attracts a diverse crowd, often including young adults, party goers and socialites. Some have dresses ranging from casual chic to more formal. You have heard about the security and safety measures of the club – it has strict protocol and policies to maintain a safe environment.

But it's far from that. There's news in the underground world that the nightclub is rumored to be a part of a trafficking ring that deals with children to young adults. Even if sometimes, you are not on official terms with government work, yet you have an unethical right to be an undercover agent for your team. Well thanks to Wooyoung for still keeping the trust in you and giving you the known position but without letting anyone else know about it. Your team is well professional to keep this as a secret and you are helping them in a lot of work when you are not assigned. Not like you loved to do it but an inner instinct worked to do the work for good, your stubbornness.

And, so as you joined the club as a waitress, a new mission of finding out the hidden secrets of the club. You introduced yourself as a broke university student, thanks to Hongjoong for the fake id card and your false family details. You scoffed mentally about San -- as your older brother and he is staying abroad. What a loser story!  Who will believe that he is actually an official snipper and if the person in front of you doesn't allow you to work over at the place, then his end is right at the moment by your so-called fake brother.

"so, you are working here for a while?" the man sips his drink, eyes checking out your black corset dress, length ending just above your knee with black and silver straps adorning your shoulders. You are an attractive and special waitress who is often referred to serve the private customers. Do you love the job? Hell no! if they think about doing anything further, you are going to chop the hand off and kill them, then and there.

You look up from the tray where you are placing the different Bourbon bottles and fancy glasses for a group of people sitting at the far corner of the dance floor, "one month to be well aware of your useless antics." your one brow raised and a sly smirk admiring your red lips.

His eyes are fixed on your pillowy lips and licked his own lower lip, meeting your gaze once again, "didn't mean any harm with a light conversation. You know, I can't leave a young beautiful girl like you alone doing her work here. Why don't you enjoy the floor like everyone else?"

You inhaled before taking the tray in your hold and stepping aside from the counter. The man also leaned back from the other side of the counter and following your movements, he could see a little bit of tiredness in your form. Halting in your steps, you whipped your hairs by a swift movement of your head and glanced at his standing figure. A black neat suit with his black undershirt buttons undone from top and stopped in the middle, his bare sweaty chest peeking. He catches your gaze when he whistles and smiles quickly when you glare at him.

"I don't have time like others." You glance towards the people of your age, laughing and dancing crazily like maniacs. "why don't you go and join them?"

"I'm waiting for you." Staring at his face, you see his plump lips, neon lights falling on his pointy noise with his flirty gaze and his messy black hair is really complimenting his look.

You roll your eyes at his boldness when you step forward towards the direction of the table. A presence made aware behind you when you stop and quickly turn around, "now don't follow me-"

"don't go out alone today. You are not safe there." The man is no longer flirting with you but having a serious expression and looking around to scan his surroundings but you are nowhere believing any of his words because you are well aware of your goal to be at this exact place and your position to get yourself safely out of any danger.

Tilting your head to the side, you smirk, "do you know me?"

"no but-"

"Then don't even care about me." you licked your lower lip with the tip of your tongue and stared at him, "don't think of following me again, Mr. pretty face." With that you left him there standing at the middle of the way towards the lounge area at the end. He stares at your figure and brings his glass to the lips, smirking into the glass while sipping the liquid.

Humming to the taste, he closed his eyes, "so sweet and sexy."

.

.

.

Serving the customers is not big of a deal but encountering some psycho and weird assholes are the real problems. Just like right now, the table where you are placing the glasses and pouring the respective drinks into it.

"baby, how much more do we need to offer for a single night?"

You continue to ignore those shitheads until one grabs your hand and pulls you on his lap. You gritted your teeth and attempted to stand up when he brings his arms around your waist, bringing you close to his body, the smell from him is disgusting --- the reek of sweat and alcohol. You want to throw up so bad. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Come on darling. Don't be a joy-kill. We all want fun and you are fighting away the feelings." He brings his face closer to yours when you turn away in disgust. Only if he knew that you can just call your teammates to kill him and bury his rotten body somewhere unknown.

"do you have a death wish, fucker?" you glare at his direction and his friends.

He laughs with his friends loudly, "aww, trying to act feisty. You are too sweet for that. But the name is Jackson for you."

"fucker suits you more." A sudden voice boomed and there he stood --- another pretty face. Well, he looks a bit more manly than the previous man. And the expression on his face clearly shows that he is not having it for good. "I would suggest for you to leave her."

"and, why would I?" that fucker has the audacity to tighten his grip around you and chuckles at him, "are you her knight in armour or like that?"

The standing man smirks, a fresh refreshment drink in hold, when your eyes met, he signals you to look down and then when you understood the point, one hand around you has been loosened and taking the opportunity in advantage, you hit your elbow to his side of the end ribs and quickly stepped away.

"What the hell!"

The smirking man mimics his tone but chuckles, "wow the heavens. Well done, princess." You don't know why but the endearment feels so loved and it really did make you blush but you soon compose yourself to stare at the scene with wide eyes. The man beside you punches the fucker across his face.

"You know you deserve much more than that but I'm not in a mood." His husky voice really does wonder to you. But there's one more thing, he is not afraid of violation and he looks so familiar. Is he related to some well known people who could help him with this?

"you-", before that shithead could stand up, the man threw his liquid at his face.

He scoffed, "you don't learn lessons in one go. No wonder you are here with your useless friends."

"I will just-"

"Jackson, your dad is calling. He won't be happy to know that we got in a fight here. Let's go." One of the friends stood up and signaled others to quickly exit the club and when the said boy was not budging from his position, the other one dragged him from there but still he gave a flying threat, "I will see you around and won't leave you so easily."

"of course, if you stay alive." The man winks and watches the boy being dragged away to the door. When he turns to your side and you are already picking up the two sealed bottles from the table, "what are you doing?"

"picking up these two. Don't want to let it go to waste." You stand in front of him, blinking up at his tall figure, "you shouldn't have to beat him. it might get you in trouble."

"don't worry about that. You were in trouble so I had to but you should have fought for yourself." He tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, "a princess like you attracts bad people a lot." You pull your lower lip between your teeth.

"thanks. I didn't want to get in a fight...an useless one. My manager would have gotten me out of here soon though." You tell him and spot your partner in this night-shift walking towards you, your eyes return to meet his mysterious brown orbs. The music felt deafening the longer you stared at him, his aura is pulling you in towards him even when you know that you have no such time for some...love?

"I should get going..."

When you step aside, he grabs your arm and to which you, surprisedly look at his eyes, "can I get your name?" his flawless skinned face and his black hairs falling over his forehead, adding an attractiveness to his already charming look. His black coat with a white shirt tucked neatly, makes him look like a perfect gentleman and he might be here after office hours to wash off the stress and anxiety.

You can't disclose your name to a stranger but still an inner voice is screaming at you to tell him everything about you. Are you going crazy? Maybe. You part your lips, fighting with your own thoughts when you blurted out, "Ruby." A fake name should work, apparently this is the name you are going by in this club.

"Well, that really suits your red lipstick. You look pretty." He smiles, his eyes shining under the lights and loosening his hold around your arm, but you keep staring at him, as if you have something to say but you escape the place quickly. He chuckles at your running figure and brushes back his hairs, fishing out his phone and pressing a certain name to call and bring it to his ears.

He sits on a chair in front of a bar across from yours, on the other side of the other dance floor,

"Hey, Taeyong...are we still up for the meeting?"

He watches your figure working with the amount of glasses altogether and occasionally glances at the dance floor and at the upper floor private area entrance. He furrows his brows in curiosity and leans back in his chair, the more he is watching you the more interesting you seem. Handing over an order tray to your partner, you slump into a chair beside you and your eyes wander around the venue. What are you watching? Your gaze stops on a particular spot and he follows the direction when he spots someone familiar.

"He is here."

The person on the other side of the call hums, "good. What are you doing right now?"

The man at the club's bar, taking the glass from the counter and swirls the liquid, chuckling into the call, his eyes returning to your direction when your eyes meet. The corner of his lips curls up and he gestures his glass upward to cheer you, sending a quick smile to him, you went back to work.

"I think I like it here. Never knew this place could be more interesting and pretty."

Taeyong chuckles on the other side of the call, "and what's the name of this pretty distraction?"

"Ruby." The man tastes the name on the tip of the tongue and lets it roll for a while as if he is calling you for some reason. His eyes are still in your direction, you can see you are focusing on the people entering the venue and sitting around the chairs near the bars, often meeting your sparkling yet tired eyes.

"That's her name? Oh, I want to see her."

The man shakes his head, sipping the liquid, "that's the color of the red lipstick she is wearing."

"Man...you are so gone for it. I want to see her too. And you know her being there can be a threat too." Taeyong's serious voice made the man nod his head and hum in agreement. "Well, I'll be there soon. Save for me some."

"of course."

It's been such a busy shift tonight but without any important work done. You are keeping your attention on everything, everyone and every corner. The conversations around you are boring --- rather useless. What will you do with their unhappy times in their relationships? Some having down days at the workplace? Some have family issues. You scoff mentally at the thought --- atleast they have a family. I don't even know how that feels.

The phone in your pocket rings and starts vibrating, it's a signal for you to excuse yourself from the washroom and as soon as you are away from the loud area and inside a cubicle, you wait for everyone to leave the restroom area until you lock yourself inside it.

"hello!", saying it in a low voice, you check your surroundings to keep assured that no one is there.

"hey, looking pretty, by the way. So, got any info?"

You sigh and lean against the counter and look at your reflection on the mirror, lining with the golden lights, giving it a classy and expensive look with the white tiled walls and marbled floor. "nothing, Wooyoung. I doubt if the news was true." You are pretty and many have said it to you but you want to feel pretty, to get to know that someone desires to be with you for how you lead your life --- how pathetic and stressful you live.

All those boys and men just want to spend a night because your body and face is pretty. They don't want to know about you --- who you are and what you do.

"smarty pants, If we knew what's right and wrong. Do you think you would be there to find out?" he laughs into the call and you roll your eyes at his antics. It's his usual behavior and after all these years, you are used to his nonsense and teasing.

"I think I'm gonna leave tonight soon. Let's see for one more week and then I am off to a different country."

"but you said there's supposed to be a meeting. What about that?" now he is curious but he can't pressure you to do your work because he knows better, that you always do it perfectly and neatly.

You nod, putting away stray hair from your face, smiling to yourself, "what do I get after this mission?"

"y/n?"

"tell me. will I get to live a life like others? Like the way those around my age wasting their night over the drinks and dancing their hearts out and then their loved ones taking care of them after going back home. What about me, Woo?" your voice in the end is just above a whisper.

He gets what you are feeling, sometimes you get overwhelmed with all this stress and being an undercover means to live different lifestyle with different identity yet being distant from everyone around you but you loved this job but after the day the leader, Hongjoong shouted on you for messing up a mission, you feel yourself low and think of quitting this job but for your teammate's sake, you are stuck in this place.

"you will get money and then you can have fun for a while. I'll tell Hongjoong to give you a break, meanwhile I can manage this job with Yeosang."

"I'll not mess this mission up like the last one. I promise." you glare at your reflection.

"I trust you, y/n."

You shake your head, "Ruby. Call me that."

"okay, agent. Copy that."

.

.

.

"are you leaving for home?" Giselle eyes your handbag and your fingers working to call a cab, nodding your head to her question, you search for an appropriate location to drop you at because you can't reveal your address to anyone. "you have one more customer to serve."

"you can do it for me."

"I wish I could but my friends are already here tonight and Boss has assigned you for the service." She smiles and grabs her beer bottle, which is already drunk one-fourth of it. you eye her, the excitement to meet her friends visible on her face and you envied it at the moment yet you felt happy for her that she has people waiting for after her work. "I have prepared the tray for you, bring it to room no. 0127." She leans closer to your ear, "I heard an important business meeting is going on. No one is allowed unless asked for. Be quick, girl."

Leaving you at the couch behind the counter, she skips towards her friends' table and you roll your eyes before groaning internally and resting your head against the leather headrest, closing your eyes and feeling tired of all this chaos. You are going to kill those people who are running the trafficking ring for making you work so hard. Wait. Is it something related to the business meeting in this room?

Forcing your eyelids to part, you pulled yourself from the comforting posture and stood on your heels which is already your biggest enemy at the moment. Taking the tray in your hold, leaving your bag at a safe place and putting your phone inside the pocket, making your way to the V.I.P. area. The loud music is booming inside the venue and there you silently walk towards the stairs.

The half-spiral stairs leading to the next floor for the VIP section where the security protocol is tighter and without any official worker or any top tier customers, the entry is impossible.

Scanning your id at the entrance, the security permitted your entry and as soon as you stepped inside the heavy wooden and metal door, a different soothing atmosphere and pleasant smell surrounded you, the closed doors restricting the loud chaotic atmosphere behind it. it's peaceful here but there's this itching danger around you.

The room plate in front of you is the one your last service spot and you ring the bell quickly to get over with this night. It's weird to take so long to open a door but you wait, tapping your feet against the floor and getting impatient with every passing second. Your eyes lock with a man walking towards you in the long hallway but stop at the door beside the one you were at, he eyes your whole figure and smirks at the view, but when your eyes land on a suitcase, your curious eyes scan his whole formal business look.

He enters his door when the door in front of you opens.

"you?" the young man in front of you raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, eyeing your tray and then your face. "free drinks?"

"who is there, Hyuck?"

He pokes the inner cheek with his tongue and chuckles sassily, "a pretty waitress with free drinks." he glances inside the room and then back at you, "your treat?"

"well to break your bubble, I'm not your treat giver. You have paid for this and I'm just here to give it to you. So, if you please excuse me then I'm going to pour it to you or leave it on your table. Whatever you wish!" you are on the edge of losing your mind for him to keep you standing there. A fake smile plastered on your face when he moved aside to welcome you inside the room and you heard a commotion from the door beside. Ignoring it but still, you want to know it. is it about some business you are doubting?

Entering the room, without looking at anyone or to your surroundings, you walk straight towards the table when you hear a laugh from the corner, "never expected to meet you again...also here." The man named Hyuck closes the door and returns to the couch, beside a man around his age.

Hearing the same seductive voice, you place the tray on the table and turn towards the direction, when your eyes meet, his sultry smiling face is already staring at your way, when you smirk and folds your hands below your chest, "oh, Mr. Pretty Face." Feeling a lot of eyes on you, still you keep your focus on the smiling face.

"My pretty waitress." He stood up from the corner of the room and walked towards you, "so what's all these drinks for? Your invitation to have fun together."

"so, have you met her too?" wait. This voice, quickly turning your neck, you met those eyes again, "we meet again, Ruby."

Your surprise did get noticed by both of them and when they chuckle, a third voice speaks up, "is this the pretty distraction you were saying earlier?" you notice an attractive male manspreading on the single cushioned leather chair, "hello, thanks for the drinks." He gestures to the glass in a cheer motion. He is an epitome of perfection for his facial features.

"these are the drinks you all asked for. If you need something else, then do tell me. my shift is soon over." You said calmly and took a quick note of the men inside the luxury suite. Six in total and you have no names --- except the pretty face and Hyuck, if that's the actual name. they seem like they are having a meeting but you need to know more. The important business is going to happen today but why are you without any clue and solutions? "these are not my treats. Sorry to disappoint you."

"so, are you free after this shift?" the man who saved you from those shitheads asks and waits for your reply. His gaze is flickering between your lips and eyes.

The man who called you 'pretty distraction' raised a brow at you, "then the drinks?"

"this is for Room No. 0128." Hyuck raised a note from the tray, he quickly turns towards him, "isn't he there?" he takes the tray from the table and hand it over to you, the quick action makes you lose the balance of it but quickly handles the bottles properly and glare at him, "take this there quickly and tell me how many of them are there and," he pulls out his phone to show you a picture, the man you met at the door, "if this person is there then let us know about it."

So, the business is interesting.

"and why would I?"

"it's for your own good." Your savior speaks up, "how much do you need?"

"I don't work on money. A reason is what I need and that's enough for me to do everything." You smile back at them.

A fifth man who was all these times busy on his phone speaks up, "the reason is to save lots of lives. Young girls and innocent women. So, think carefully about not helping us. You will regret it later." He said coldly.

Who are they?

"who are you all?" now you are aware of the surroundings, an alert siren ringing inside your head. The news is true and this would be the best opportunity to catch the culprits but the heck these people are. "I'm not doing anything."

"fifty lakhs."

Your tongue tip touches the roof of the mouth, "you are bribing me?" shaking your head in disappointment, you chuckle softly, "you don't even know me." meeting their eyes, you curl your hair, "I might hand you over to the police or maybe if you are related to some illegal shits then fate is cruel for you."

A sudden cold laugh breaks your strong atmosphere. You turn around to face the man, he was standing by the side of the terrace door and drinking his wine, staring at you with his piercing eyes, you have noticed him earlier at the bar. He was watching you like a creep and to say more, you did feel scared of him. "y/n, don't make this hard. You are also searching for the culprits here today...like us."

What? How does he know your name? your eyes go wide and gulping down the fear, you feel yourself trapped in a confined place. This man knows you and maybe others as well. Slowly, looking around, your eyes meet the others, noticing their surprise and smirking expression. They know you? You are quiet and this gave the man who uttered your name the confidence to walk over to you. Just two feet away from you, he bends down and meets your wide eyes, "don't deny the fact of being undercover here. Helping us will only benefit you and we can catch them easily. We can approach them through you."

"who are you?" you ask quietly. This is not you. Speak up. You can't disclose your identity and submit yourself to him, to them like this. They can be a possible threat to you and you should let Wooyoung know about this, when you step back, he places his glass on your tray, and you ask him again, "why should I trust you?"

"I can't hurt you, y/n. I won't do anything. I promise." He stands straight, "your safety is in my hands. Jeno would never cause you any harm, not even a single scratch. Trust me."

Jeno...this name sounds foreign yet familiar to you. Once it was so endearing to you. You had everything in your mind related to this name. you clutched the tray tightly. He can't be here. this man is from a mafia gang and you are a government official undercover. How can you both be together? You have never seen his face but the only member-name from the gang was his that you got in that mission, which you failed miserably. His leader is way smarter than you and that irritates you so much. Aren't they with the trafficking ring, then why are they helping you? Wanting your help? Whatever.

You have seen his eyes that night, the smirk behind that mask and the leader beside him had that proud look under the cap shadowing his face.

"we are not monsters, y/n." the attractive man who has a leader aura stands up from the sofa, trudging towards you slowly, "we once used to work for the government like you but you know, there's nothing beneficiary or worthy to risk your life. In the end, you are going to get the blame for everything." He stands close to you, "like you got the blame for failing the last mission. Even when you did your best. Even when they knew you could have died in our hands to catch us but they only cared for the outcome, not your life. You are just like us, the past us. And, we can't see you getting down this path."

Care? They are showing you care. Shrugging the feeling, you take deep breaths, nodding suddenly. The two men near you watching you keenly when a voice catches your attention, the one who was busy on phone earlier, falling lights when he comes near shows a younger face with round eyes, prominent cheekbones, chuckling at you, "don't worry. We are not going to make you a part of the mafia. You should be pure and innocent like you are."

"I am not innocent. I have seen people die in front of me. I have seen a lot more than I should." You mumble quietly. "but what will I get after I help you?"

"what do you want? Money?" Hyuck asks you.

You shake your head but before you could speak more, the pretty face speaks up, "your safety. We will ensure your safety forever. You are under our protection."

"I don't need to be protected. It's just I don't want those innocent people to lose their families. I want to save them and so help me with that." You said and turned on your heels towards the table and placed the tray on that, you fished out your phone, dialed the top number and waited for the voice to be on speaker.

"hey, did you-"

"Woo, you are on the speaker." Casting a glance towards the six men around the room, you speak into the call, "I got some...people here, who are going to help us in this and I hope getting this done by tonight. Bring all the forces here. We are going to catch them."

His worried voice echoes in the silent room, "are you okay, y/n? who are these people? Is it okay to trust them? Are you sure?"

Licking your lips, you sigh, "yes. Trust me. come here fast."

"okay. Be safe."

Cutting the call, you stare at them, the man who was a phone addict comes in front, "are you ready?"

"always."

He hands you an earpiece, it's designed in a way which looks like an earring in an unique style, your curious eyes staring at it when he takes it and places it over your ear, tugging your hairs properly, "this is connected to our phones. When you are speaking into it, we can hear all of your conversation. It can even record your whispers so whatever we will be asking, you have to tell us quickly. Can you do this?"

You nod, placing your fingers over it, "yes." You heard your voice from one of the devices, it belongs to your savior. He smiles and nods.

The man in front of you holds your shoulder, meeting his sharp gaze, you see his eye-smile, "you will be safe. Trust me."

"and what will you say when you are in danger?" The man with round eyes and younger features asks you when you glance at him and at Jeno then towards your savior. You mutter softly, "Ruby."

Taking the tray in your hold and turning towards the door, Hyuck is already waiting for you with the door open for you to exit, "let's start, little agent." He eyes Jeno's half-filled glass on your tray and smirks, "keep this glass. You know when to use this."

Little agent. Why is your heart fluttering? This is not you, y/n and you are still trusting a mafia gang. A ruthless mafia gang who is claiming themselves as the people who want to help innocent ones from trafficking. You are going to be under their protection and they swore your safety.

.

.

.

You whisper, "hey..." standing in front of the door and waiting for them to open. You hear two voices, confirming they can hear you properly and they have access to the C.C.T.V. in front. You glance at the two cameras facing towards the area where you are standing.

A young man swings open the door, a gush of smoke hits your senses when he speaks up, "oh, dear lady. Come inside." Taking steps inside the door, your heart thumping against your chest, "we ordered the drinks a while ago. It took so much time for you to bring it. busy?"

You hear a scoff from your earpiece. You force a smile while placing the tray on a counter at the side of the room, preparing their drinks, "there was an urgent customer call. Sorry for the late service."

Another voice speaks up and you know him, Mr. Kim Yeonghun. The main suspect of this ring and the worst man to ever exist, "oh no worries, lady. You can make it up to us in some ways." You saw him entering the club, he was with a young girl. Where is she? Also, Hyuck showed you his picture.

Feeling a hand on your hip, your breath hitches, the touch is inappropriate and you are fighting the urge to roll out his hands but you are out-numbered and to catch them, you need to keep calm. Turning around, you scan the room, four people in total and might be their securities and bodyguards around the club. You whispered, "four. He is here."

"okay! Now make him confess. Do something for that and three of us are going to spread around the venue to search for the possible places to find the rooms where they kept the captives." This voice is of the attractive man. Why didn't you get their names already? You can only call Jeno or Hyuck if you need help but what if he is not available. Anyways.

"you should not touch someone without her consent." You speak politely even when you want to glare at these old hags. "I can report you all to others."

The four of them laugh loudly, you felt a little humiliated at the scene but you hear a soft seductive voice in your ear, "be calm, y/n. we will get them afterwards." You hum and face the old men. The man with whom you made eye contact earlier at the door with the suitcase, smirks at you.

"you are funny, little lady." He stands up, stepping closer to you, "do you think you have powers over us? You can't even get out of this room alive to say anything to anyone. Even if you manage to escape, no one is going to believe you and no one will be there to help you to get us caught."

Mr. Kim's best friend Mr. Park, who touched you a moment ago speaks up, "you know we can do anything with you here. No one would ever get a hint of it." his eyes scan your whole form, "and judging the way perfect you are. We are going to get a good amount out of you." He chuckles in the end.

Your fists tighten by your side, gritting your teeth, you glare at him, "what are you going to do?"

He tilts his head, "to have fun with you and then sell you."

"no. you can't do this." Gulping down the fear, you continued, "you won't do this. Government is already in the search of the trafficking leaders for the last two years and they will get to know about this soon. You all are going down."

The one who opened the door for you speaks up, "so? You are going to inform them about us? Think you can do this? Aw...you are in our territory with no escape, young lady."

Someone holds your arms and brings them to your back, blocking your way to fight, the man in front grabs your chin, glaring at you, "we will let you know who we are and then your fate is going to be the same as those useless money worthy whores." The stinging pain in your arm and chin making you hiss. Mentally counting to three, you kick the man in front of you with your knee and with a bump with your head, you hurt the man holding you to escape his grip. When you see Mr. Kim approaching you, you take Jeno's glass and throw it towards his face, the liquid is all over him and the glass hit his nose. You whisper, "Ruby." Hearing no reply from the other side, your heart clenches at the thought that they might be in danger or.... They lied to you.

"you bitch." Your trance breaks when Mr. Kim trudges towards you, you need to get towards the door and Wooyoung should be here by now with his team. Someone holds your arm, yanking you towards him, "you think you can escape? Never." They are strong and can fight well, of course they can, they are all well trained even when they are ten years older than you. Old. But strong.  You twist his hand, kicking him in the balls and making him kneel down when you push the other man who is trying to grab your free hand, you glance towards the door.

You hear the banging on the door but before you could react, you feel a stinging pain, piercing the skin of the neck. Turning your head abruptly, you meet a smirking face but can't figure out the person, eyes blurring and feeling dizzy. Still, you know you are stronger than this. Elbowing the person and kicking him in the stomach, you fought for yourselves. The man beside you tries to grab you when you hit his head and pushes him against the wall, "your time is over, Mister."

You blink hardly because the dizziness is becoming stronger and your whole system is getting weak with every passing second. Even when you raise your hand, you can't hit the man in front, two people grab your arms and pull you back, dragging you away and suddenly, your back hits the soft material. You are pinned on top of the bed, fighting the pain in the neck. You try to make your vision clear when you notice Mr. Kim hovering on top of you, smirking. Tearing the net material of your dress, you then realize what is going to happen. Working your legs to kick him but a fourth person holds your ankle, preventing you from fighting anymore. You shout and wiggle under their grips.

"huh! Picking a fight with us? All alone. Such a foul move." He laughs from top of you, his face near yours, "a little girl going against us. What a shame! You have the same fate as them."

Tears falling from your eyes but before he could come any closer, you hear a faint thud sound. Vision becoming dark and your whole body giving up. The weight over your body pulls off, feeling relieved but even if you want to watch the scene and understand the situation, you can't.

"y/n!" you hear your name being called. Touch on your face, your hands are not held tightly but someone caressing it softly. There's a lot of voices around you but you can't make it out properly. You are drifting off to unconsciousness. A palm over your cheek, your eyes meeting a hazy outline of a face. "Can you hear me?" someone holding you close to their body and caressing your back, your head resting against the chest.

"Ruby..." you whisper.

Someone beside you said, "yes yes. You are safe. You did it." that's the last thing you heard before your senses gave up to darkness.

.

.

.

"Wooyoung...you should go back." Taeyong's voice bloomed inside the silent room. In a dimly lit, spacious apartment, you are slowly breathing and lying unconscious on a plush, oversized couch. The air is filled with a calming scent, like lavender, and the low hum of gentle conversation.

The young boy tears his eyes away from your figure towards the leader of the gang, who is standing beside the chair, leaning against it and often glancing at you.

"but she?"

Jeno, who is sitting near your head, checks your temperature, placing his fingers on your forehead, "we promised her to make sure of her safety."

"and why are you helping her?" Wooyoung stares at them after asking the question. He notices how the males exchange looks among them when the leader again speaks up.

Sighing, he brushes back his hairs, "we care for her."

"why?"

"because she is just like us. Walking the same path." This time it's Mark who said, placing the tray with medicine and water on the table, beside the couch. He glances at your figure.

Wooyoung nods slowly, standing up and caressing your head, the others eyes following his affection towards you. He really cares for you and they know how close you both are --- they know a lot about you. Well, some of them. But others are always eager to know about the infamous undercover agent. And, seeing you close up at the club for the first time is like a miracle...a fantasy comes true to them.

"take care of her. I hope I can trust you all." Wooyoung eyes them, Mark steps forward but the younger one gestures at him with a raised hand, "don't worry. I'm not going to report you all. Well, even if I do then also, you all are going to escape the government smoothly so there's no point."

He bid them goodbye and you are under the roof with six unknown familiar males whose eyes are staring at your sleeping figure.

"we should have killed him." Haechan glares at Taeyong when the latter nods and just blankly observes the younger's anger. "handing him over to them is a useless move."

"it will give her the credit that she made the mission possible to solve. Remember it." Jaehyun reminds him of the actual motive for leaving those shitheads alive, even when he himself wanted to kill them for touching you, for even looking at you inappropriately.

"This sedative is a stronger one. Even if she regains consciousness, it's difficult for her to react normally." Mark said and shakes his head, thinking of possibilities after you wake up.

Jaemin slumps down on the chair, "she should wake up by now, the antidote must work by this time."

As the night slowly slips into the early hours of morning, you find yourself stirring from a deep, disorienting sleep. The last thing you remember is the flashing lights of the club and the music pounding in your ears. Then, facing some men and fighting with them and the blur images of them pinning you down. Now, everything is quiet, almost eerily so, except for the soft murmur of voices and the occasional clinking of glassware.

Your eyelids feel heavy as you try to open them, and a dull ache throbs in your head. Blinking a few times, your vision starts to clear, and you notice you're lying on an enormous, incredibly soft bed in what seems to be a spacious and tastefully decorated-bedroom. The lighting is low, casting a warm, golden glow across the room, which feels strangely comforting.

Your head feels heavy, and your vision is slightly blurred, but you can make out the silhouettes of six figures moving around you, each one focused on making sure you're okay.

The closest to you is a man with dark hair and a calm, composed expression. He's seated beside you on the bed, gently pressing a cool, damp cloth to your forehead. His touch is careful, almost tender, and his eyes meet yours as he notices you're waking up.

The others also come closer.

"Hey," he says softly, a gentle smile forming on his lips. "You're awake. How are you feeling?" he puts away the cloth and holds you to help to get up. your saviour.

His voice is low and soothing, and it takes you a moment to process the question. Your mouth feels dry, and you struggle to find the words, but you manage to nod slightly. The boy's smile deepens, and he continues to stroke your hair and massage the scalp, clearly relieved that you're conscious.

"you..."

He leans forward, breathing near your neck, he whispers into your ear, "it's Jaehyun. Call me that."

You blink at him, "where am I?"

On the floor next to the bed, another boy, with softer features and an almost angelic appearance, is sitting. That attractive guy. He holds your hand. His grip is light, yet reassuring, like he's trying to convey that everything is okay without overwhelming you. He looks up at you with concern, his eyes searching your face for any signs of distress.

"You're safe now," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "We're here for you."

You keep staring at him and he gets your curious question.

"Taeyong, the leader of the gang."

Across the room, a boy with sharp features and a serious expression is standing by a window, speaking quietly into his phone. His tone is firm but filled with care, and as you listen, you realize he's talking to Wooyoung, who must be worried sick.

"She's with us now, and we're taking good care of her," the  boy says, glancing in your direction to make sure you're okay. "You don't need to worry. Go home and rest. We'll keep her safe."

After a brief pause, during which he listens to the other end of the call, he nods, his expression softening slightly. "I promise, we've got everything under control. We'll call you if anything changes, but for now, just trust us."

He ends the call with a quiet sigh, slipping the phone into his pocket as he walks back over to where you're lying. He kneels down beside you, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of concern and determination. "Wooyoung was here. He went back to the team base."

"the men..."

Jeno smiles, "they are caught. You did well, little agent."

"you all didn't respond to me."

"sorry...but it was all your lover boy's fault. His teammates prevented us from contacting you further."

"Hyuck, shut up." the man sits near your feet, "I am Mark. Sorry about him. actually, we heard your call but your teammates were not trusting us and accusing us of everything. I'm sorry we used you to confront them but thanks a lot, finally we are able to catch them."

Hyuck presses his lips into a thin line, "sorry. We were late even when we promised you."

"No. it's okay." You mutter softly. "I thought you all left me in my misery."

"never, y/n. we won't do this ever." The pretty face smiles at you, "this pretty face has a name and that's Jaemin." you smile at him.

It's too much. And, moreover you are with a mafia gang and you don't know how and why you are here. Even Wooyoung left you here with them. He trusts them like you trusted them and stepped into the danger.

Meanwhile, Taeyong and Jaemin are busy in the open kitchen area. One of them is boiling water, his movements quick and efficient as he prepares a pot of herbal tea. The other is rummaging through the cabinets, looking for something light and easy for you to eat once you're feeling up to it. They exchange a few words in hushed tones, their focus entirely on making sure you're comfortable.

"take this medicine, it should help you relax", Mark says as he pours the water into a glass. "And we should get some crackers ready for later." You take it and gulp it down. "before you ask more, take it slow."

Hyuck nods in agreement, "well you can me Haechan even Hyuck is also fine with me.", pulling out a small plate and arranging a few simple snacks on it. Their actions are precise, almost instinctual, as if taking care of someone in need comes naturally to them. Jeno comes near with a pair of trousers and t-shirt, "get change into this. You must be uncomfortable with that."

By the door, the last two boys are engaged in a quiet conversation, their voices low but their expressions serious. They're discussing how to ensure the apartment is secure, checking the locks and making sure no one will disturb the peace they've created in this safe haven.

After changing in the washroom, you get to know about them more. This apartment is not their permanent residence. This is one of their spare places and this is the place they run to for your emergency and taking you to their mansion would overwhelm you so keeping you somewhere comfortable and cozy is better.

"We should keep an eye on things, just in case," Taeyong says, glancing back at you with a protective gaze. "We don't want anyone showing up uninvited."

Jaehyun nods in agreement, his expression determined. "Agreed. We'll take turns keeping watch. She needs to rest without any more interruptions."

As you start to feel more alert, Jeno notices the change in your breathing and the slight movement of your fingers. He leans in a bit closer, his voice gentle as he asks, "Do you need anything? Water? Tea?"

Jaemin holding your hand gives it a light squeeze, his eyes never leaving your face. "It's okay if you don't feel like talking yet," he says softly. "Just know we're here, and we won't leave your side."

Their kindness is overwhelming, and despite the lingering fear and confusion, a sense of safety begins to wash over you. You're surrounded by warmth, not just from the blankets draped over you or the soft lighting in the room, but from the genuine care these six men are showing you.

As the moments pass, you start to relax, the tension in your muscles easing as you let yourself be cared for. The night may have taken a terrifying turn, but now, in this room filled with quiet voices and gentle touches, you know that you're in good hands. These men, with their unwavering concern and protective presence, have made sure of that.

It's been a week, the incident at the club happened. Well, atleast the case is solved. Yeah, you should have been more careful because there were four of them and yet you chose to fight with them all alone. Such overconfidence!

You close your laptop, lying on your stomach on the couch and decide to search for a particular number.

"Hello!"

"Y/n, how are you? Have you eaten? Decided the place?" As usual he is bombarding you with questions. You chuckle into the call before humming.

"Yeah, I had my lunch a while ago and I'm completely fine. Sometimes I do feel weak but it's okay I'm taking the medicines."

"So? Going where?"

You sigh, "I don't know."

There's a moment of silence before his voice reaches your ear again, "have you spoken to them?"

Actually, you didn't. After coming back to your apartment, you have just texted a simple message — I'm okay. That's it and nothing more. But you notice your phone has their contact numbers saved in it and there's few messages but you never read them.

"No."

"They care for you a lot, y/n. I don't know why but......I have seen the anger and frustration in their eyes when you were locked in the room and they were impatient to get in there." He pauses to take a breath, "I think you should talk with them."

Care for you. Did you hear correctly? There must be a reason behind this. Everyone does something for a reason.

"Do you think I should trust them?" You ask it quickly, as if you really want to know the answer to this. You do.

"Yes." He says quietly and adds, "once we were all in the same department. I know them, never worked together but heard the praises back then so I know there must be a reason they chose this illegal path."

"They don't trust the government and its way of working. Their hatred is stronger than you can imagine." You remember the distaste Jaemin and Jeno had when telling you the reason behind them helping you, even Haechan was scoffing at every mention of their past association with the government.

"Can be. Anyways, you should trust them and I'm here if you need anything. Also, Joong and Hwa said you are free now because we don't have any mission where we require you but if you are okay with the front-field missions-"

"No. I'm not going to be there. You know I don't want to mess up." You glare at the leather in front.

He sighs, "okay. You didn't do any harm. It was all of us who were at fault, but it's you who got the blame."

"Don't remind me."

"Sorry. Anyways, enjoy the free days before the department dumping us does another shit job."

You mutter a low, "whatever."

.

.

.

"Well, we meet again."

Looking up at the voice, you see the same smiling face from that night, "Jaemin."

Inviting himself to sit beside you on the bench, he stares at you, "waiting for someone? Lover?"

You roll your eyes, "can't I be here for myself? It's comfortable here."

"Of course. This place is more comfortable because you are here." And again. "You should have called me, I could have entertained you as a friend."

Staring at your book in your hold, you reply, "Wooyoung is my only friend."

"I thought he was your boyfriend."

You scoff at the thought, " he would better date San rather than me. His best friend Yeosang literally claims me as the worst girlfriend ever."

"He is mentally unstable. Who would call you the worst-"

"Here, take the ice-cream before it melts down."  You follow the ice-cream, the hand and that belongs to Haechan. When your eyes meet, he gestures with his chin to take it. Uncontrollably, your hand raises up, grabbing the cone and gently saying thanks. "Oh no need to be so polite and all. I like your strong aura."

Honestly, he was impressed with your confidence back in the club.

You love ice-cream and accepting the little token of......love...no wait – care, is fine.

He sits on your other side, taking the book from you and reading a few lines, ignoring your protest against snatching your book without permission.

"You read these kinds of books in broad afternoon?" His smirking face looks at you when you glare at him and try to take away the book but he holds it far, gesturing you towards the ice-cream, "eat that. I'm not taking your book with me."

Jaemin is laughing lightly on your other side, when you feel a cold liquid drop on the skin of the palm, you lick the cream, eyes wide and a small smile adorning your lips.

It's tasty. The best one. You wanted to say it but you didn't want to show them your -- this side. They have already seen your weak side because of the sedative.

"You don't have to care what I read or not." Licking your lips, you continue, "it's my personal choice."

Jaemin tugs your hair behind your hairs and pulls them all together in the back, holding them in a ponytail before taking your crunchie from your side and tying it properly, "your hairs will get sticky if cream gets on them. Also, if you want to share your stories with someone. Consider us always available."

He is so nice.

"Why would I?"

"Sharing is a thing, darling." Haechan says it softly near your ear, his breathing raising goosebumps on your neck. The affectionate and the endearment is evidently having an effect on you.

"I don't like sharing things with strangers."

"Well, getting to know us is a first step, bunny. Also, you accepted an ice-cream from a stranger." Jaemin says and chuckles, "oh don't get me wrong. You can have it. I'm just teasing you. But we can be friends, you know."

Friends with them...

"I'll think about it."

"6 or 7?" Haechan asks you suddenly. You furrow your brows in confusion and stare at him. He rolls his eyes and repeats himself, "choose a perfect timing. Evening."

"7...."

"Get ready and one of us will pick you up at exactly 7, tomorrow."

"Why?"

"It's my birthday." Jaemin cheers. Haechan rolling his eyes on your other side, closing the book and placing it beside you. "Dress pretty."

"how are you sure I'm going?"

"Well, you haven't deny yet." Haechan sassily says and stands up. Your eyes following them, tongue and mouth busy tasting the delicious cream. "Anyways, hope to see you tomorrow."

Jaemin also smiled and stood up beside him. You stare up at them when they wait for your reply. But you don't want to utter a word. You don't know what to say...you are in confusion. A part of you is telling you to stay away from them and the other part is trusting them blindly and following their every move. You just nod slightly but clearly they are eager to hear something from you. Jaemin gives you a tight smile and Haechan bites his lower lip, head tilted to the side.

"bye", he scans your figure, smirking at you, "you look pretty in pastel colors."

Jaemin hits his head and chuckles, turning his gaze back to you, "even though, it's my birthday but you should be the prettiest."

You just blink in return.

As soon as they turn around, you throw away the tissue after wiping your hands and mouth after finishing the ice-cream.

"wait!"

Their steps halt, turning around, there you stood close to them, extending your hand, "give me a phone." Jaemin blinks in confusion but Haechan is quick to give in to your demand.

They watch you type something in the device and hand back him the phone, "I'm trusting you with my location. Don't be late. I have little patience sometimes." Without speaking anything more, you turn around, collecting your things from the bench and putting them inside your side bag and step away, muttering a light, "bye." Walking farther from them. Their eyes follow your form, distancing from them.

"why didn't you say Wooyoung already told you her address?" Jaemin asks the boy beside him, the other one chuckles, "well, you could have too. But it's better she showed a sign of trusting us."

"well, let's go."

.

.

.

Contemplating your decision – whether to go or not even when you are standing in front of the mirror in a pastel pink colour knee length dress. Your phone lit up when a message pops, announcing the arrival of him.

Taeyong came to pick you up. the leader of the uprising mafia gang is picking up a government undercover spy for a birthday party. Such an ironic moment! Whatever. Picking up your vanity bag, your heels clicking on the marbles when you reach the front door of your apartment. There he stood in all black leather, leaning against his car. He looks exquisite.

Approaching him, he raises his head, smiling at you, "what a beautiful sight to look at, my lady!" opening the door for you to enter, you quickly get in. skipping towards the other side of the car, he gets into the driver seat and brushes his hair in the rear-view mirror, "how do you manage to look so cute being a spy?"

"stop with your flirting." You roll your eyes and stare at his side-profile. His pointy nose, big eyes, sharp jawline and thick brows with the black hairs falling over his forehead. A perfect leader aura. Honestly, you didn't have any idea that this gang would be so handsome and attractive. Heck, you didn't even know you would be riding a car with the leader to a birthday party. Why did you agree?

"I can't stop myself from falling for you, pretty lady or should I say pretty distraction?" all of them have one thing in common. The smooth talking with sultry in their tones.

You need a change in your life.

"Mr. leader, focus on the road ahead. Need to appear in one piece at the party." You smirk at him and he laughs, speeding the car.

"whatever you say, pretty."

Trusting them isn't going to be bad.

.

.

.

Meanwhile five men with their drinks in hold, spread across the big living room of the mansion. Conversing on the same topic. You.

"You sure, she is coming?" Mark places the glass on the glass counter and folds his hand. Jaemin nods enthusiastically, "I am."

Jeno scoffs, "You seem too excited for her being here rather than celebrating your birthday."

"well of course, she is the main reason. This shitty birthday comes every year. And, you all bring those strawberry cakes. I swear if you do the same this time." He glares at Haechan, who raises his hands in defense.

"hey, don't look at me like that. I didn't do it alone even though the plan is mine." He smirks and raises a brow at him, completely enjoying riling up the birthday boy like this.

"when will they arrive?" Jeno asks the man beside him, Jaehyun sips his drink before replying, "Taeyong is at the signal. Will be here within ten minutes."

"why so eager to see her?" Haechan asks cockily.

Mark rolls his eyes at the boy, "as if you are not. Shut up for a moment, seriously."

It took thirty minutes to arrive at their mansion, not going to lie, you have been to such places for only missions but never as a casual individual. Well, your instincts work as your profession, you observe the surroundings, how a butler approaches the car when he parks sideways. You scan the new male and every lit-up place where the golden rays of light illuminate the mansion beautifully.

"welcome to the venue, pretty."

He gestures for you to step forward when the butler opens the door for both of you.

"can you call me by my name? it's y/n." you hiss at him.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, "well, now I got your name. you haven't introduced yourself to me then how can I even know your name."

Stepping into the hallway leading to the living room, you glance at him, "you all already know me. so, stop pretending."

A sudden hug makes you look forward to when you were busy looking at the man walking beside you.

"Finally, you are here." It's Jaemin, who is smiling widely at your form in his white hoodie. A little smile appears on your face for the affection. You have never felt so loved by anyone. Well, your teammates are also nice with you but they are more in professional terms with you, except Wooyoung. You take out a small box from your bag and extend your hand towards him, "Happy Birthday, Jaemin."

"woah, there was no need for this. You are the best gift to me here today." His flirty ass comment got some scoffs and roll of eyes from others except the one who comes closer to both of you.

"what's in the box?" Haechan tries to take it from Jaemin who glares back, "that's for me."

"always a nosy one." Your sudden comment got other's attention and the silence is screaming inside your mind and at you. Why did you say it out loud? What are they thinking about you? Oh gosh. "I'm sorry."

They burst into loud laughter when Haechan glares at them but quickly snickers looking at your surprised expression. Jaemin brings you to the center of the room, holding your hand and guiding you to the table. the others also gather closer to you. The last time you have seen all of them together was when you bid goodbye the next day after that night.

It's been over a month that you are seeing them again. Never thought to be in front of them again but here you are, exchanging small greets and smiles and hearing their concerning voices for you.

After cutting the cake, well you get to know this time it's chocolate cake because you love this flavor otherwise, they would have bought a strawberry one, just to tease him. he didn't give any bites to others, asking them to take it on their own. You look around the place and see them all in either all leathers or all denims. They look more handsome than the last day and not to deny, your eyes can't leave their attractive forms. You loved to click photos with them even when you were surprised they have social media accounts being mafia members.

"say ah!" Jaemin holds a piece of cake in front of your face, urging you to open your mouth. You shake your head and try to take it from him when he smiles, "it's my day so let me do this. It's my wish to feed you this cake. Please."

Hesitating to give in to his request, you glance at others and they are already looking towards you, "Jaemin..."

"please."

You take the bite quickly, without delay and make it more embarrassing. He steps back towards the couch and you stand near the table, awkwardly thinking what you are actually doing here. With some strangers you met at the club and then helped each other to solve the trafficking situation and then saved you from the incident and now inviting you to the birthday party.

"can I also give you a bite of this cake?" you look towards the man standing beside you. Mark smiles at you dearly, sweetly like the birthday boy. You furrow your brows in confusion when he chuckles and replies to your curiosity, "last week. It was my birthday but for important work, we couldn't celebrate it. so, as you, our special guest is here. Let me celebrate mine too."

His young facial features with prominent cheekbones and round eyes with the soft tone with such a loving tone is luring you with a smile to appear on your face. Unknowingly, you nod and part your lips, having the small bite of the piece of cake he is holding.

"belated happy birthday, Mark."

He laughs, "Thank you."

"thanks for this special gift, y/n." Jaemin's voice makes you both look towards him. he is holding the watch you bought in the morning. After deciding on a whole lot of things, you end up opting for a wrist watch. Hoping, that would be the most convenient gift.

You smile, "I couldn't come up with a better thing. That's the only option I could think of."

"hey! It's my favorite watch from now on." He reassures your anxious self.

You look towards Mark, "I'll buy you something later."

He blinks at you, making an eye-contact when he suddenly bends forward, his lips near your neck, chuckling into the ear, "well, be my friend. That's the best gift for me."

Your breath hitches but you cough a little, clearing your throat and looking around.

.

.

.

"so how come you all know my name?" glancing at Taeyong when you notice his smirk and looking away towards Jeno beside you, "like you even followed me there at the club. So, any mission? To get me."

"oh, it's not like that." Jeno chuckles, "we were sure that the government must have sent an undercover spy but didn't expect it to be you. We were lucky for the second time to encounter you on a mission."

"you all seem too excited to have me there." You sip your drink, eyeing him and then the man beside him, Jaehyun, "thanks for standing up for me that night."

"no worries. Stay away from those shitheads." Jaehyun shows his dimple smile in the end.

You shake your head and sigh, "it's just a part of my job. I have to work normal in my every undercover profession. Well, about knowing me..." you trail off in the end when Jeno speaks up this time.

"your last mission failed because of us. Right?" he stares at you.

You gulp, nodding slightly, remembering the shouts and blame you received after returning from the place to the office. Hongjoong was totally displeased with you and Seonghwa's betrayed eyes are still burning on your skin.

"if we didn't divert your plan then you wouldn't be sitting here with us today." Mark leans back into the couch.

You smirk, "why? You all would've got caught?"

"no. you could've died."

Your smirk falters. A shocked and lost expression replaces your bright features. Why? The possibility of your death and they helped you to escape the danger is a new aspect of the mission you discovered.

Jaehyun notices the horror on your face, "hey..." he kneels down in front of you, holding your hands and tapping them softly with a faint smile on his lips, "don't worry. You are a smart agent. And we will always protect you from the dangers. We got your back."

You stare at his face, their gestures are so soft, comfortable and welcoming. And, the more you are interacting with them, the more you are leaning towards them. They give you a feeling of...care in the form of protection.

"why are you helping me?"

"y/n..." Jaemin kneels beside Jaehyun, smiling at you, "because we want to. You are a special person to us."

"huh?"

"remember? the seniors under whom you worked for a project and you even made their brothers your friends. it was such a fun night."

Wait. It's them? And, it was such a short interaction. You were stuck late at the library, finishing up a group project when one of your teammates feel sick and the other one skipped and went on a trip. And to get the point, you were alone doing the work. When, four batchmates approaches you for help. Now you realize --- it was Mark, Jeno, Jaemin and Haechan. Their elder brothers --- Taeyong and Jaehyun were your seniors and that night, it was six of them working hard with you to finish a one month project in one night. After that, you met them at the playground the next week to thank them. That's it. no more interaction, just some passing by them and attending same classes. But they still remember you.

"you all remember me?", licking your lips, you continue, "I thought you didn't care. I mean, it's okay. We never interacted much to still remember me after years."

Taeyong nods his head slowly, "well, we still remember the little crush you had back then on Jeno. We admire your intelligence." Snickering, he flicks your nose, "it was so cute though."

"and who knew that the meritorious, perfect, polite and soft natured girl would be an undercover agent in future. Well, you were a computer science student and wanted to be a developer then how come you joined the Intelligence Team of the government? You didn't attend any classes with us regarding that." Haechan asks in a curious way.

You nod, heaving a sigh, allowing your mind to skip over all the memories, "it's a long story. Just in short, the situation made me change the decision. I was in need of money and the orphanage where I grew up is funded by Yunho's parents so he offered me this position for being an intelligent student so that's how I joined as a hacker in the team but later I excel the skill of being an agent."

"wow. You are smarter than I can imagine." Mark compliments.

"let's have dinner. It's getting late. She needs to go back home." Jaehyun states and glance at you, "you look pretty in this dress."

Jeno leans towards your side, whispering with his husky voice, "well this kind of dress really suits you. Wear it more often." Chuckling, he continues, "you look a lot more my type even though you already are."

You meet his eyes when he backs away, smirking at your expression. Even though, you are holding a strong façade, your heart is fluttering and skipping beats, the old university student self of yours dancing at the thought of your crush calling you his type --- fucking his type.

"thanks."

At the dining table, you sit between Jeno and Mark, others taking their chairs while conversing among them, "don't you feel lonely staying all alone at that apartment?" Mark asks you, looking at you and brushing your stray hairs away from the face.

"sometimes." It hurts more than anyone can think.

Jeno pats your head, "then come to us. We can hang around and do whatever you want."

"thank you." You mutter under your breath.

"why?" Jeno asks, furrowing his brows but a small smile dancing on his lips, "we did nothing."

"for treating me so nicely. I forgot you all, sorry for that but...", smiling at them, genuinely feeling that you are living a different life with them, "let's know ourselves again." Stupid, how did you forget Jeno? Your crush. That's why the name felt a little familiar and his face was reminding you of someone. But the urgent situation of your days after the university ended left you in such a miserable condition that you had to delete your extra unnecessary stuff from your mind.

The servants serve the food on all of your plates, you don't get to have such a grand and delicious dinner everyday and by their look, this is common for them unlike you. Taking a fry in your hand and biting into it, you realize that it's far more delicious than your daily take-outs at night. You only cook during daytime otherwise you spend your days strolling around the city at night.

"how is the chicken fry?" Jaemin asks you and you quickly look up at him, clearly you were zoning out earlier.

"it's good. Really. Thank you for inviting me and for the food." You send a warm and bright smile towards them.

"Well, you were not coming initially." Haechan comments and before you could reply to him, he laughs it off, "just kidding."

Taeyong clears his throat, "you are free these days."

You stare at him, letting him continue, "have you thought about planning your free days?"

"maybe rotting in my apartment or disappearing to a different country." You shrug in the end.

"do you want to come with us to our penthouse in the mountains?"

Do you?

Jaemin adds into the conversation, "we can stay there until you are getting your next order from your department."

Wow.

It won't be a harm, right?

"it's okay, we are just asking." Jeno assures you when he notices your lost expression. Mark pats your back, urging you to eat before it gets cold but they didn't expect your sudden question.

"when are we leaving?"

You are trusting them a lot, y/n.

For once, you want to experience a life like a normal girl like you were till your university days. Where you had a single identity and your present.

Staying with them is more than fun, you could never imagine that your holidays after the mission would be this entertaining. They are more open and accepting towards you. Their lingering gazes, soft touches, oh you have never missed the innuendo gestures from some of them, especially Jaemin, Jaehyun and Haechan.

You even heard stories from Taeyong how it was like being official government members and now becoming a part of the dark side of the world. The interesting part is that, their public identity is them being the renowned CEOs of the company 'Orange Seoul'. You wondered why they never got confronted by anyone even when they are publicly running a big ass company. The famous government officials, Johnny and Yuta, along with Ten, the intern, are helping them. Kun, the head official of the investigation teams is on their side. Half of the government side is corrupted. But, even if they run these illegal shits, they are helping the government with protecting the innocent people.

Like they are protecting their innocent Ruby --- you from this corrupted world.

Three months, you are staying with them and there was once your teammates needed you but Wooyoung let you skip it and managed it on his own, telling other members that you are sick. He wants you to enjoy your common day life.

There's something to confess --- the little crush on Jeno is igniting again but they don't know one more fact about you that you were attracted to all of them. But this thought itself is weird so it's better to keep it a secret from them.

"hey, what are you doing alone sitting here?" Jaehyun asks and sits beside you. He is in his shorts, he wants to go swimming into the pool and here you are sitting on the edge, dipping your legs into the water and humming a song. You smile at him and your eyes trail over his exposed muscles, abs and the excess visible flesh.

"just relaxing and thinking about my life."

He places his palm over yours by the side, you didn't pull away, "are you not happy?"

"no. it's just I'm loving this life more than my actual one." You sigh.

He stares at your face, the same pretty girl he watched every day at the university days and even if you think he didn't notice your longing gazes at him, he did. He noticed your every secret glance and you watching his basketball matches, hiding behind the pillars in the corner of the indoor stadium. You were too adorable.

"then stay with us. Forever."

You quickly look at him, eyes widening but chuckles because you think he is joking, "you know it's not possible."

"it's only you who can make it possible."

"how?"

He jumps into the pool, water splashes over your whole form and you shout, "hey! You drenched me."

His laugh echoes in the place, "that was the whole point."

"Jaehyun, I swear. You just wait when you come out of the waters." You glare at him but his laugh intensifies, swimming towards you and then stands, brushing back his drenched hair, his body high-lighting under the golden lights of the pool, making it look warm. "don't come closer. I'm going to my room to change-"

He pulls you by your ankle into the water and holds you against his body, "where are you running, sweetheart?" the frown on your face disappears as his endearment causes a shiver run down your spine, his teeth tugging at his lips, your eyes scanning the surroundings where he is focused on you, you can feel his burning gaze and this causes your heart to pound harder against your chest.

Your front flash against his abs, his arms around your waist and smirking down at you in his hold when you look at him, "what are you doing?"

"why didn't you talk to me during university days?" he asks you softly, his eyes solid on your face and his fingers caressing the skin revealing in your stomach because of the crop top. "you know how I hated Heesung for being all friendly with you."

"you were jealous?" you ask him softly, staring back at his handsome face.

The old possessiveness washes over him like a tidal wave, this time you are finally in his hold, so close, he hated when your classmate's eyes were all over you when you both used to converse.

"I am still." He scoffs, "I am better than him."

"he was my friend." You smirk at him. even when your heart is pounding, you are not going to give in to him so easily.

"and who am I?" he asks quickly. You open your mouth to speak, but he appears to be interested in admiring you, rolling your damp hair between his fingers, pulling you closer when he feels you parting away. "I am waiting for your answer." Jaehyun is definitely enjoying this and his sultry gaze remains on your face, your nervous eyes meeting his ravenous gaze.

Your arms drape over his shoulders, with your head titling attractively to the side, "a senior." His smirk widens and his hold tightens around you, pulling you closer to his chest, his free hand gripping your chin to make you look at him.

"oh...that's it? I'm going to make myself more than a senior to you." He dips his head down to attach his lips to your cheek, he pulls apart quickly, hoping for your discomfort but here you are closing your eyes and allowing him to control you. Allowing a mafia member to do anything to the government official. His lips attach to your jaw, trailing down to your throat, your fingers grip his biceps tightly. "y/n...if you don't want this. Tell me to stop."

"No." your breath heaving, parting your eyelids, you match his eyes, "I want this. I need it." your breath stops for a moment for how handsome and attractive he is looking with his glossy lips and water dripping from his hairs.

You turn your head, giving him better access to administer his kisses and licks your neck with now his arms locked on your waist and other holding the back of your neck. He bit your throat when you gasp, "Jae..."

"shhh...we don't want others to hear us. They might come here anytime." Pressing a soft kiss on your lips, a cold chuckle leaves his lips, against your skin, "but that's the main part of the fun." His arm holds your bare legs and hooks them around his waist. Goosebumps arising on your skin with every passing moment, because of the cold water and the gush of wind. But his warm body is distracting you from the surrounding.

He slams his lips on yours, pulling your lower lip with his teeth and deepening his kiss. He wished to kiss this every time when you went to see his match, every time he heard your name in any conversation --- let it be during university, or missions. You reciprocate his kiss with equal fervor.

His hands protectively placed on your back and the other on your ass cheek, he moves towards the ledge with still kissing you feverishly till he reaches the tiled ledge. He settles on it and pulls you on his lap, when you both break the kiss.

"what am I now?" placing a kiss on your lips, he smirks, "I don't think a senior kisses his junior this way."

"well, they do. I have seen Jungwoo kissing one of my classmates once and then the next day he pretended as if it's nothing." You are testing the water and you know it's becoming hot and you are lowkey loving it.

"did you ever have intimacy with anyone?" he asks you all of a sudden. "I want a direct answer. yes or no."

You shake your head, "No."

"would you allow me to do it?" you avert your eyes away, feeling shy all of a sudden.

"I don't know..."

He chuckles in your ears, biting the lobe, "wrong answer, sweetheart."

"then fucking do something."

He laughs lightly, "someone is getting impatient here." He dips his head to your shoulder, smelling into your perfume and humming against your skin, getting lost in your touch when you grab his hair and other roaming around his bare back. "can I take off your top?"

You nod quickly, complying with his every request, agreeing with every word rolling out his tongue. Pulling up your top, he throws it away, his mouth automatically latches with your upper portion of your chest, licking your visible part of the breast pumped out of the bra.

"do you know how to cock-warm?" you shake your head again when he plants a kiss on your temple, "you have to trust me."

"I trust you and that's why I'm here staying with you for three months here in the mountains." You smile softly and rest your head on his shoulder, kissing his neck.

His fingers moving under your drenched skirt, lingering on your inner thigh and you squirm in his hold. His cold fingers coming in contact with your warm core when you gasp in the crook of his neck, "Jaehyun..."

A shiver runs down your spine when he pushes your panty aside and inserts a finger, your folds engulfing his finger and squeezing it tightly, "oh god. How can you make me fit?" his skill-full finger starts moving, "need to prep you so good." Adding one more when you cry out but he hushes you with a kiss and soothing you to relax. adding one more finger, he moves it in a same pace and scissoring often and hitting your g-spot.

A knot builds up in your lower belly and his whispers igniting it, "I'm gonna cum." you are ashamed of how quickly your body is reacting.

"yes. Fucking give it to me, sweetheart. Let it go."

And, you did. Again, complying to his request. You are panting against his chest but he doesn't let you rest, not when he finally gets you to himself after years of waiting and he will prove everything to you. He was controlling himself for last three months and now he is not leaving his only chance with you. He manhandles you to sit straight, pulling his shorts down a bit to reveal his length and grabs it, giving it squeeze and pumping before pulling you and lining the tip to your entrance. Inserting it, you gasp, your glistening eyes meet his lust filled eyes. He bites his lips at your expression.

Kissing your lips, and the top of your head, he chuckles, "are you fine?" He grunts in your ear when your walls squeeze around him and you bit his shoulder. Your nails are digging into his back. He knows, it will leave marks and he will definitely love it more than anything.

"It's hurting, Jaehyun..." you moan into his ear. Tears falling from your eyes and he wipes it off.

"Relax. It'll get better." Kissing your cheek, he smiles softly, "talk to me. Let's talk about something."

"What..." moaning out his name, you continue, trying to look into his eyes, "do you want to hear?"

"About you." He smiles, looking down at you. You are looking so adorable, so cute and innocent. An undercover agent who won't hesitate to kill someone if needed to complete her mission is looking so innocent in his hold. "I want to know so much about you."

This is very sweet and newfound feelings for you because no one ever wanted to know about you and here he is asking you about yourself...moreover, he wanted to know about you. Other boys or men either want to have one night stand or want time to use you for their benefits.

"I am not a villain." You whisper, your breaths tickling in the crook of his neck, his fingers moving along your hairlines, often kissing on the crown of your head and rubbing your back when you are adjusting your head on his shoulder. "Everyone thinks of me as heartless and stubborn but...I am just doing this because this is my life."

"You are my sweetheart. Our little agent, y/n." He laughs lightly in the end. "you are not how you think. you are important to me and to us."

You chuckle, "you know I can slit your throat if..."

"If you were not interested in us." The sudden voice makes you flinch. Jaehyun cranes his head to look at the direction of the intruder when he notices the familiar silhouette of a man behind his back, near the glass door connecting the back room with the pool. Following his gaze, Jaehyun looks down and sees you hiding your face in embarrassment.

"Y/n..."

The click of the boots make you clench around him and his smirk appears on the face.

"You like when someone is watching us?" Even though you are shaking your head yet your walls clenching around him, your slick slipping down his shaft.

The man sits beside Jaehyun, lighting up a cigarette and holding it between his fingers. "Don't you both feel cold? There's so many rooms available."

"Are you jealous?" You can make out Jaehyun's cocky voice. He loves to rile him up.

The latter laughs and places his hand on your thigh, moving up and down, "y/n, look at me. Come on. Don't be all shy with me."

You shake your head. One hand lazily droops around Jaehyun's shoulder and other trying to move the hand on your thigh. The man catches your hand and pulls you towards facing him, making your body jolt a bit. Jaehyun adjusts your hairs to make your face visible clearly.

Your eyes remain closed but a sudden wave of chill runs down your spine when you feel lips attaching to yours, a low whisper with a heavy chuckle, "why don't you give me a show, y/n?"

Eyelids parting, meeting his lust eyes, hungrily watching at you, the warmth of his palms burning on your skin, you find your voice again to speak.

"Taeyong..."

"Yes, baby. Make him feel good." Caressing your cheek, the other side of your face pressed against Jaehyun's chest, your walls clenching tight due to two male's hands roaming around your body and their dark voices directly into your ears.

Taeyong places a kiss on your temple, before sliding down into the water and swims on his own.

"Let's give him a show, sweetheart." Jaehyun moans your name into your ear, licking the lobe, pulling it between his teeth. "You feel so good. So so good."

"Please fuck me, Jaehyun...please please..." you whimpering in his lap.

He laughs, "yes." He thrusts his hip up, earning a loud moan out of you. A whistle can be heard from a distance, meeting Jaehyun's eyes, you follow his gaze behind your back. There Taeyong stood with all his drenched body and brushed back hair and smirking at you both. Lazily, diving towards you from the distance.

The sudden deep thrust makes your eyes avert from the one into the water to the one holding you.

"Jae...hyun."

"Yes, y/n. Say my name." Kissing your cheek, he pulls your head back harshly by grabbing your hair and facing you, licking his own lips at your blissed expression. He thrusts upward, drilling into you. "Say you love it."

"Yes I love it." Your nails digging into his back. Kissing his neck and throat. Making him groan when you move your hip to match his thrust, "please move faster."

"Of course." His drills into you, earning a loud moan out of you. "Yes, just like that. Let everyone know that I'm more than a senior."

"Jae- ugh please." His hold on your hair tightens and your scalp burning with the pull, then you feel another pair of hands hugging you from behind, unclasping the hook of the bra and revealing your chest, bouncing with the effect of the thrusts and Jaehyun's mouth immediately attaches with your hard nipples.

"You look so hot like this." Taeyong's shot breath whisper with water dripping from his hair on your shoulder and his teeth biting your earlobe, fingers pinching and pulling with your left out nipple. "Are you near?"

"Yes yes...wanna cum please." Your tears rolling down your face. Jaehyun's lips leaving your chest to attach with your lips, where Taeyong's free hand sneaks to your clit, rubbing it in circles, igniting the fire in your belly.

"Hold it for us, love." Taeyong said and chuckles in your ear, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. The both male share looks, having the same hunger and lust for you. But one thing that they got to know is you are a total sub for them even if you are a daring agent —- their little agent.

Your blissed out face, bare body manhandling by them, complying to their everything, begging them for pleasure and their whole attention on you is an absolute sight to see.

"I can't please." your begging got a bite from Taeyong on the side of your throat, they both are marking your body as if they own you. But do they really? What are you to them? That's for later to know. For now, all you can concentrate is on the two hands roaming around you. The lips are attached to every single inch of skin that's visible to their eyes. They couldn't have done anything if you wouldn't have allowed them to touch. But you did. You let them see you in other ways, touch them, feel them, think about you and moreover, you allowed them to have you.

A low chuckle with a wet kiss on your bare shoulder, followed by a whisper from Taeyong, "then let it go for us."

For them. The continuous pressure and their dirty whispers let your body give up in their hands, shaking and moaning loudly, eyes rolling back and feeling as if you are floating on the water of the pool. Even when you ride out your high after cumming hard, they didn't stop, neither their gaze left your body. Jaehyun changes your position from above him to manhandling to cage you between him and the pavement at the ledge. Taeyong supports himself to the side both of you, leaning with his two elbows resting on the tiles and watching you getting fucked out of your mind by his friend. Even when you are begging him to stop, of course you didn't mean it but yet they both were having pride and liked to watch you in that condition under them.

Taeyong chuckles at himself, the girl who had missions to catch him, to gather information against him, is allowing him to watch herself getting fucked and also being a part of the intimacy.

"hold it for me, sweetheart."

Jaehyun's demanding voice makes him look at your face, he catches your glistening hooded eyes glancing at him and back at Jaehyun when the man on top of you puts his around your throat, choking you in the way and making your body arch. His lips attach to your perked up nipples, sucking and teeth pulling them. Leaving your abused breasts, his kisses trail up to your face, kissing all over the beautiful sculpture of his dream --- the girl he dreamt of. His free hand tracing your bare chest down to your belly and presses his palm on your lower belly.

"please, Jaehyun...I can't."

The pad of his thumb moves down to rub circles, starting with slow motion and suddenly increasing the speed, making you cry in the process. Taeyong's palm caress your bare legs which are shaking for your release to be near yet you are ordered to delay it because the man devouring you wants to take his time with you.

Pressing a soft kiss on your lips, Jaehyun finally allows you with a dimpled smile, "let it go."

You grab his wrist of the hand choking you with both of yours and scream his name. others might have heard you but you are relieved that he finally let you come after delaying it for long. The euphoric feeling inside your body is incomparable. You have never felt such an effect even when you used your vibrator or fingers. You definitely needed to experience a real one and you got it. your thoughts break when you feel Jaehyun sliding out from you. A whine leaves your mouth but you hear two chuckles and already knowing, they are enjoying your expressions.

"I love you, y/n." he whispers before leaving a last kiss on your lips, but not giving you enough time to process your mind for a reply. Did he mean it actually?

Chest heaving up and down and your blurred vision returning to normal. Meanwhile Jaehyun pulls you up and places your body between his legs, facing you towards the pool. You can't make out the situation but watch, he puts your legs over his highs and dips his leg into the water, making your core bare when he pulls up the skirt, letting the cold air hit the heated and abused core. The sudden splash of water on your face makes you yelp. Taeyong's laugh echoes in the place and he stands in front of you both. The water compliments his body and he looks so handsome, attractive and... fuckable when inside the waters.

"are you going to report us?" he tilts his head, brushing back his hair and locking eyes with you.

Licking your lips, you manage to raise a brow, "why?"

"for fucking you, obviously." Moving forward, he rests his palms over your thighs, sliding up and down all while locking his eyes with you, his pretty sharp eyes peeking from under the locks when he shakes his head. "are you not?"

"no."

Holding your palms softly with both hands, bringing it to his lips and you swear, it flutters your heart and inside your stomach, you can feel a tingling excitement. Two of your seniors looking at you dearly with heart eyes. "you are so beautiful, y/n." he lets you know this everytime you both bump into each other. Actually, they both are not direct and bold like Jaemin and Haechan. His words are always like a whisper and controlling himself from dwelling further into a river of his feelings.

"do you want to hear? You are handsome." You lazily smirk at him.

He chuckles, intertwining his fingers with yours, "I already know, you think that about me." he leans forward, kissing your ear, whispering seductively, "your sexy and smart mind is full of dirty thoughts. Don't deny the truth."

"you talk as if you know about me." you lean back when his face comes near to you in front, but your actions are restrained because you're caged in Jaehyun's hold. The younger one rests his chin on your shoulder and kisses it often along with your cheek.

Taeyong places a kiss on the tip of your nose, "and what if I know? Baby...don't forget that I am the leader of the gang and there's not only these five men working under my command. There's twenty-five others and all are spread across the country in different professions so if I consider or like to show interest in knowing someone then it's just a job with a snap of my finger."

"and you escaped my hands every time I was just in reach." You huff.

He laughs and shakes his head, "you didn't reach me. I let you come in my radar to catch me. I let you step in my boundary. I let you know about the things I wanted you to know." Placing a kiss on your lips, he mutters, "because I want you to be near me. to watch your smart works."

"I can't be fooled with your fake explanation." You glare but his expression doesn't falter.

"whatever you want to believe and deny, but that doesn't change the truth that I want you."

"you probably say this to every girl you have fucked in those clubs." Your words tugging at your heart, but what's the reason? What are you expecting from him? from them? Maybe nothing. Or maybe...something.

He notices your lost eyes staring back at him. leaving your hands, he cups your face, "do you want to hear the truth or the thing which you are expecting?"

"the truth."

"then..." he kisses your lips, "I told them about you."

You are surprised, "me?"

He nods and signals something to Jaehyun when the latter holds your legs pinned and Taeyong's fingers linger around your inner thigh, teasing your core, making your body twitch under the hold.

Sliding a finger inside your warm walls, feeling the tight clench making him curse under his breath before continuing, "yes, my beautiful dream. Only if I didn't interact with you back in college then I wouldn't have got attracted to you so much. You are my fucking dream."

Moaning out the words under his abuse, "I didn't ever think this."

"because I didn't let you. I didn't let you get a hint of my liking. I let you know about Jeno's name during the mission but to my disappointment, you didn't recall us. It's okay...finally you are here. With me. with us." He says and bite down your bare shoulder, attacking the same pressure on your throat where Jaehyun already left his marks.

You buck your hip upwards, the fire in your belly indicating the nearing of your climax even after coming three times earlier. You are in a daze and this resolve is difficult to get down when the pleasure inside your body is taking your mind and soul to float in cloud 9.

"there you go, baby."

The sight of you is not enough for him. He wants more. Heck, he wants to see you like this forever. You are the fucking reality --- not his dream only.

Letting you ride out your high, he pulls back his finger. Licking it all the way and after dipping his whole body into the water, he gets out. Your back pressed against the younger's body, who manages to cradle you while standing up too. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder and takes you to the back room. He follows behind Taeyong who rubs dry his body and throws away the towel. Suddenly, halting in his way near the couch and staring at you with his predatory gaze.

"put her over there." He gestures to Jaehyun to place you on the couch beside where he is standing. Without wasting any time, he slightly throws you on the leather, making your body bounce with your boobs. "won't you make me feel good as a 'thank you'?"

You thought that it's over and they are going to freshen up but here you are under the hovering body of Taeyong who is impatiently waiting for your reply.

You are again with your remarks with them, "just say you want to fuck me."

"ah, baby." Caressing your cheek lovingly, then suddenly yanking your head back with your hairs, sculp burning under the hold, "you are all talk when we are not doing anything but when one of us is fucking. You are just blank with moans and begging." Smirking down at you, he tilts his head, "but I love to see your daring self. I love your undercover agent version."

"are you not scared if I catch you after all these?"

He tsks, leaning back, putting down his shorts when Jaehyun announces his leave to freshen up, before sending a wink at you. The elder one ignores him and grabs your face while the other his shaft, his is not as big as his friend but the girth is strong. "it's you who is scared to lose us after all these."

All he got was silence. Lose them? Does it matter to you? You are allowing this to happen because you need distraction and a little bit change in your life. Also, it's better when you are having your chances with your crushes. You thought they only know about Jeno because he was your batchmate along with Jaemin and Haechan. If they cared to know about you then they might have interested. You are thinking a lot again.

Grabbing your chin harshly, his thumb pulls your lower lips to part your mouth and kisses you hungrily. It feels like he has waited enough and finally he got his reward. His tongue meshing against yours, and you moan hotly into his mouth when you feel his tip teasing your entrance.

Your moan turns into whimper when he again bites your lips and at the same time inserts himself into you, your already over prepped core welcoming him but clenching so tightly ever as if you are still a virgin.

He is not patient and smooth like Jaehyun, he is rough and messy because as soon as he feels your walls choking his length, he thrusts his hip deeper into you, making the view nasty and vigorously fucking into you. Grabbing your breasts and fondling with them, he dips his head down again to place a kiss on your forehead. The sudden soft gesture makes your eyelid part. Your confuse face staring at him.

"why did you choose this life? This is not safe. You should have been a developer."

Your back arch back when he hit the right spot but he slows down his action when he notices that you are struggling to answer him, "as I said I needed money."

"why?" he asks while rolling your perk nipples between his fingers and soon attaching his mouth with them. String of saliva connecting from his mouth to your nipples and he curse so bad because he loves that.

"an emergency."

"because your orphanage was attacked?" his question earns a nod followed by a loud moan when he bit down on a sensitive portion near your nipple. "but you went back to your hometown, to your grandparents and then somewhere I couldn't find out."

"when I went back..ugh..they were sick and while I was living with them, they died because of the sudden deterioration of their health. My town friend Yunho, he took me under his wing, hiding my identity all along and that's how I am here now." You moan in the end.

A wave of jealousy and possessiveness makes his hold tightens around you, "who is he to you?"

"someone who helped me in my misery."

His finger starts rubbing your clit when your hip bucks upward in the need of more, "anything more than that?"

"Taeyong, you are clearly jealous."

"cause I am." He thrusts harder, increasing is speed and filling the room with both of your moans, "I am not giving you up to someone else." His tip brushes against your sweet spot and you cry out.

"please ..... please Taeyong...let me cum."

"should I?"

"please..." tears of pleasure streaming down your eyes and this allowing him to edge you until you are nothing more than a senseless doll. No. you are his dream and he doesn't want to let you disappear into void.

He smiles, pressing a sensual kiss on your lips, "then cum with me, love."

Just like Jaehyun, his warm liquid painting your walls, filling you up with his loads and leaving you a panting mess after riding out both of your high. Pulling out, he cradles you on his lap on the couch, brushing back your hair, resting your head against his chest, "let's get you freshen up."

"I don't have energy..." you mumble weakly under your breath.

He strokes your hair, "I'll do all the work, you just need to be awake for a little. I promise I'll be quick." All he got is a nod and closed eyes with slow breathing from you in his hold.

"I love you so much, y/n."

He had the courage to say everything but not having the courage to confess.

.

.

.

The room is dimly lit, the aftermath of a passionate night leaving you utterly spent. You're lying in bed, still catching your breath, when you feel the comforting warmth of two boys beside you. They're gentle, their touches tender as they help you settle in, pulling the covers around you and making sure you're comfortable.

Taeyong leans in, his hand softly brushing the hair from your face. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and full of concern. You nod, too tired to say much, but the way they're both looking at you, with a mix of affection and care, tells you everything you need to know—they're not just satisfied with leaving things as they are. They want to take care of you.

"I want to say something."

Jaehyun smiles, "what, sweetheart?"

"I love you...", licking your lips, you pull the cover over your head, "I love both of you."

before drifting off to sleep, you hear both of their chuckles and sweet whispers to you.

Over the next few days, their behavior shifts in subtle but significant ways. They're always close, whether it's offering you a drink, insisting you to rest, or just being there in quiet moments, their presence reassuring. They share knowing glances, inside jokes that have developed between the three of you, and this newfound closeness doesn't go unnoticed.

As the weeks pass, this bond deepens. They're more attentive, more protective, their touches lingering a little longer, their smiles a little softer when directed at you. Whether it's cooking your favorite meals, sitting close during movie nights, or those quiet moments when they just hold you, their affection is palpable, making you feel cherished in a way that's hard to describe.

But this shift doesn't go unnoticed by the other boys in your circle. The four of them begin to pick up on the change—the way you're almost always flanked by the two who've become more than just friends. They start to notice the small, intimate gestures, the shared looks, the way you laugh a little more easily with these two.

At first, it's subtle—a lingering glance here, a small frown there. They're curious, maybe even a bit confused, trying to understand what's shifted. But as time goes on, curiosity gives way to something else—a light, simmering jealousy. It's not overt, but it's there in the way they sometimes hover a bit closer, how they seek your attention with just a bit more intensity, hoping to draw you back into their orbit.

It's not that they're angry, but rather, they miss the ease and equality that existed before this new dynamic. They miss being the ones who made you laugh, who you turned to without hesitation. And now, they're feeling just a touch left out, a little envious of the closeness that developed between you and the other two.

Despite this, they don't say anything outright. Instead, they try to win back your attention in their own ways—bringing you small gifts, inviting you on outings, or just being a little more present, hoping to remind you of the bonds you share with them too.

This gentle tug-of-war for your attention creates a new, interesting tension in your group. It's not unpleasant, but it's there—a reminder of how much you mean to each of them, and how these new dynamics have stirred emotions none of you quite anticipated.

.

.

.

The morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over your room. You're nestled deeply in the comfort of your blankets, drifting in that blissful state between sleep and wakefulness. The world is still hazy, and you're savoring these last few moments of peace when you feel a soft nudge on your shoulder.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," a familiar voice murmurs, the amusement clear in his tone.

You groggily pry your eyes open, squinting against the light, to find two boys standing at the side of your bed. They're both grinning, their expressions laced with a mixture of affection and mischief. Jaemin, with a triumphant look, is holding a tray, carefully balanced with your favorite breakfast— a perfectly crafted omelet, a side of fresh fruit, and a steaming cup of coffee, brewed exactly to your taste.

"Good morning," the Haechan chimes in, leaning closer with the coffee, letting the rich aroma reach you. "We thought you might need some sustenance after, well, last night." His voice drops playfully on the last two words, and his eyes gleam with mischief.

Still groggy, you push yourself up into a sitting position, the warmth of the blankets slipping down to your waist. They both sit down on either side of you, placing the tray gently on your lap, ensuring nothing spills.

"Did you know these walls are paper-thin?" Jaemin quips, his tone casual but the twinkle in his eye unmistakable.

"Yeah, like, ridiculously thin," Haechan adds, barely suppressing a chuckle. "We heard everything."

The realization hits you like a wave, and your cheeks flush crimson as you connect the dots. They're talking about last night—about the intimate moments you thought were confined within the walls of your room. Taeyong and Jaehyun often find their ways to be with you to spend a steamy night, let it be alone or two of them together. You open your mouth to respond, but words fail you as they both break into laughter, the sound filling the room.

"Don't worry," Jaemin grins and says, handing you the coffee with a smirk. "We're just having a bit of fun."

"you could have ignored it..."

Haechan, ever the tease, reaches over to tousle your hair affectionately. "Yeah, but seriously, maybe keep it down next time. Or don't. Just give us a heads-up so we can grab some earplugs or, you know, make plans to be with you." You miss out on the last part of his mischievous words.

They exchange a knowing glance, their laughter bubbling up again, lighthearted and carefree. Despite the embarrassment warming your cheeks, you find yourself smiling, too. It's impossible not to, given the way their banter fills the room with such a genuine, easy warmth.

You take a sip of the coffee, savoring the perfect balance of flavors, and the thoughtful gesture behind it. They woke up early, probably tiptoeing around the kitchen to surprise you with breakfast, even if they couldn't resist poking fun at you in the process.

As they continue to jest, their voices a comforting, familiar presence, you realize just how much these small moments of shared laughter and connection mean. They may tease you relentlessly, but the care and effort they put into this morning—a breakfast made with affection, a coffee brewed just right—speak volumes. It's these moments, filled with laughter and teasing, that make the bonds between you all so unbreakable, so real.

.

.

.

The house is quiet, a soft, comforting silence wrapping around you as you wander through the living room, taking in the small details of the place that has become a home to you. You shouldn't let your guards down so easily. But still your boundaries are melting around them. The walls are adorned with memories—photos, mementos, little pieces of the boys' lives that tell stories of who they were and who they've become.

Your gaze falls on a particular picture frame resting on a shelf, slightly hidden among the other frames but somehow drawing your attention. The photo inside is a snapshot from years ago, taken during their university days. In the picture, the boys standing messily, grinning widely, with you sandwiched between them, laughing at something that must have been funny in the moment. You look younger, carefree, and so utterly happy.

You can't help but stare at the photo, a flood of memories rushing back. You remember that day vividly—the warmth of the sun on your skin, the infectious energy of being with them, the easy laughter that flowed so freely between you all. It had been one of those perfect days, the kind that lingers in your mind long after it's passed.

The day you met them at the ground to thank them for helping and later spending the day with them.

Lost in thought, you don't notice them entering the room. It isn't until you hear a soft chuckle behind you that you realize you're not alone.

"are you searching for evidence against us?" Jeno whispers in your ear from behind. "my little agent on work?"

you flinch suddenly because you were not attentive to your surrounding because you think you are safe, "I already have a lot of evidence..." eyeing the photo with more interest, "I am not a loser agent. I get everything secretly."

"That was a good day, wasn't it?" Mark says, his voice warm and fond. You turn to see them both standing there, watching you with matching smiles, their eyes soft with affection.

You nod, your gaze drifting back to the picture. "It was. I didn't know you still had this," you say, your voice tinged with a mix of surprise and nostalgia.

"We couldn't get rid of it, even if we wanted to," Jeno responds, stepping closer to stand beside you. He reaches out, gently lifting the frame from the shelf so he can get a better look at it, his smile deepening as he takes in the image. "This picture means a lot to us."

You look at them both, curiosity piqued by the way they're gazing at the photo, as if it holds a significance you hadn't realized before. "Why is it so special?"

Mark brushes his hairs and glances at you, his expression softening as he begins to explain. "That day was more than just a fun memory for us. It was the day we realized how much we cared about you."

He pauses, searching for the right words. "We had been friends for a long time, but that day, something changed. We saw you in a different light, like we suddenly understood just how important you were to us—not just as a friend, but as someone we wanted to share everything with.

"we were never friends. it's just batchmates but you were in a different section." You lick your lips while glancing at Jeno, continuing, "I just interacted with you and other two for the notes or other stuff."

"you were very distant and moody but still Haechan tried to interact with you a lot." Jeno says and gives you a eye-smile. "we still considered you as our friend. We noticed and watched you since the first day of our college life."

Mark nods, picking up where his partner left off. "We had always been close, the four of us, but that day, we felt something shift. It was like... like we knew, deep down, that we didn't want to go through life without you. That picture captures the moment when we realized we loved you, not just as a friend, but as someone we wanted to be with."

You're taken aback by the sincerity in their voices, the depth of emotion in their eyes. They had never told you this before—never shared just how much that day had meant to them, how it had marked the beginning of something so much deeper than the friendliness you'd all shared.

"You never said anything," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to process their words.

"We didn't know how to," Mark admits, his gaze dropping to the photo in his hands. "We were afraid—afraid that if we said something, it might change everything, that we might lose you if you didn't feel the same way."

Jeno reaches out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "But we didn't lose you. Somehow, things just... fell into place. And when we look at this picture, it reminds us of how far we've come, how lucky we are to have you in our lives."

There's a pause, a brief moment of silence as the weight of their words settles in. You look at the photo again, seeing it now through their eyes—how it captured not just a moment of joy, but the beginning of something so much more profound.

"You mean everything to us," Mark continues, his voice thick with emotion. "And that picture is a reminder of the day we realized that. We've loved you since that moment, and we haven't stopped loving you since."

You feel a lump form in your throat, your heart swelling with an overwhelming mix of emotions. To know that they had felt this way for so long, that this simple photo held so much meaning for them, is almost too much to take in.

Without thinking, you step forward, wrapping your arms around Jeno, holding him close as you try to convey all the love and gratitude you feel in that moment. He immediately returns the embrace, his arms tightening around you, as if he is afraid to let go.

"I love you," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "I've loved you for so long, and I'm so glad that you found your way to me. I never told you about my feelings because I thought I was being stupid to think like that." You chuckles, "loving more than one person is such a wild and foolish decision. I love you, too." You glance at Mark.

Jeno holds you a little tighter, Mark comes behind you and strokes your hairs, pressed his forehead against the back of your head, their breaths warm against your skin as they press their foreheads against yours. In that embrace, surrounded by their warmth, you feel the weight of everything that picture represents—the past, the present, and the future you'll continue to build together. It's a moment of pure connection, one that transcends words, as you stand there, wrapped up in each other, knowing that this love has been with you all along, waiting to be fully realized.

Mark whispers, "you are not stupid. You are our little agent. My perfect girlfriend."

"girlfriend?"

Jeno presses a soft kiss on your head, "let's make it official."

.

.

.

The air is crisp and fresh as you step out of the car, the scent of pine trees and earth filling your lungs. The four boys had insisted on taking you somewhere special when Taeyong and Jaehyun went back to their mansion for an important work, and about the surprise --- they'd been frustratingly vague about the details, their excitement barely contained. Now, as you look around at the vast expanse of wilderness, with the sun beginning to set and casting a warm, golden glow over the mountain peaks, you start to understand why they wanted to keep this a surprise.

The sky above is a masterpiece of colors—shades of orange, pink, and purple blend together like a watercolor painting, creating a scene so breathtaking that it feels like you've stepped into another world. The boys have always known how much you love nature, how the mountains make you feel alive and at peace all at once. But there's something different about tonight—something in the air that tells you this moment is more than just a casual outing.

You follow them up a narrow trail, the sound of crunching leaves beneath your feet and the occasional rustle of wildlife the only noises breaking the tranquil silence. As you climb higher, the view opens up before you, revealing a stunning panorama of rolling hills and distant valleys, bathed in the soft, fading light of the day.

When you reach the top, you find yourself standing on a flat, open plateau, surrounded by the majesty of nature. The boys stop a few feet ahead of you, turning around to face you with expressions that are suddenly serious, their usual playfulness replaced by something deeper.

"Why did you bring me here?" you ask, your voice soft in the stillness of the mountain air. There's a flutter of anticipation in your chest, a sense that something important is about to happen.

They exchange a few glances, as if silently deciding who should speak first. Finally, one of them steps forward, Mark's eyes locking onto yours. There's a tenderness in his gaze that makes your heart flutter.

"We wanted to bring you somewhere special," he begins, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "Somewhere quiet, away from everything else, so we could tell you how we really feel."

You blink, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. "How do you feel?"

Jaemin nods, stepping up beside the first. "We've all been holding onto these feelings for a long time," he says, his voice low and sincere. "But it's not easy to put them into words. We didn't want to rush this, or make you feel pressured, so we waited until we were sure you were ready to hear it."

You glance between them, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness building in your chest. "Ready to hear what?"

Jeno steps closer, a small smile playing on his lips. "We love you," he says simply, the words falling from his lips as if they've been waiting forever to be spoken. "Not just as friends, but as something more. Each of us, in our own way, has fallen in love with you."

Yeah, you can recall the conversation you had with Jeno and Mark a week ago.

Your breath catches in your throat, your mind racing to process what you've just heard. You had always felt a strong connection with them, but you had never expected this—four hearts, all directed toward you, each one holding a love so deep and pure. Plus two more.

Haechan steps closer, his eyes locking with yours. "You mean everything to us," he says, his voice soft but unwavering. "We've been through so much together, and over time, we've all realized that what we feel for you is more than just friendship. It's something we can't ignore anymore."

You swallow hard, your emotions swirling inside you. This isn't what you expected when they brought you up here, and yet, somehow, it feels like everything is finally falling into place.

Every day after returning from those cruel missions, you expected to hear such words from someone, to feel such care and love from someone but all you used to get welcomed by a silent and confined apartment room. And, now you are overwhelmed with all these sudden confessions from four of your crushes.

"I don't know what to say," you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to say anything right now," Mark reassures you, stepping closer so he can place a hand on your shoulder. "We just needed you to know. We've all been struggling with these feelings for so long, and it felt wrong to keep them hidden from you any longer."

Haechan steps forward, reaching for your hand. His touch is gentle, almost hesitant, as if he's afraid you might pull away. "We've been there for each other through everything—the good times and the bad. And somewhere along the way, what we felt for you became something more than just friendship."

Jaemin nods, his expression earnest. "We've all had moments where we wanted to tell you, but we were scared. Scared of what it might mean, scared of how you might react. But the truth is, we couldn't go on pretending these feelings didn't exist."

There's a brief pause, a moment where the weight of their words hangs in the air between you. You look at each of them, seeing the vulnerability in their eyes, the raw honesty in their faces. They're laying their hearts bare before you, offering you a love that's as vast and wild as the mountains surrounding you.

Finally, you find your voice. "I... I love you too," you say, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I've felt something for each of you for so long, but I didn't know what it was. I didn't know if it was okay to feel this way, or if you'd feel the same. But hearing you say it... it makes everything so clear."

Relief washes over their faces, a collective breath released as they step closer, closing the distance between you. Jaemin pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you in a warm, comforting embrace. The others quickly join in, surrounding you with their warmth, their love, their sheer presence.

"I was so afraid of losing you," Jeno murmurs into your ear, his voice thick with emotion. "But now, I feel like we've found something even more incredible."

Haechan rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment. "We've always been a team, the four of us. And now, it feels like we've finally found the missing piece."

Mark, still holding your hand, squeezes it gently. "We don't want to rush you or overwhelm you. We just want you to know that we're here, that we love you, and that we'll take this one step at a time, together."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, not from sadness but from the overwhelming sense of love and belonging that washes over you. You've always known that these boys were special to make your heart flutter during university but you never this magical moment to happen in future and even this way. But now, standing here on this mountaintop with the sun setting behind you and the stars beginning to twinkle in the evening sky, you realize that this is where you're meant to be—with them, with the boys who have captured your heart.

"I don't want to lose any of you," you say, your voice trembling slightly. "I want to be with all of you, if that's what you want too."

They nod in unison, their expressions softening with a mixture of joy and relief. The first boy cups your face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing away the tears that have started to fall. "We want that too," he says, his voice tender. "We'll figure it out together, no matter what. We'll take care of each other, just like we always have."

As the last rays of sunlight fade and the first stars begin to twinkle in the evening sky, you find yourself standing on that mountaintop, surrounded by the boys you love, knowing that this is only the beginning of a new and beautiful journey together. The mountains stand as silent witnesses to your confession, the trees swaying gently in the evening breeze, as if nature itself is celebrating the love you've found with each other.

And as you stand there, wrapped in their arms, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll face them together—with love, with strength, and with the unbreakable bond that has brought you all to this moment.

The mission had been one of the most challenging yet. You had spent the past few hours slipping through the shadows, navigating a world of deception, lies, and danger. When it was over, and you finally returned home, all you wanted was a moment of peace—a chance to breathe, to let the tension unwind from your body. You have returned back from the mountain penthouse and it's often that you go back to them after missions.

But as soon as you stepped through the door of the grand mansion, you knew peace was the last thing you would find.

The atmosphere in the place is thick with tension, a suffocating heaviness that hit you the moment you cross the threshold. The lights are dim, casting long shadows across the room, but you could still see them—your four boys who are not busy like the two elders, waiting for you. Their faces are etched with worry, anger, and something that cut even deeper: betrayal.

You had known this confrontation was inevitable, but you hadn't expected it to come so soon. You had hoped to have a little time to collect yourself, to prepare for the conversation you knew was coming. But they weren't going to wait.

"Where the hell have you been?" Jaemin snapped, his voice tight, almost trembling with the effort to stay calm. He was usually the one to greet you with a warm smile and a gentle touch, but tonight, there was none of that. His eyes, usually so full of warmth, were now sharp and accusatory as they raked over your appearance.

You were still in the dress—the dress that had been chosen specifically to attract attention, to blend into the crowd at the club, to play a role that was far removed from who you really were. It was a sleek, figure-hugging number that left little to the imagination, paired with makeup that was meant to dazzle, to seduce. It was a disguise, a tool, nothing more. But to them, it was something else entirely.

You opened your mouth to speak, to explain, but another voice cut you off.

"And what the hell were you thinking, wearing that?" Jeno demanded, his voice harsher than you'd ever heard it. He was usually the voice of reason, the one who calmed the others down when things got heated, but now there was nothing calm about him. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of hurt and anger as they lingered on the dress.

"And don't even get me started on how close you were with that guy at the club," Haechan added, his voice tinged with an edge of bitterness. He had always been the more possessive one, protective to a fault, but this time, his protectiveness had turned into something more volatile.

You sighed, feeling the weight of their emotions pressing in on you from all sides. This was exactly what you had been trying to avoid—this confrontation, this pain. But you had made your choice, and now you had to face the consequences.

"It was part of the mission," you began, trying to keep your voice steady, though you could hear the exhaustion creeping in. "I had to blend in, to be someone who could get close enough to him to get the information we needed. The dress, the act, it was all just a cover. Nothing more."

But they weren't buying it. Mark steps forward, his eyes filled with something that looked dangerously close to betrayal. "You could have told us," he said, his voice quieter than the others but no less intense. "You could have prepared us for what you were about to do, for what we were going to see. But instead, we find out through some grainy surveillance footage? Do you have any idea what that felt like? Watching you with him, dressed like that, acting like—" He broke off, his voice faltering, unable to finish the sentence. He was angry.

You told your detailed format to Taeyong and Jaehyun and honestly, they were more dangerously mad at you and denied the very first instance you brought the topic.

They are always possessive of you so that you don't get hurt and there is this glint of danger in their eyes whenever you are close to any other men be it for the sake of the missions.

You could see it in their eyes—they were hurt, deeply hurt. This wasn't just about the dress or the mission. It was about trust, about feeling like you had kept them in the dark, excluded them from something important. They had always known your job was dangerous, that it required you to do things they weren't comfortable with, but this felt different. This felt personal.

"I didn't want to worry you," you said, your voice softening as the guilt started to settle in. "I know how hard it is for you to see me in situations like that. I thought... I thought it would be easier if you didn't know the details until it was over."

"hard for us?" Jaemin shook his head, his voice thick with frustration. "No, you were protecting yourself. You didn't want to deal with how we'd react, so you shut us out. That's not how this works."

Mark stepped closer, his voice softer now, but no less firm. "We understand that your job requires you to do things we might not like. We've accepted that. But you should have trusted us enough to tell us the truth, to let us in. Instead, we were blindsided, and that hurt more than anything."

Haechan, usually the most affectionate and playful, was uncharacteristically silent, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you with a mixture of hurt and disappointment. Jeno just looked serious, like this had taken more out of him than he was willing to admit.

You were cornered, not just physically but emotionally, the weight of their disappointment and concern bearing down on you. You had tried to keep them away from worrying, but in doing so, you had pushed them away. You had underestimated how much they needed to be a part of your life, all of it—the good, the bad, and the ugly.

"I'm sorry," you finally said, your voice breaking slightly as the emotions you had been holding back all night finally began to surface. "I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping you out of it, but I see now that I was wrong. I should have trusted you more. I should have let you in."

There was a long, heavy silence as your words hung in the air. The anger in their eyes began to fade, replaced by a deep, weary sadness. They wanted to be angry, but more than that, they wanted to understand. They wanted to move past this, but the hurt was still fresh, the wounds still raw.

Jaemin reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he took yours, squeezing it gently. "We just want to be part of your life," he said, his voice soft but firm. "All of it. Even the parts that scare us. Especially those parts."

Mark nodded, stepping closer to place a hand on your shoulder. "We're in this together, remember? That means no more secrets. No more keeping things from us because you think you're protecting us. We can handle it, but only if you let us in."

Haechan finally uncrossed his arms, moving to stand beside you, his expression softening as he placed a gentle kiss on your temple. "We love you. That's not going to change. But we need you to trust us. We need to be a team."

Jeno, still looking serious but less distant, finally spoke up, his voice quiet but resolute. "We know this job is hard, and we're not asking you to change who you are or what you do. We just want to be there for you, the way you're always there for us."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as they closed in around you, surrounding you with their warmth and love. The tension that had been suffocating you slowly began to dissipate, replaced by a renewed sense of connection, of trust. You had made a mistake, but they were willing to forgive you, to move forward together.

"I promise," you said, your voice trembling with the weight of that promise. "No more secrets. From now on, we face everything together."

They nodded, their expressions softening as they drew you into a tight embrace, each of them holding you close.

"but you need to compensate for the emotions you made us felt. You made us worry and angry when we didn't know nothing about your whereabouts." Jaemin states and raises a brow at you, "Thanks to Hyuck that he chalks out everything and we finally got to you."

"what compensation?" your question is more of a surprise.

Jaemin's words click something in their mind altogether when the corner of their lips curling up, the previous turmoil of emotion --- anger and worry changing to lust and dark hunger. Oh! As soon as you step backward, your back comes in contact with a hard chest, his arms caging you to his front and his lips automatically hovering over your ear, chuckling heavily and huskily says, "don't run away, princess. We have not done yet."

You crane tour neck to look at Jeno whose smirk widens after meeting your anticipating eyes. "I don't understand."

"it's really hard to believe that coming from an undercover agent who is looking all fuckable in front of us." Haechan says and licks his lips, already imagining all the possibilities of later tonight. His thoughts wander a lot of places. Jaemin holds your hand, pulling you away from Jeno, his grip is tight when he pulls you towards the stairs, the others following behind you two.

He steps forward pushing you inside the room. Mark sits down on the gaming chair and rotates it so he's facing the king sized bed. They use this room whenever they play some games, staying up all night or for other enjoyment like now. Jeno took off his shirt, already feeling hot by thinking about you and throws it away on the sofa and is smirking while watching you closely.

you feel timid being around and watched by them, so you looked everywhere except their eyes. the silence stretched for a couple of minutes before Jaemin breaks it. no one can believe that the mafia members are commanding a smart government agent to put on a show for them.

"Come on, show us how you seduced the man back at the club." he starts then rests his back completely at the chair in the corner.

your feet glued at the floor and breathing got hitched while facing your back at Haechan. His gaze burning at your back from the edge of the bed where he is sitting all ready to start their game, the others heated gaze pierced cutting your dress into million pieces. you can feel it.

"don't keep us waiting." Mark says in a very demanding tone. "or you want us to help you out with it? I didn't see any helping hand back then."

slowly, you met their eyes with a slight fear flickering through your eyes. It'll be stupid to say that you are scared of them but the anticipation building inside you of what might happen is rising goosebumps all over your skin.

"h-huh? but we're supposed to rest. I mean I'm literally tired after the deal."

"oh fuck that old bastard, sweetheart! we're going to make you more tired if you keep us waiting." Jeno interrupts, smirking after licking his plump lips once. his eyes stare at you like a hungry predator. Your eyes rake all over his bare body in only jeans. Aware of the fact that he is a gym rat but tonight in this gaze, he is looking more exquisite --- more like yours. The same feeling you felt back in university days, whenever he came late to the classes, or passed by you in a hurry for practice. You loved him. and the first person you intended to spy on was him. of course.

"You are eye-fucking him. not complaining, I love when you take control over something." Jaemin says, mischief lazing through his voice while smirking sexily beside Mark.

Jeno and Jaemin both sat on the sofa. the man who has his polo unbuttoned all the way, leaning forward as his elbow rests over his knees and eyes burning at you. he's quiet and red plump lips hardly pursed. his dark, thick eyebrows narrowed together. His pretty eyelashes with his kissable lips never fail to attract you towards him and that was the reason why you always stole glances in the college. He is a flirt unlike Jeno but whenever these two are together, God forbid their teasing.

you remained standing awkwardly in the middle of the bedroom, the door a few feet away from you. it slid inside your mind. to try and run away from them. but it's impossible. with their build, they can easily catch you. Also, it's not that you don't like it. you have never been with four of them together.

besides, Jeno is sitting on the path towards it. he can easily grab and stop you from escaping. that's totally crossed out of your plans. And you will definitely love to be manhandled by them.

you heaved a sigh, "how?"

"less words, more actions." If Mark is commanding you, then you should better listen than to piss him off because he is sometimes unpredictable. You glance at him, biting your lips and your mind flooding with what to do at the moment. You swear that you have never felt so tense even during your work, but facing these four hungry eyes is a lot more difficult.

instantly, your lips are pursed hardly. despite him showing a little smile a while ago, you're terrified whenever he's very serious but you are enjoying it more than they can imagine. Hiding the smirk threatening to appear on your face, you turn around to face Haechan who is all silent all these times.

"we're waiting, baby." He catches your attention. "or should I say that I'm impatient to experience it?"

you stare at him for a while and realized that you have nowhere to go. they got you cornered and stripped off of choices. once again, you're helpless around these four men. You allowed them to make you helpless. If needed, you will allow them again and again and again...

you brush your hairs before tugging them behind your ears and Haechan's eyes drops from your pretty eyes to your lips. they're looking kissable and he is eager to suck them until it starts bleeding and he's certain it's the best thing to witness. his grin grew wider. his nerves are shaking in excitement. he couldn't wait to have you, to devour you, to ruin you.

You step forward towards him.

"go on, y/n." Mark, again with his stern voice.

your cast a last glance towards them before advancing your steps to the one sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for his girl. his eyes then soften and he sighs, fists curling on the mattress.

"Come on, baby. Let's pretend we are the mafias and you are here to catch us and for that you have to lure us with your seduction." he says in a calm voice. It's still a surprise how he's acting right now. he's not sassy and giving cocky remarks but calmly asking you how to start the show he wants to watch and feel. it slightly made you feel excited more like him, like them.

You stand in front of him, making an eye-contact with him, you strangled on his lap, putting your legs on the either side of his thighs and sit, facing him closely, you can feel his breath over your chest and your dress rolling up your thighs, revealing more of your skin.

A sudden music blooms inside the room, you have heard this music once from Jaemin, it's one of his favorite songs --- Love Talk, "let's make it more feel like a club." he says that got your heart rate pace up. your legs tightens around Haechan's waist.

Haechan rolls his eyes, "yeah, whatever. I'm just trying to make her feel excited like us. you're putting too much pressure on her even when she is tired after her return." You crane your neck to look at the three men behind you.

Jeno clicks his tongue and glanced back at you. his eyes looked more aggressive, screams more danger.

"why, sweetheart? You are not excited? But I think -" he stepped closer, making you hold your breath.

"she is enjoying it more than you think." Mark smirks in the end of his words, his face are inches away from yours when he walks closer to you, that you can feel his hot breath fanning your skin.

"let her begin already, you are making our turn delay." Jeno says and plants a kiss on the side of your throat.

Mark ignores him and kept his stares right at your pretty face. despite the lack of answer, the little spark and fear in your eyes were enough to tell him that you are indeed excited. it didn't make him feel happy, instead it drives him more-crazy. You are definitely their dirty little agent.

"show me, y/n. I'm still waiting." Haechan groans and snakes his arms around you, pulling you close flush to his body. The other two males return to their respective seats and preparing to enjoy the show unfolding in front of them.

you gulp and return your gaze back at the man holding you, starting to fasten your pace. now unbuttoning his white polo— you want to rip it and launch at him.

He clenches his jaw hardly, fighting so hard not to moan loudly when your hands working to undress him. this is not the first time that he will be so intimate with you, being in such intense tension between you both, but he is excited because he will have you in front of his friends. to show them how perfect you are for him --- oh need to keep in mind --- for them.

that thought was the only thing that is going on repeat inside his head. he couldn't help but to feel excited thinking about it.

Jaemin stands up that made other two glance at his direction. He trudges towards you both where you are sliding down the shirt off Haechan's body.

"don't get in the way." Jeno warns him, but the latter just smirks at him before getting close to you, before you could understand what's happening, he spanks your ass. Jaemin throws him a short glance as he licks his lip. You yelp in the sudden effect.

"it's intriguing and can't help it." he brushes back his hair. "I'm going to love to smack it again." he added then glance at Mark, "are we still up with our plan, right?"

Mark stares for a while before tearing his gaze off of Jaemin and nods slowly. His gaze returns back to your back, looking so sexy with your backless dress.

"you are so hot baby. Can you take off my clothes every day?" Haechan purrs in your ears, when you finished getting rid of his polo and starts kissing his jaw and throat. You grab his hairs and pulls them before bringing your lips to his ears.

"Haechan..." you kiss his neck and bite slightly, "I can do anything you want."

"shit." he shortly said. He yanks your head, pulling your hairs, grabbing them messily and stares at your face, all dolled up earlier for the club. The possessiveness in him becoming strong that you were so close with that old man. "did you kiss him this way too, baby?"

you stared at his eyes and slowly shake your head. You can definitely see his jealousy and hunger in his eyes for you. Always knowing his possessive and jealous self behind that sassy attitude of his. He used to often fool around with Taeyong and Mark at college and your eyes were all over them. Haechan was always surrounded by girls because he loves the attention and once, your heart broke when you got the news of him having a girlfriend. Whatever, he is now all yours.

"it's only for you." You kiss his lips, before smiling seductively at him, "you are mine. So, I'll only kiss you."

the moment you finished the sentence, showing your hot agent look in front of them, you feel shy suddenly when you feel their eyes focused on you. Haechan returns a soft kiss back to you, smiling mischievously. the four men stares silently, their eyes grew darker, looked hungrier.

"you are perfect for me. that old man should not have touched you." He mumbles, this time a lot softer. "I want to erase his touch from your skin, from your memory." he added while pulling you into a feverish kiss. You can feel the impatience, hunger, jealousy and his love for you.

before he continues to make you out of breath, he snakes his hand on your nape to pull you closer to him to place a wet, but gentle kiss on your lips then stares right at your eyes.

"you're so pretty. do you know that?" he says under his breath that made your heart race. he seems pissed, and honestly his attitude today looks more attractive. he's very playful in nature, but the way he's so aggressive is not like him. and you love this side of him more.

"let me fucking eat you." he adds and changing his position, rubbing his palms over your bare thighs and already fucking you with his eyes.

your eyes moved towards Jaemin and he is sitting on the side of the bed, watching you closely. Haechan puts you down from his lap, pinning you down on the mattress and hovering on top of you, hungrily watching his prey caged in his predatory walls.

You are still in your dress and your heels, pushing your dress up to reveal your panty, he opened your thighs for him, giving a full display of your slightly wet core. he growls lightly, salivating by the view.

"damn, this pussy." he mumbles before giving it a slap, making you purse your lips together. Sliding down the panty slowly, he quickly licks the dripping slick and groans, making others curse under their breath. Their hard painfully restricted under their jeans.

Haechan almost went crazy for having a taste of your cunt. he always loved it. if he can, he will eat you all day. so he didn't waste a time to dive in and lap your cunt like a hungry animal. you whimper and legs slowly closing out of pleasure from the way he's eating you.

a hand then reaches over your knee to open them back. when you open your eyes, you see Jaemin. he's already standing at the edge of the bed, beside Haechan. His pink t-shirt is off already and he's left with just his boxers.

"keep them wide open, princess." he orders while his other hand palms his cock inside his shorts.

you can't even say a word or resist as your mind gets all fuzzy because of how good Haechan is making you feel. he giggles through your cunt making you shut your eyes, brows arching closer to each other. your face contorts out of pleasure. his hand rests at your thighs and massages it gently. you can feel a hand carding your hair, brushing it off your pretty face. The gesture and the love words whispering in your eyes giving it away that it's definitely Jaemin.

your eyes pry open when Haechan pulls away, whining loudly due to the deny of your orgasm.

"sorry, angel. but you are not going to cum so easily." Mark catches your attention. he's already near the bed too. when your eyes look at Jaemin, he's already taking off his boxers as he slightly drags you towards the corner of the bed. He dives his head and kisses you on your lips while fondling on your covered tits.

"keep the heels on." Jeno commands, before standing beside Mark, watching you with his predator gaze. "also, don't strip her off her dress fully. I want to rip it off from her." Jaemin nods, only pulling down the upper part of your dress, revealing the chest and a few faint marks still visible on your chest, Mark's smirk curls up on his face, imagining the steamy night he had with you last week when he imprinted his name on your body --- Mark.

Jaemin sucks your tits and pulls the perked-up nipples between his teeth, "uhm," you moan. he gives it a few more suck then tugs it lightly using his teeth as he pulls away, making you yelp.

"suck my dick, baby. let's get you busy." Jaemin mumbles and places his shaft near your face. "An agent is more capable of doing two jobs at once."

Haechan, then again continues eating you, making you squirm again. he pushes your thighs wider, doesn't giving you any chance to close it. he wants to take his time, eating and enjoying how you whimper in pleasure. the way you look pained, but he knew pretty well that he's making you feel so good.

"how's the view of my marks?" Mark nudges Jeno by bumping his shoulder, taunting his friend. The latter just glares in return. Your teary eyes catch their interaction but you the sudden intrusion of Jaemin's tip to your mouth gains back your attention on him. your perfect elegant and seductive make-up is getting ruined by their possessiveness over you.

your eyes closes when he enters his length into your mouth, making you choke when he hit the back of your throat. Jeno's dark eyes are darted at you while he sexily licks his lips, waiting patiently for his turn. It's taking everything of him not to get in between. he couldn't help but feel so aroused by the sight of his own friends using you.

he remains silent and just watch from the end of the bed. Jaemin narrows his brows when his cock reaches the inside of your mouth and tip hitting the soft muscles. it feels so warm and soft, something that drives him crazy.

You drive him crazy.

they are already crazy for you.

"fuck." he curses and started to thrust on his own liking.

while Haechan laps your pussy and Jaemin fucks your mouth, Jeno takes off his jeans. he positions himself on your other side then grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He can't keep himself away from you longer.

"you aren't forgetting about me now, are you angel?" Jeno's taunting voice rings over your head and you mumbled something, causing vibration straight to the throbbing cock in your mouth.

"oh just like that, baby." he groans and continues pistoning his hips towards you. his dick twitches when he watches your messed up mascara and smudged lipstick, your messy hair sticking to your forehead, earlier it was so neatly brushed. that old man can't ever get to see this sight of yours. huh!

Mark and Jeno give a few strokes to their dicks before leaning to give you a kiss on the throat and chest as well. it lasted for a few more seconds until he pulls away so they can attain your bare and bouncing chest.

"oh, yeah. just like that." Jaemin mumbles as he watches you all occupied with them. He can swear he is loving the sight before him how all of them are using you for their own pleasure and of course --- pushing you more to your building up climax.

Mark cannot help but to feel very excited at the view. how your eyes are tear stained yet still do as they say. its giving a satisfaction he couldn't get from anything. he was certain you're the only one who can give it to him, to them. Their little agent is working so hard for them, he mentally chuckles.

Haechan bite your clit slightly and giggles mischievously while tongue buried deep inside your wet hole. his chin wet with your juices and his saliva. it was heaven for him to see you squirm uncontrollably because of pleasure.

"u-ugh! Please..." your mouth freeing the big dick to mumble the words that made him groan in pleasure, your hand too tightens around in Jeno's hold. it indicates that you are nearing your first release and they all couldn't wait.

"are you near, angel?" Jaemin asks, whimpering from his own pleasure.

you nodded continuously, slightly losing your mind at the climax you've been anticipating.

"i'm near too, baby. let's cum together." he groans and grind even harder, chasing you.

"give it to me, baby." Haechan fucks into your cunt using his two fingers, tongue attached on your hole, waiting for that sweet juice he's been dying for. "you have caught me. Agent caught the mafia member." He chuckles in the end.

Mark brushes your hairs off from your face, making sure to fist them so it won't cover your pretty features. he loves staring and watching you whimper in pleasure. beads of sweat forms on your forehead and his eyes travels down your tits bouncing slightly due to the effect of two males fucking you.

Jeno leans and puts your nipple inside his mouth, sucking and twirling his hot tongue on the tip, making you feel dizzy.

"nghhh," your thighs shakes and tries to move away from their abusive pleasurable touch but all of them hold you firm, making sure you have nowhere to go. sucking and taking all of your juices.

the sensation making your eyes rolls at the back of your head. Jaemin, too reaches his climax and shoot at the depth of your hot mouth, cursing and growling.

"such a good agent for us." he says and leans to give you a kiss on your cheeks. "pretty angel." he adds and places another kiss.

once done harvesting your cum, Haechan stands up and licks his lips with a grin on his face.

"get on fours." he says and grabs your hand to help you get up from laying down. he knew you're still in trance from the recent release. He loves to fuck you into unconsciousness.

Jeno gently press your palm to catch your attention. he arched his brows while glancing softly at your direction. Mark brushes your hair away and wiped off the sweat.

"you good, baby? Don't tell me you have just this in you." Jeno asks and helps you position yourself. you nod your head once, head still fuzzy. he chuckles, finding you adorable and kisses your shoulder once.

"you're so hot, y/n." Mark says and smacks your butt cheeks. you yelp slightly at the impact. it stings a bit but it oddly feels so good. Haechan groans and cupped both your butt and leans in to kiss it, spanking two times before staring at the red print left by his palms.

"calm down, Hyuck." Jeno chuckles and caresses your butt which he answered with a giggle. "we still are left to wet our dicks."

Jeno stands up, bringing his shorts down to bring his shaft in front of your eyes, "don't be greedy, okay?" he says and positions himself in front of you. "there's four of us and you need to give it to everyone." a small nod is what you gave him and he smirks, pinching your cheeks because he finds you cute this way. all submissive and sweaty.

Dom illegal mafia members with the sub government official agent.

"relax your muscles." Haechan says from behind and Jeno just nods his head, bringing his face closer to yours, "it will hurt this way. I know you feel scared but keep your trust on us and it'll be all good." Meanwhile, Haechan spits on your hole to make it lubed around to enter his dick.

you moaned the moment you felt he is pushing his dick inside of you, stretching you in the process. his thick veiny cock slowly disappears. just half of it and he's already going crazy. he missed this feeling. he missed feeling you around him, suffocating and taking all of his length.

"fuck, you're so tight." he groans and couldn't wait anymore as he did a hard thrust, reaching it deep.

your eyes widen at the sudden visitor making your mouth gap as well. Jeno took this chance to enter your mouth and he let out muffled curses because of how hot your lips feels around him. his brows narrowed closer to each other. if he is losing his mind feeling your warm mouth wrapped around his dick, then he is already insane after watching your fucked out face staring back at him.

"shit." Jeno curses and take his time rutting his dick over your mouth. he was fighting back not to go too hard as he wants to go slow. He is more aggressive when he is alone with you but this time, he is just taking his sweet time and showing his caring for you because the other one is not going to restrain himself.

on the other hand, Haechan is the opposite. he's going fast and deep making you see stars. you tried hard to keep on all fours, but you can feel your knees losing its strength, along with your arms. as he started to take it faster, making sure he's hitting every delicious places inside you, Jeno decided to catch pace with him. the room was filled with your moans and the erotic skin slapping sounds of your bodies colliding each other.

"i'm f-fucking close..." Haechan hissed and laid his tongue out sexily. Jeno smirks and gets more aggressive on using your mouth to chase his own orgasm. "me too." you moaned and tightens your cunt and lips when you felt your own climax approaching. Their breath became more heavy at the pleasure you are making them feel.

"fuck you feel so good like this, sweetheart." Haechan groans and slaps your butt then leans down to kiss your back, making sure to suck on the skin to leave a mark. "so good for me." he says, almost out of breath. "so damn good for all of us."

"our dirty little girl." Mark chuckles attractively.

and a few more deep thrust, Haechan released his hot cum inside you. Jeno throws his head back, cumming inside your mouth. the three of you are catching your breaths while he tries to catch your highs. your knees gave in and body collided to soft white sheets. Jaemin steps in, caressing your cheeks softly and made sure you're all right. "tired, angel?" he whispered, smiling while looking at your shut eyes and breathing heavily.

Haechan pulls out, some of his cum dripping out from your hole. he kneels down to see it more clearly and groans at the sight of it. he licks two of his fingers and slides it in your hole, shoving his cum back. it made you jolt and moan, feeling too much. he chuckles, "you did good for me, baby." his eyes a lot softer than before. he seems to calm down now.

"we're not done yet." Mark mumbles that you responded with a light groan. he ignores it and laid back at the side of you, where you are panting after the intense consecutive orgasms. "ride me, baby." he held your arm to guide you over his lap. you needed some help and the other boys were quick to assist you.

"too t-tired.." you manage to say. Jeno placed a chaste kiss at your cheeks.

"its okay, i'll do the work." Mark assures you.

you are not at the proper state of mind to respond or comprehend what he suggested. your mind is too clouded with pleasure and the overstimulation is taking away your capability to understanding anything.

"angel?" Jaemin gently calls you. tracing the lining of your sandle.

"hmm?" you hummed.

he chuckles, "can you handle both at the same time. is that okay?"

you can't even process anything. a nod is all you gave them. Haechan knows they didn't try it yet but he can't deny that he's also looking forward to it. he's so sure you'll look so alluring having both your holes filled.

"damn, so tight." Mark mumbles after sliding his index finger inside as a test. "Hyuck's mouth couldn't even make it loose that you are sucking my fingers so tightly." he pulls out his finger to line his dick with your entrance.

Mark slides his cock inside your pussy as Jeno puts the tip in front of your butt hole. your eyes slightly grow big and worry flashes your pretty face.

"h-huh?" you're about to look back when Jaemin cups your face. he smiles sweetly and kisses your lips.

"don't be scared, princess. we'll make sure you will feel good, okay?" his gaze too soft and hypnotizing. its not that you don't want it. for the past months that you've been under these boys, they've already corrupted you.

Mafias have corrupted the little agent. behind those innocent looking eyes you flashes them is the dark desire of having them all to yourself.

you are a corrupted official for them.

Jaehyun already said once, "I know your gazes are never pure, y/n."

Mark intertwines his fingers with yours, kissing the knuckles, "it'll be alright, baby." he smiles and squeezes your palms. His thrusts are restless from the start but you suddenly gets distracted when Jaemin cups your cheeks and pressed his alluring lips to yours, kissing you lovingly. His kiss always feel like he is taking all his time with you, he can have you till the end of the universe. Mark's thumb rubbing circle on your clit, making it impossible to hold back yourself and give in to Jaemin fully, your free hand grabbing Mark's biceps tightly.

Who thought that the campus crush is beneath you and you are riding his cock? None of those pretty girls got this privilege to be his --- but you still got him after playing the game of chase and catch.

Mark stops his action when you were about to hit the climax, oh he is in love with you whining out for releasing pleasure, he can edge you all day if that's how you sound like. "here i come, love." Jeno's low voice ringed from behind you and as he says, he pushes forward. "ugh," you groaned, hurting from the stretch. Mark starts to slowly fuck from below you, just to ease some of the pain you're going through. "i-it hurts..." your eyes starts tearing up.

Jaemin again leans in and attached his lips on yours, tongue messily dancing with each other, "I know but you need to relax for us."

"fuck, so tight..." Mark groaned, eyes shut from the pleasure of being squeezed inside you.

"her cunt is tighter too. keep going." Jeno's brows are narrowed from pleasure. the sting is still there, but it became more tolerable as the two dicks fuck you from below and above making out with you. eventually, they're sliding in and out smoothly, matching each other's pace. Haechan sits on the bed, pinching your nipples and taking one of your breasts inside his warm mouth, sucking it hard.

The sound of ripping of clothes echoes inside the room when Jeno tears of your dress away and hugs you from behind, dipping his head, biting down your shoulders and throat, fondling with your boobs.

"oh m-my gosh.." your eyes rolled at the back of your head from the intense pleasure you are having. you cannot describe it. the way their big dicks are drilling you are making you crazy, feels like heaven. And the mouths over your hot skin is igniting the fire.

"fuck." they cursed hardly as they fuck you in sync.

Jaemin salivates just by watching you getting used by them. you look beautiful. you look so hot. and you are his. you belong to them. "so good for us. such a good girl." Jeno mumbles into your ears, biting the lobe.

"you're so good, baby." Mark whispers and gets up to position himself in a sitting position to suck your breasts. you smile and moans, trying to keep your eyes open to look at him. your free hand reaches over his handsome face and cares it, "k-kiss me, Mark." his eyes darken and without hesitation he gives in to your request.

a few moments, they both came inside your holes together with you. both of your legs shakes and body collapsing on top of Mark, panting so hard. His lips are still on you, kissing you like that he can't give you up to anyone.

Jeno breaths in the crook of your neck, taking your sweet scent. Their dick still buried inside you, when Mark leaves your mouth to mark your chest, Jeno pulls your face closer to make out as he kept sliding his dick inside, fucking his cum back.

your eyes already closed and almost passing out. he kisses your cheeks and smiles.

"sweetheart?" Jeno calls out between his heavy breaths.

you didn't respond so he slightly pulls away to check on you. he saw you're dozing off so he smiled and kisses your cheeks gently.

"you are the best agent for us. So good. The perfect one.", he whispers. "I love you, sweetheart."

Mark pulls out and before going towards the bathroom for cleaning himself, he grabbed the towel from Haechan that he tossed and cleaned you. he leans over your face to kiss you softly with a warm smile on his face. "are you hurt? Was it too much? Just know I'll always love you."

You shake your head, "no." you manage to smile, "I know that. I love you too, Mark."

Haechan brushes away some hairs that sticked onto your pretty face, "I love you so much." he whispers.

"I love you too."

they never miss to reassure their care and love for you after intense sessions.

Jaemin helped you up into his arms, following after Jeno and he walks inside the bathroom where the warm bath is waiting for you. you groaned, "we'll just clean you before you rest, angel." he assured and gently placed you at the bathtub. you can feel your whole body aching, mind still fuzzy after what you all did.

Jaemin helps you sit on the bathtub, pressing a kiss on your forehead, "I love my angel so much." he takes off your sandal, he still wants to keep it on your naked body.

"I love my pretty boyfriend so much." You mimic his tone.

The steamy and messy night turns into warm, cozy and a night filled with you finding comfort in four pair of arms.

That's how you always imagined a life after returning from missions and you got it.

In the penthouse suite, the night is thick with tension. The lights are low, casting long shadows that dance across the room as you stand in front of a large mirror, carefully applying the finishing touches to your makeup. The reflection staring back at you is a vision of deadly elegance. The dress you've chosen clings to your body like a second skin, its dark fabric shimmering subtly under the soft glow. You adjust the strap of your stiletto, your movements precise, practiced. This isn't just another night out—it's a mission, and you've prepared for every possible outcome.

Behind you, the air hums with the presence of your boyfriends, each of them a force to be reckoned with. Taeyong, stands in the corner, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes following your every move. There's a heaviness to his silence, a weight that presses down on everyone in the room. He's seen you like this before, ready for battle, but it never gets easier for him. The thought of you getting close to another man, even in the name of duty, grates against his very soul.

"you are applying too much lipstick. You are not going on a date with him to impress." He glares at you when you smirk at him amusedly.

Jaehyun, always calculating, sits on the edge of the bed, his fingers steepled as he considers the plan once more. His sharp mind is usually focused on strategy, but tonight, it's clouded with something unfamiliar—jealousy. He watches as you apply a final touch of lipstick, the vivid color striking against your skin. He trusts you implicitly, but the idea of you using your charm on someone else ties his stomach in knots.

"you are enjoying making us jealous." Still just a smirk in reply  to him. he rolls his eyes at your attitude.

Haechan, with his tech-savvy ways, pretends to be engrossed in his phone, though his attention is anything but divided. He's monitoring the club's security feeds, but his eyes keep darting back to you, lingering on the curve of your neck where the necklace rests. He's always been the quiet one before missions, but tonight, he's struggling to keep his emotions in check. The thought of you playing a part that requires you to be anything other than his makes his blood run cold.

"if I see one inch closer than he should be, he is going to be dead."

You chuckle, "your loss. He is the source to get all the information."

Jaemin, ever the charmer, crosses the room to stand behind you. His hands rest lightly on your shoulders as he meets your gaze in the mirror. "You look stunning," he murmurs, but there's a sharp edge to his voice. His fingers trail down your arm, a possessive touch that speaks volumes. He can't hide the irritation in his eyes at the thought of you being the center of another man's attention, even if it's all part of the act. "but you are mine."

Mark is pacing like a caged tiger, his usual soft and calm demeanor replaced by frustration. "I don't like this," he mutters, more to himself than to anyone else. He's always been the calm-head, but often quick to anger, and the idea of you flirting with the target makes his fists clench. He wants to protect you, to shield you from any danger, even if it means defying the plan. "if needed, punch him."

"I know what to do." You roll your eyes.

Jeno, the most enigmatic of the group, stands by the window, the city lights casting a faint glow across his chiseled features. He's always been hard to read, his emotions buried deep, but tonight, there's a storm brewing behind those cold eyes. He doesn't speak, doesn't need to—his presence is a silent promise that no one will lay a hand on you without facing his wrath. He can't resist walking over to adjust the necklace around your neck, his fingers brushing against your skin as he whispers, "Don't forget who you belong to."

"I belong to you. Only to you all." You smile in the end.

You take a deep breath, turning away from the mirror to face them. The room is thick with unspoken words, the air heavy with their conflicting emotions. You know they're coming with you, that they'll be there every step of the way, but the tension is palpable. You move to each of them, a light touch, a reassuring smile, easing their worries with a confidence that you don't entirely feel.

"This is just another mission," you say softly, but your voice carries the weight of your conviction. "We've done this before. We'll do it again."

Their eyes meet yours, and though none of them are happy about the situation, they nod, each one silently promising to protect you, to keep you safe, no matter what it takes.

As you gather your things and head for the door, they fall in line behind you, a powerful force, united by their love for you and their determination to keep you out of harm's way. Tonight, the club will be your stage, and together, you'll play the parts you were born for.

After entering the car, your chuckle catch their attention, Jaehyun raises a brow at you in passenger seat, moving the steering wheel as he wants.

"if you all are really jealous." A mischievousness hinting in your eyes, "I'm ready for the punishment after we return."

"you are really our dirty little agent."

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn @meowmeeps @vtyb23 @haechansbbg @corneliarstreet [open!]

[rubybby22]

I need Red Bull domination back

I desperately need max and checo to lock in when they come back because I cannot look at mclaren at the top of the standings anymore

[rubybby22]

Let's be clear - Lando is never touching Max. At 25, Max already had 35 wins (correct me if I'm wrong). Lando is turning 25 this year and only has 2 wins.

Max is 3rd for the most F1 wins in history (61), behind legends like Lewis (105) and Schumacher (91)

Max has won the WDC 3x. He won it for the first time in 2021 at age 24, the 4th youngest in history (same age as Alonso, only separated by 16 days). Max is looking at winning it for the 4th time, but of course, things could change.

Max still holds the record for the youngest F1 race winner in history, winning the Spanish GP at 18 years old.

I'm tired of seeing Lando fans saying Max is "washed" and "done" when the RB20 is shit. The fact that Max has been able to stay within the top 10 positions even though the RB20 has so many issues just proves why Max is considered one of the best F1 drivers in history. Lando has yet to do that.

Max would be winning more races if he had a good car like Lando did. However, Lando wouldn't be producing the results Max has in the RB20. And that's the difference between them.

[rubybby22]

reblog if your inbox is always open for new members of the fandom who may be a little shy or intimidated. doesn’t matter whether or not you’re a “popular blog”; everyone here is equal and if you’re reading this as a new person/someone considering entering the fandom, we will not turn you away!!!! talk to us!! make friends!! i more than understand being shy but trust me this fandom is chill come join us in this hellhole

[rubybby22]

Alex Albon vintage wallpaper (a little blurry but that's the aesthetic)

Original photo from Williams racing official website

And if the photo quality is not good on tumblr just send a priv message and I'll share you the link to the photo on google drive where the picture quality will be better so you can download from there.

Also would appreciate some support on my pinterest acc @/shawtyobsessedwithf1 I'll be posting these wallpapers there as well.

-🪩

[rubybby22]

I love you @hereforussell 🥹🫶

Somebody please request or send inspiration for an f1 wallpaper pls😔🙏

[rubybby22]

Here you go! @hereforussell hope you'll like and use it! (If you do, send me a ss it'd make me feel good <3)

George Russell wallpaper🎀

Photo credits to Mercedes amg petronas f1 team official website. I only edited it.

And if the photo quality is not good on tumblr just send a priv message and I'll share you the link to the photo on google drive where the picture quality will be better so you can download from there.

Also would appreciate some support on my pinterest acc @/shawtyobsessedwithf1 I'll be posting these wallpapers there as well.

-🪩

Somebody please request or send inspiration for an f1 wallpaper pls😔🙏

[rubybby22]

guilty as sin masterlist

charles leclerc x sainz!reader

I. i love him, it's ruining my life

II. but daddy, i love him

III. i can do it with a broken heart

IV. imgonnagetyouback

V. fresh out the slammer [coming soon]

VI. who's afraid of little old me? [coming soon]

all is fair in love and poetry - aston martini xx

[rubybby22]

Somebody please request or send inspiration for an f1 wallpaper pls😔🙏

[rubybby22]

Carlos Sainz Lockscreen Wallpaper

All the original photos are from Carlos Sainz official website

Hope y'all like it, it's a spin off of another wallpaper I posted here but i like this one more bcoz the photos in this go together. And this has better dimensions as well.

-🪩

[rubybby22]

Carlos Sainz wallpaper🏎

Photo credits to Carlos Sainz official website. I just edited it to fit the dimensions of my phone screen.

-🎀

[rubybby22]

Stretch it Out | P.SH

instructor!sunghoon x ballerina!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, mirror sex, pet names (sweatheart, good girl), bad ballet references bc idk what i'm talking about, slight mention of self doubt, not proof read, anything else lmk! wc: 7.4k REQ: ballet intructor!sunghoon helping ballerina!reader stretch and you know where the rest leads to 😼 a/n: hi! i took this request and shuffled it around to make it this! hope this is okay anonnie and i am also so sorry for the late posting of it! i've been working on so much lately and with my little break i didn't do much writing. as always, comments, reblogs, and likes are all welcome!

Applause echoes through the spacious studio as one of your fellow dancers finishes receiving her critique from Mrs. Yang. Her routine was strong, though it seems she needs to work on her turnout - something you hadn't noticed. Perhaps it’s because your nerves are clouding your perception; after all, it will be your turn once she's finished.

The Annual Exhibition is less than two months away, and this will be your first time presenting your completed routine for approval in front of an audience - especially Mrs. Yang, who is more than just an instructor to you; she’s your role model, the person you’ve looked up to throughout your entire ballet journey.

Throughout your high school years, you dedicated your evenings and weekends to ballet school, working tirelessly just for the chance to apply to the National University of Arts and audition in front of Mrs. Yang. For months leading up to this moment, you poured everything into perfecting your pliés and pirouettes. Blisters marred your feet, and exhaustion settled deep in your bones, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was proving yourself worthy.

“Y/N, you’re up,” Mrs. Yang’s voice echoes through the studio like a haunting ghost. 

Following her words, you get up and shake off any nerves you have, all too aware of the impact performing badly will have; she could cut you from the exhibition or tell you to scrap the routine entirely, and both of those are not an option for you.

Now, as you step forward to take your place at the centre of the studio, the weight of the moment presses down on you. Every muscle is tense with anticipation, and your heart races as you prepare to dance.

The music begins, and you launch into your routine. At first, the nerves are overwhelming - each movement feels too stiff, too calculated. But as you glide into an arabesque and sweep through a series of pirouettes, something shifts. The familiar rhythm of the dance takes over, and your body begins to move almost on its own, flowing through each step with a grace you didn't know you possessed.

You’re hyper-aware of Mrs. Yang’s presence, of her eyes following your every move, but instead of faltering, you find yourself sinking deeper into the performance. Each développé stretches to its fullest extent, each sauté feels lighter than air. Your breathing steadies and the tension in your muscles transforms into power and control.

As you close the final sequence with a grand jeté, landing with a precise yet delicate touch, you can feel the room holding its breath. You finish in a graceful reverence, chest heaving but mind calm. In this moment, all the hours of hard work, the pain, and the sacrifices feel worth it. You've given everything you have.

But as you glance at Mrs. Yang, it doesn’t look like she’s as satisfied with your performance as you are. Her face is stoic, unreadable, but you’ve been in her class long enough to decipher even the subtlest of her expressions. The slight raise of her right eyebrow sends a wave of dread crashing through you. That’s never a good sign. Her eyes cling to you with the intensity of an unwanted gaze, leaving an uncomfortable knot twisting in your stomach.

She remains quiet for a few minutes, the silence stretching unbearably as though she’s gathering her words. When she finally speaks, her tone is clipped, measured. “It’s good, modern, and meets the criteria.”

You brace yourself, knowing that a ‘but’ is coming.

“But,” she continues, and you wince slightly, “you are not sharp enough. I mean seriously, Y/N, how many times do I need to pull you up for this? Do you not want to improve?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You don’t want to disappoint her. You gave everything you had in that performance, even though it was just a run-through. But it’s clear that it wasn’t enough.

You bow your head, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Yang’s irritation sharpens. “Then for the love of God, can you listen to me this time?” She stands up, her movements precise and deliberate as she walks over to you. Her voice is firm, tinged with exasperation. “This exhibition is crucial to your future career. It’s what sets you apart from the others, and yet you seem to lack such basic skills. Even the first years are forming lines better than you.”

Her words slice through you, each one a reminder of the standards you’ve failed to meet. The sting of her tone is almost unbearable, but you know deep down that it comes from a place of faith. She nitpicks because she sees potential in you, potential she wants to help you realise. Each six-month review she’s had with you, she’s made it clear that she believes you can make it far in this world.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Yang,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Apologise to yourself, not to me.”

A chorus of snickers drifts from the edge of the room. You glance over to see a group of girls, giggling and holding in laughter, their eyes full of condescension. The sound pierces through your already fragile self-belief, making you shrink into yourself, every snicker chipping away at whatever confidence you had left. Doubt begins to creep in, gnawing at the edges of your resolve. You start questioning whether you’re truly cut out for this, whether all the sacrifices you’ve made have been for nothing.

Before you can spiral too deeply into your own thoughts, Mrs. Yang’s fingers press firmly against your cheek, gently but insistently turning your face to meet hers. “You can’t do this on your own, so I’m assigning you a coach.”

“But you are my coach,” you reply, your voice tinged with confusion.

“Yes, but I don’t have time to give you hours of one-on-one training,” she says, rolling her eyes as if that statement should be obvious. She strides back to her seat, preparing to evaluate the next girl in line. “I have someone in mind. They’re very fluid and pointed in their gestures. They should whip you into shape. I’ll book you an out-of-hours studio for the foreseeable.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. You stand there, rooted to the spot, unable to fully process what she’s just said. Sure, she’ll still be your instructor during scheduled lessons, but this means that on top of your gruelling 12-hour days, your endless rehearsals, and the constant pressure to perfect every move, you’ll now have to spend extra time with a new coach.

It’s overwhelming. The thought of adding yet another layer of intensity to your already packed schedule makes your head spin. Your body, already pushed to its limits, protests at the idea of even more hours in the studio. Your heart sinks as the reality of the situation sets in. How will you manage it all? How will you balance the expectations of not one but two demanding mentors?

You want to succeed, to rise to the challenge, but a part of you is terrified that you’ll crumble under the weight of it all. The path ahead, already steep and treacherous, has just become even more daunting.

As Mrs. Yang calls out the name of the next dancer, you force yourself to step aside, the familiar sting of exhaustion settling into your bones. 

You can only hope that this new coach makes it worth your while.

_____

The long day of classes has left you drained, every muscle aching with the residue of endless rehearsals and critiques. The last thing you want to do is spend more time in the studio, yet here you are, trudging down the empty hallways of the performance centre with your gym bag slung over your shoulder. The familiar scent of rosin and sweat lingers in the air, and you can't help but feel a pang of dread at the thought of more practice. Your mind buzzes with the memory of Mrs. Yang’s words earlier this week, her disappointment, and the pressure of living up to expectations weighing heavily on your shoulders.

As you push open the door to the studio, your eyes fall on an unfamiliar figure - a boy standing with his back to you. He’s tall, strikingly so, with broad shoulders that taper down into a lean, athletic frame. His dark hair is tousled, falling just above the nape of his neck, and he’s dressed in loose joggers and a fitted white tank top that highlights the sinewy lines of his muscles.

You hesitate in the doorway, momentarily taken aback by his presence. The studio had been booked for you, and the last thing you want is a confrontation with a stranger. You clear your throat softly, hoping to catch his attention. “Um, hello?” you say timidly, your voice barely above a whisper. You hope that a gentle approach will encourage him to leave without any fuss.

The boy whips around at the sound of your voice, and your breath catches in your throat. His face is nothing short of breathtaking; sharp, elegant features softened by a small, almost shy smile. His eyes, a deep, captivating brown, seem to sparkle with quiet intensity as he takes in your appearance. For a moment, you’re struck by how impossibly beautiful he is, like a sculptor’s masterpiece brought to life. He seems too perfect, too unreal, and you feel a strange flutter in your chest as you meet his gaze.

“Hi,” he says, his voice smooth and warm, like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. He’s still studying you, and you can’t help but take the opportunity to do the same, noting every detail of his flawless face - the way his lips curve slightly upwards, the sharpness of his jawline, the softness of his eyes.

You blink, trying to regain your composure. “I don’t mean to be rude,” you start, hoping to keep your tone polite, “but my teacher booked me this room for a few hours.”

He raises an eyebrow, his small smile never fading. “Four hours to be exact, yeah. She also booked you…me.” The confusion must be evident on your face because he adds, “I’m your coach, Sunghoon.”

“You?” The word slips out before you can stop it, and you instantly regret how incredulous you sound. The last thing you want is to offend him, but the shock of the situation has thrown you off balance.

“Yeah, me. Why?” His tone is still light, but there’s a hint of defensiveness in his voice, and that sends you into a mild panic. You quickly shake your head, trying to salvage the situation.

“No, no, I’m not trying to say anything negative,” you stammer, holding up your hands as if to ward off any misunderstanding. “It’s just… I’ve never seen you around the performance centre, let alone the ballet corridor.”

He nods, seeming to understand your confusion. “That’s because you’ll find me in the sports centre.”

You take a moment to size him up, your mind racing as you try to figure out what sport he could possibly play. He’s too lean to be a rugby player, his legs too slender to be a footballer, but he’s tall enough to be a basketball player. You consider the possibility of him being a rower or maybe a gymnast, but nothing quite fits. He’s a mystery, one that piques your curiosity.

As if reading your thoughts, he interrupts your internal questioning. “I’m a figure skater.”

The revelation surprises you, and you can’t help but blurt out, “Oh.” You pause, trying to piece together why a figure skater would be chosen to coach you in ballet. Placing your bag to the side of the room, you turn to him again. “So why are you coaching me?”

“Why can’t I?” he counters, his tone holding a subtle challenge that makes you feel slightly defensive. “Mrs. Yang said you’re having trouble looking elegant and punctuated in your movements. Skaters have the same problem.”

You nod slowly, but a part of you is still sceptical. “But you guys have ice and skates. I have a wooden floor and ballet pumps.”

A laugh escapes his lips before he quickly covers his mouth, a look of apology flashing across his face. “Sorry, it’s just…what does that have to do with anything?”

You frown, still not entirely convinced. “You guys have blades to move you. I have to coordinate my legs to move me. You guys can think about fluidity and movement.”

He crosses his arms, his expression becoming more serious as he regards you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. “Do you know how ridiculous you sound? We have to balance on a tiny blade and have every chance to slip or crash from a jump.”

His words hang in the air, and you suddenly feel a bit foolish for your assumptions. Of course, figure skating requires immense skill and precision - maybe even more so than ballet, given the added challenge of balancing on ice. 

“Okay, fair point,” you admit, feeling a bit sheepish. You also hate it when people underestimate the skill and energy it takes to perform ballet, and yet here you are doing it to him about his own sport. 

He steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and you find yourself holding your breath under his gaze. “I know you were expecting some ballet genius to help you but our arts are similar. It’s about control, balance, and grace,” he explains. “On the ice, every movement needs to be both powerful and delicate. The same applies to ballet. You need to find that balance between strength and elegance. That’s where I come in.”

You nod slowly, beginning to understand his perspective. The way he speaks, the passion in his voice, makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this might actually work. “And you think you can teach me that?”

“I know I can,” he says confidently, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “If you’re willing to put in the effort, that is.”

There’s a challenge in his words, one that you can’t resist rising to. You’ve always prided yourself on your work ethic, and you’re not about to let anyone doubt your dedication.

“I am,” you reply firmly, meeting his gaze with determination.

Sunghoon starts the session by having you go through your routine. His eyes are sharp, missing nothing as he watches you move across the floor. You’re acutely aware of his presence, the way his gaze seems to weigh on your every step, every turn, every jump. It’s unnerving at first, but you push through the discomfort, focusing on executing each movement with precision.

When you finish, he steps forward, nodding thoughtfully. “You’re good,” he says, and the praise sends a warm flush of satisfaction through you and a blush to your cheeks. “But you’re too tense. You’re overthinking every move, and it shows. Ballet is as much about feeling as it is about technique. You need to let go a little.”

You frown slightly, not entirely sure how to do that. “Let go?”

“Yeah,” he says, moving to stand beside you. “Your muscles are too tight, your movements too calculated. It’s like you’re afraid of making a mistake, so you’re holding back.”

You look down at the floor, his words hitting a little too close to home. You’ve always been afraid of making mistakes, always felt the pressure to be perfect. It’s something that’s been drilled into you since you first started dancing, and it’s hard to shake.

He must sense your hesitation because he steps closer, his voice softening. “Hey,” he says gently, and you look up to find his eyes full of understanding. “I get it. But if you keep holding back, you’re never going to reach your full potential.”

There’s something in his voice that makes you want to trust him, something that makes you feel like maybe he understands you in a way that others don’t. You nod slowly, taking a deep breath as you try to let go of the tension in your body.

“Good,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips. “Now, let’s try something different.”

_____

For two hours straight, you push your body to its limits, executing each movement with precision and determination. Sunghoon’s voice fills the studio, giving you sharp, pointed instructions that you follow without question. But as the minutes tick by, the atmosphere begins to shift. The calm, encouraging demeanour he started with fades, replaced with a growing tension that seems to coil around the two of you, tightening with each correction he makes.

“Extend more,” he snaps as you move through a series of arabesques. His tone is snappier now, the softness from before replaced with something harsher. “You’re still too stiff.”

You grit your teeth, focusing on stretching every muscle to its fullest, making sure each line is as precise as possible. But no matter how much you try, his dissatisfaction only seems to grow.

“Again,” he commands, his voice laced with frustration. You try to push your discontent down, channelling it into your movements, but the more you try, the more his critiques seem to cut through you.

“You’re losing focus. How are you going to perform on stage if you can’t even manage this in practice?”

The sting of his criticism hits you deep, and you can feel your confidence waver. Are you really that bad? You’re hitting the moves correctly, focusing intently on your lines - the very aspect of the performance Mrs. Yang had criticised you for. You’re doing everything he’s asking, so why is he still so frustrated? Shouldn’t he be pleased that his coaching is starting to take effect?

You execute a pirouette, landing with precision, but the instant your foot touches the ground, Sunghoon’s voice cuts through the air. “No,” he says sharply, shaking his head. “You’re not following through. Where’s the energy? The intention?”

“I’m trying!” The words slip out before you can stop them, frustration bubbling over. Your chest heaves with exertion, and you meet his eyes, desperate for some sign that he understands how hard you’re working, how much you’re giving.

But his expression remains hard, unreadable, and that only fuels the growing tension between you. “Trying isn’t enough,” he snaps back, stepping closer, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You need to do more than just hit the moves. You have to feel them. Right now, you’re just going through the motions. There’s no passion, no fire.”

His words cut deep, and you feel a flare of anger mixed with hurt. “I’m doing exactly what you asked,” you retort, unable to keep the edge out of your voice. “I’m focusing on the lines, on the form. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes,” he says, his frustration palpable, “but you’re missing the point. It’s not just about form; it’s about bringing the movements to life. Right now, you’re nothing more than a marionette, moving because you’re being told to, not because you’re actually feeling the dance.”

The comparison stings and you can feel yourself reaching boiling point. You’ve been working so hard, pushing yourself beyond what you thought you were capable of, and yet here you are, being told that it’s still not enough. A part of you wants to shout at him, to tell him that he doesn’t understand how hard this is, how much pressure you’re under. But instead, you swallow the words, letting the irritation simmer beneath the surface.

Sunghoon’s gaze softens, just a fraction, but it’s enough to make you feel the weight of his expectations even more acutely. “I know you can do better. Mrs. Yang told me you’re one of her best students,” he says, his voice gentler now with the content, though no less intense. “That’s why I’m pushing you. I need you to push yourself. You’ve got so much potential, but something’s holding you back. What is it?”

His question hangs in the air, heavy and probing. For a moment, you’re at a loss for words. Why are you holding back? Is it the fear of failing? Fear that you’ll never be good enough? Or maybe, deep down, you just don’t believe in yourself.

The silence between you stretches, thick with hostility. Sunghoon steps closer, his presence almost overwhelming, the heat radiating off him nearly suffocating. You can feel the intensity of his gaze, a challenge flickering in his eyes, daring you to shatter whatever invisible barrier is restraining you.

He’s so close now that you can see the tight set of his jaw, the way his eyes blaze with a fire that sends a shiver down your spine. The frustration is palpable, a tangible force crackling in the air, making it feel electric, charged with something both exhilarating and frightening.

With a firm but gentle touch, Sunghoon places his hands on your shoulders, turning you to face the mirror. He steps in behind you, closing the space between your bodies. “Look at yourself,” he says, his voice low and resonant. “See how tense you are?” His large hands slide down from your shoulders, tracing the line of your body. “Every muscle is knotted up. You can’t perform at your best unless you loosen up. Stop overthinking. Just…let go.”

Your eyes meet his in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, and in that instant, the world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you, close enough to feel each other’s breath. Then, almost instinctively, his fingers press into your sides, firm and commanding, gliding up your waist and torso with deliberate slowness. The sensation sends a wave of heat through your body, and your breath catches as he lifts your arms, stretching your upper half with a fluid motion that leaves you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

“Feel this,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the nape of your neck, sending another quake over your body. He holds your wrists above your head with one hand, the other pressing into your lower back, making you hyper-aware of the heat emanating from him. “See how good that feels?”

Using his knuckles, he circles the bottom of your spine, dissolving any knots and doubts from it. You resist the urge to moan but your eyes roll to the back of your head as you push your hips into him, aching for more of his magical touch. Out of all the massages you have ever had, this tiny glimmer of one beats them all.

His breath spreads over your skin, and his fingers tighten slightly around your wrists as he holds you in place. Once you bring your eyes forward, he locks in with yours in the mirror. His piercing stare is intense and your heart quickens, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. 

“You like that?” Sunghoon asks, the smirk plastered on his face as he feels you grinding onto his growing boner. He can see you wanting to let go in the reflection of your eyes as well as the neediness in your breaths, giving him all the consent he needs to take this further.

As he releases your wrists, his hand trails down your shoulders and back to meet the other. The heat of his touch seeps through the fabric of your top, firm yet tender. His fingers glide along your spine, coaxing your body to arch into the movement, a soft sigh escaping your lips. His touch is skilled, knowing exactly where to press and where to ease, melting away the tension in your muscles, leaving you pliant under his hands.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers, the edge in his voice betraying his awareness of the effect he’s having on you. The connection is almost too intense to bear. But you can’t look away, drawn to the magnetic pull between you. He slides his hands over your sides and across your lower abdomen, fingers digging slightly into your muscles, the pressure both soothing and intoxicating as he massages your belly and hips.

You instinctively begin to lower your arms, the proximity making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. But his grip tightens around your waist in warning. “No, keep your arms up, sweetheart,” he says, his tone demanding, the instructor in him resurfacing.

Resting his hand flatly on your stomach, his fingers spread as he pulls you flush against him, your back meeting the solid expanse of his chest. The contact makes you acutely aware of every point where your bodies touch, your heart hammering in your chest as your breath catches. His hands linger at the waistband of your leggings, before slowly, his hands dip down, fingers brushing against your skin, exploring with deliberate, teasing slowness. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you, your skin tingling under his touch.

His hands move lower, the anticipation building with every inch he covers. You can feel your muscles trembling, your arms still stretched above your head as he asked, but the effort to maintain the position becomes increasingly difficult with every passing second.

His fingers find your folds, slipping between them with an agonising slowness that leaves you gasping. The sensation is overwhelming, your body instinctively moving with his fingers, but he’s quick to remind you of his control. “Keep your arms up, be a good girl and listen,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a quiet authority that leaves no room for disobedience.

The smirk on his face is unmistakable as he watches you struggle to comply, the tension between following his instructions and giving in to the intoxicating pull of his touch almost unbearable. His fingers continue their slow exploration, teasing and tormenting you with a skill that leaves you trembling, your resolve weakening with every passing moment.

Impulse begs you to let your arms fall, to collapse into his embrace, but his gaze holds you in place, that smirk still playing on his lips as he watches you battle with your own desires. The contrast between his command and the sheer pleasure he’s coaxing from your body is dizzying, leaving you on the edge of surrender.

Yet, despite the intense need coursing through you, you force yourself to keep your arms raised, stretching above your head, the effort only adding to the thrill coursing through your veins. His fingers move with deliberate intent now, pressing deeper, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body that make it almost impossible to think, to breathe.

Sunghoon’s fingers expertly play with your pussy, two of them circling your sensitive nub with a maddening precision that leaves you dizzy. “Do you feel how exhausted your arms are?” he asks, his voice tinged with a hint of smugness, as though expecting an answer despite your obvious distraction.

Nodding, you squeeze your eyes shut so tightly that white spots dance behind your lids, a kaleidoscope of fleeting lights against the darkness. The burn in your arms is a sharp contrast to the way your hips instinctively move, undulating in perfect sync with his skilled fingers. It's a delicious torment—the strain in your muscles somehow amplifies the pleasure coiling low in your belly, turning every sensation sharper, more intense.

Suddenly, his lips are on your neck, a gentle press of heat that sends a shiver cascading down your spine, threatening to unravel you completely. The warmth of his mouth on your skin is your undoing, and before you can stop yourself, your arms give way. You collapse forward, hands scrambling to find purchase, seeking him instinctively as if he's the only thing keeping you grounded. Your fingers dig into his arms, nails biting into his skin as you cling to him, desperate for stability in the storm he's unleashed within you.

"See how loose you feel?" His voice is a murmur against your neck, each word a hot, teasing caress. "How your body wants to move on its own, to give in? That’s how your performance should be."

As if to punctuate his point, his fingers slide inside you, the sudden, intimate invasion tearing a sharp gasp from your lips. Your hips buck against his hand, craving more, driven by the need he’s ignited in you. His other arm tightens around your waist, holding you close, anchoring you to him as his fingers continue their relentless rhythm, each stroke designed to push you further, closer to the edge.

The atmosphere around you thickens, every breath heavy with the electric tension between you. The heat radiating from his body seeps into yours, an overwhelming presence that consumes you, making it impossible to think of anything but the here and now. The scent of him - musky, intoxicating - fills your senses, making you feel lightheaded, dizzy with desire. You can feel the hardness of his arousal pressing insistently against your lower back, a solid reminder of his own need, adding fuel to the fire already burning within you.

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, more urgently, more demanding. "Even your pussy is so tight," he murmurs, his tone more observation than criticism. "Do I need to open this up too?"

Your laboured breathing is your only response, mingling with the slick, rhythmic sounds of his hand moving inside you. The coil of pleasure in your core tightens with every thrust, winding tighter and tighter, the pressure building until you feel like you might shatter from the intensity of it.

Your hands clutch at his arm, desperate, seeking something solid to hold onto as your legs threaten to buckle beneath you. His fingers curl inside you, finding that perfect spot that sends your vision spinning, a raw, needy moan escaping your lips. The feeling of his hard length pressing against you, coupled with the masterful way his fingers work you, has your entire body humming with sensation, alive with the need to surrender to the pleasure he’s offering.

Sunghoon’s mouth returns to your neck, lips brushing over your sensitive skin, his teeth grazing lightly as he sucks, sending another jolt of arousal through you. "That’s it," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a low, rough command that vibrates through you. "Let go. Feel it. This is how you should be."

His words wrap around you like a spell, breaking down the last of your restraint. Your body moves with his, falling into the rhythm he’s set, lost in the heat and desire pulsing between you. Every stroke, every touch, draws you deeper into the abyss of pleasure, until all you can do is let go and let him guide you.

“Fuck, Sunghoon,” you manage to mewl, your voice trembling, breathless, as you throw your head back, letting it rest against his chest.

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, the sound reverberating through you, adding to the fire already blazing in your veins. His lips trail up to your ear, his tongue flicking against your earlobe, a playful, teasing nip that sends another shiver racing down your spine. “That’s it,” he whispers, his voice thick with a mix of amusement and desire. His fingers curl inside you again, hitting that spot that makes your entire body jerk in his hold, another gasp torn from your throat. “You like this, don’t you? You’re such a perfect student, so eager to please.”

All you can do is nod, biting down on your lip to stifle the moans threatening to spill over. He hums appreciatively, his hot breath brushing against your ear, the sensation sending another ripple of pleasure through you. “Good,” he purrs, his voice low and commanding, like the instructor he is. “You’re a quick learner when you want to be. You respond so well to guidance.”

Without warning, his hand shifts, thumb finding your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips jerk involuntarily. Your vision blurs, stars dancing before your eyes as the pleasure crashes over you in waves, each one pulling you deeper into the sensation. His fingers move with expert precision, relentless in their pursuit of your release, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

In the mirror before you, Sunghoon’s eyes lock onto you, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he relishes in watching the pleasure contort your face. "You’re moving perfectly, not overthinking, just feeling how you should," he murmurs, almost to himself, pride evident in his voice. 

Just as you feel yourself teetering on the brink, he slows his movements, dragging out your pleasure, keeping you suspended on the edge. You whimper with need, the desperation in your voice only making him grin wider. His lips brush against your ear, his voice a dark, seductive whisper that sends your brain into orbit. "You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you? Be a good dancer and let go, show me how well you can perform."

It’s not a question; it’s a command. And with one final, skilled stroke, he pushes you over the edge, sending you spiralling into a climax that tears through you, leaving every atom in your body shaking with intensity and your muscles instantly tensing, just to relax once again.

As the tremors subside, you feel his hands shift, fingers hooking into the waistband of your leggings. “We’re just getting started,” he murmurs, a hint of something dark and promising in his voice. Slowly, he pulls them down, the fabric dragging against your skin, heightening your sensitivity. “You’re still tight,” he observes, voice low, almost thoughtful. “We need to work on that.”

He positions himself behind you, the heat of his body a stark contrast to the cool air against your bare skin. Pushing his joggers and boxers down to his thighs, he lets his hard cock spring free, your body shielding it from the mirror in front of you, but as he drags it along your folds, you get a sense of the thick, long shaft he is about to impale you with.

His hand moves to your hips, guiding you, adjusting your stance, and your hands find home on the mirror in front of you, fingers splaying across the cool glass. “Arch your back,” he instructs, voice firm yet gentle, as if this were just another rehearsal. “Relax into it…let me in.”

With a measured, almost calculated precision, he enters you, the sensation of him filling you completely making you gasp. In the mirror, your reflection catches your eye, your mouth falling open as you watch him disappear inside you. “Oh god,” you moan, the image of your bodies coming together, the way he stretches you, only intensifying the sensation. “Sunghoon…”

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you, pulling you deeper into the moment. “Look at yourself,” he commands softly, his breath hot against your ear. “See how your body opens up when you let go? When you stop fighting and just let the movement happen? That’s how you get perfect lines.”

His pace is slow at first, methodical, every thrust a deliberate stroke meant to coax your body into submission. Your eyes lock onto your reflection, the sight of his hips moving against yours, the way your skin flushes with arousal, captivating. “Fuck, your pussy is sensational,” he breathes, a hint of strain in his voice as he pulls back slightly, only to push deeper. “Almost as good as your allegro.”

You let out a broken moan, your gaze flicking between his intense expression in the mirror and the way his muscles are contracting in his arms as he firms his grip on your waist, focusing on pounding into you with fervour. “Sunghoon… more… please…”

Each movement of his hips is like a masterclass, each squeeze from his hands and twitch of his cock only making your body ache for more. “Don’t hold back,” he whispers, his grip on your hips tightening, pulling you closer. “Let your body respond to mine.”

Your eyes widen as he leans forward slightly, the angle allowing you to see more of him in the mirror, his jaw tightening with every thrust. “Feels so good,” you manage to gasp out, your voice breathy, desperate as you push back against him, trying to take him deeper. “Please, don’t stop…”

The mirror reflects the sheen of sweat forming on your skin, the way your body arches into his touch, how every line of your form matches the rhythm he’s set. Your body moves with his, every thrust pushing you closer to that edge again, every word sinking deeper into your mind. His hand slides down your stomach, fingers finding your clit once more, adding that extra layer of stimulation that has your legs shaking. “That’s it,” he coaxes, voice rich with approval. “Give in to it. Let your body move the way it wants to…the way it needs to.”

“Sunghoon… oh, god… I’m gonna-” Your words cut off in a whimper as his pace quickens, the pace he sets becoming more intense, more demanding, each thrust designed to unravel you, to push you past your limits.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs into your neck, his gaze flickering up to meet yours in the mirror, watching how your breath fogs up the glass in front of you and your fingers claw down the flat surface in an attempt to grip onto something tangible. The sight of you coming undone in the reflection only seems to spur him on, his hips snapping against yours with renewed vigour.

“Sunghoon, I-” you try to speak, but the words dissolve into a moan as he thrusts deeper, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur and stars dance before your eyes, the bell of his cock kissing the sensitive spot inside your walls.

“Show me,” he commands, his voice like a conductor’s baton, directing the crescendo. “Show me how beautifully you can fall apart.” 

Sunghoon’s arm wraps securely around your waist, pulling your trembling body back against his chest. The new angle allows him to thrust even deeper, the motion sending shockwaves of pleasure through you, each stroke of his cock searing itself into your memory. You feel completely filled by him, the sensation overwhelming as your reflection quakes, your body obeying every demand he silently makes. Your muscles clench around him, and as your head falls back against his shoulder, you cry out his name.

The mirror captures every detail - the flush of your skin, the arch of your back, the way your mouth opens in a silent scream as another intense climax rips through you. This one is even more powerful than the last, leaving you utterly undone, your body shaking in his arms as he holds you steady.

As the waves of pleasure begin to ebb, your eyes lock onto the mirror once more. You see yourself as Sunghoon sees you raw, vulnerable, but also strong, capable of surrendering and finding beauty in letting go. For a moment, all you can see is the perfect dancer he’s crafted, the one who’s learned to trust the rhythm and fall apart beautifully.

Chasing his own release, he begins to buck his hips in a fast, sharp manner, aware that two orgasms on your end could make you extra sensitive. Your pussy milks his cock as he cums deep inside of you, his nails scratching your hips and down your ass, as he moans out your name, chanting it like a hymn during confession. 

His chest heaves against your back and he kisses anywhere he can on your neck and shoulders to ground himself in the present, bringing himself down from his high.

As he slowly slides out of you, his arms never leave your body, keeping you close. He gently lowers you to the ground, sitting you down and holding you against him. Your body feels like jelly, completely spent, but his embrace is comforting. He presses soft kisses to the back of your head, his breath warm against your damp skin.

"You did so well, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice tender, full of pride.

You tilt your head back slightly, looking up at him with a small, exhausted smile. "I don’t think I’m supposed to be this relaxed when I perform at the exhibition," you manage to say, a breathless giggle escaping your lips.

Sunghoon chuckles along with you, the sound vibrating through your body where you're pressed against him. He shakes his head, brushing a few strands of hair away from your sweaty face. "No, you should have some feeling in your bones," he agrees, wiping the moisture from your brow with the back of his hand. "But do you see how, when you let yourself do what your body wanted, you felt a million times better?"

You nod, the memory of the intensity still fresh in your mind. "Yeah…I did. It felt different…freer."

"Exactly," he says, his eyes softening as he gazes at you. "That’s how ballet is supposed to be. You can’t bring emotions to an audience if you’re too busy concentrating on getting the next move right."

"But Mrs. Yang always talks about perfection," you counter, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "She says, ‘You need to be perfect to achieve perfection.’ She repeats it all the time."

Sunghoon sighs, a look of understanding crossing his features. "It’s the same for us," he admits, his tone tinged with a mix of disdain and resignation. "Every skate has to be better than the last, or else you’re a failure." His voice carries the weight of someone who’s heard those words too many times, who’s internalised them and yet knows there’s more to the story.

"But perfection isn’t something you learn from a textbook. It’s not something you can force." He pauses, looking down at you, his expression thoughtful. "You need to find your own colour, your own style. That’s where true perfection lies - when it comes from within, not from trying to meet someone else’s standards."

You hold his gaze, the truth in his words sinking in. For years you have tried to live up to Mrs. Yang’s expectation that you lost your real love for the art. Or maybe, not lost the love, but rather buried it under the weight of being perfect. 

"But…what if I never find it? My colour."

Sunghoon’s lips curve into a small smile, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin. "To be honest, you’re better than most. You’ve got the skill, the technique, but you’re holding yourself back because you’re so focused on being perfect." His eyes bore into yours, sincere and encouraging. "You need to let your posture breathe, stop worrying about being flawless, and just…dance. That’s what’s holding you back - then you’ll find it."

His words resonate deeply within you, stirring something that’s been buried under layers of self-doubt and external expectations. "So I just need to let go?"

"Exactly," he says, his voice firm but gentle. "Let go, trust yourself, and let your body move the way it’s meant to. Just like we did there."

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight on your shoulders lift just a bit. "I’ll try," you whisper, the words carrying more determination than you thought possible.

Sunghoon smiles, a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart flutter. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture so tender it nearly makes you melt. "That’s all anyone can ask for," he murmurs, his voice reassuring.

You nod, feeling a newfound resolve build within you. As you sink deeper into his embrace, the world around you seems to blur, leaving behind the certainty that you’re ready to let go, to embrace the dancer you’ve always been meant to be.

After a moment of quiet, Sunghoon pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on your hips, grounding you. "How about we get you cleaned up, and then we run through it again?" he suggests, his tone light yet purposeful.

You smile, the idea of starting fresh with this new perspective sparking a sense of excitement in you. "Yeah," you agree, your voice steady. As Sunghoon helps you to your feet and fixes your outfit for you, you feel your heart burst with determination and adoration, both for ballet and the man in front of you.  

You’re going to have to thank Mrs. Yang for this by giving the most passionate performance at the exhibition.

Maybe Sunghoon can keep coaching you until then. You do need to work on your flexibility after all…

---

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[rubybby22]

Sorry I had to...

See what I mean?