#jeon wonwoo fluff
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nonranghaes · 2 days ago
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by the end of the day, there's a few pictures posted on your social media. they're all of wonwoo (not that he's surprised, because it's his day) from throughout the years the two of you have been dating. some silly, some from the moments where you were admiring him and snapped a picture to hold onto that moment a little longer, some from the times when the two of you have been with friends (both his and your own)... but all centering him.
except for the last one. it's from this year. he's got a little birthday cone hat clumsily placed on his head, and he's holding your cat (your seventeen year old cat, actually, who decided she loved him after the first few times he came around because he always came with treats). she's got a little party hat, too, because it's also her birthday. he'd laughed the first time you told him: of course you'd find someone who shares a birthday with your cat. he didn't tell you he'd whispered to her once a gentle thank you for being there during so much of your life, and that he hopes to be there for the rest of hers and yours. the birthday cake in the picture is at a safe enough distance with its lit candles, and the picture had been taken in a quick enough moment that he could set her down and not have to worry about any accidents happening.
but there's a softness in the way you capture these moments. in your caption, too, as you ramble on about how much you love and adore him and how sometimes it feels like he was always meant to come into your life. you end it off with a sweet happy birthday, my love! (and also wonwoo) just to be silly, and it makes him smile.
you come back into the room from doing your nightly skincare routine (something he actually managed to get you into, actually) and curl up next to him. your cat is already curled up at the foot of the bed, and wonwoo's mindful of her as he turns over to pull you into his arms as he presses a tiny kiss right on the spot right in front of your ear.
"i love you," he says, and you can feel his smile against your skin when he presses another kiss in the same spot. "and her, too."
you know. but you say it back, to both him and your cat as she continues to snooze peacefully, so you'll never regret not saying it.
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buntanteen · 3 days ago
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svt fic recs list <3 - jeon wonwoo b'day edition - sfw & nsfw ver.
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summary: 4 sfw & 3 nsfw wonwoo x reader insert fics :)
contains: sfw section contains potential suggestive content, nsfw section contains 18+ content (mdni), majority is afab!reader
key: (a) = angst, (f) = fluff, (h) = humor, (sc) = suggestive content, (s) = smut, (smau) = social media au
✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩
✩ sfw section ✩
❥ bf!wonwoo x chronically online!reader (f, h) - @xinganhao ~ reader is me i am reader we are one. i need a lil chronically offline!partner like wonwoo here PLS PLSSS (also....🎵I GOTTA GO MY OWN WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY🎵🎤🎤🎤)
❥ wedding weekends with wonwoo (f) - @suhnshinehaos ~ OMFG THE FULL CIRCLE ENDING!!! THE FALLING FOR EACH OTHER!! AHH
❥ wonwoo bf texts (a, h, s) - @odxrilove ~ LMAO THE CHAN JEALOUSY IS SO REAL (bro look at me the way you look at him??!! PLS) i love how he just goes along with everything reader wants 😭😭
❥ bf!wonwoo thoughts (f, sc) - @boorines ~ oh i'm with you on him being subtly flirty that it'd drive you insane ARGHHHH also, ooop that ending thoooo?👀
✩ nsfw section ✩
❥ scrawled in sand (a, s) - @toruro ~ the ending.... :(
❥ Wonwoo as your boyfriend texts (f, sc) - @vernonverse ~ LET ME WIN ONE (1) GAME PLS 🙏...the whiplash to the sc was insane omfgjekfb
❥ Ghost Face (s) - @hoshifighting ~ HEHEHE >:) I ENJOYED THIS
bun note: HAPPPPPYYYYYY WONWOO DAYYYY!!! thank you for 2k followers??!?? and thank u to 1 year (tomorrow) of posting svt content on this account :3 i am so so so grateful to everyone on here <3
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cheolaholic · 3 months ago
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bound to you; jww
summary; With a subtle fire growing between two vastly different souls, are they doomed to surrender to a bond that binds them together? Or... are they exactly what each other need?
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abo universe • mafia au • arranged marriage • fluff, smut, angst • hurt-comfort
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pairing; jeon wonwoo x f!reader | wc; 22k | rating; 18+ explicit nsfw
contains; mafia boss! wonwoo, florist! reader, alpha! wonwoo, omega! reader, reader knows how to fight back/stand her ground even though she’s submissive, right hand man! woozi, beta! svt members (cheol, woozi, gyu, vernon & chan), mentions of JxW, wonwoo is unhinge but not too unhinged, woozi encouraging/supporting wonwoo to be more unhinged, wonwoo wears glasses, very subtle “where is my wife!?” trope, not really sure who fell first and who fell harder, unplanned pregnancy, the honeymoon scene is sweet AND nasty
mature/trigger warnings; dom! wonwoo, sub! reader, big dick! wonwoo, knotting, biting/marking kink, size kink, use of sex toys, g-spot stimulation, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you do the nasty), mating press, implied sex marathon when reader is in heat, somewhat of an aftercare, reader is extremely horny when in heat, wonwoo doesn’t mind bcs he’s just as horny and has really high stamina, tummy bulge, creampies, squirting, that one business proposal scene, drugs (heat inducers, heat/rut suppressants), forced drugging, weapons (guns, knives, needles etc), abduction, violence (it’s a mafia au so, yea), mentions of miscarriage, etc
petnames; his (Nonu, Alpha), hers (Doll, Babydoll)
a/n; RAHH, new fic !! hope yall enjoy this because i sure as hell stressed over this fic way more than i should’ve- was also sick as i tried to finish this out and get it out (by its very overdued deadline rip) big thanks to rae ( @nerdycheol) and supi ( @supi-wupi) for beta reading and sharing their thoughts on it hehe ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
✨ support me by becoming a patreon (enjoy exclusive perks & content) OR tip me on kofi !! 💜 if you are unable to do so, you can also show support by reblogging your favourite works of mine !!
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In this universe, there exists a city called Ashville.
A modern city that’s under the rule of an infamous Mafia family that’s been around for generations.
In this universe, each individual is born into one of three dynamics: Alpha, Beta, and Omega. These roles are usually found out before they become teenagers, typically around the ages ten to twelve. Not only do they dictate one’s instincts, but it also determines their place in the social hierarchy.
Alphas stood at the very top of the hierarchy, their presence commanding and unyielding. Known as protectors and leaders, their strength and resolve made them pillars of stability and order. They exude an air of confidence, their pheromones carrying an unmistakable weight that both enthralls and intimidates. An Alpha’s instinct could be a double-edged sword – their need for dominance paired with their sense of responsibility.
Betas occupy the middle grounds, acting as stabilizers so that the world doesn’t get thrown into a world of instinctual chaos. Neither driven by the dominating urges of an Alpha nor bound by the vulnerabilities of an Omega, they serve as the mediators. The voice of reason, if you will. Their neutrality is what makes them the glue that holds society together, but could also be the cause of its downfall if they were to commit treason.
Finally, the Omegas, whose roles are often misunderstood due to their vulnerabilities. They’re the heart of the societal order, their instincts centered on nurture, connection, and to a few, rebellion. They are similar to Alphas in terms of pheromones, but what set them apart would be that an unclaimed Omega’s pheromones could attract unwanted attention from unclaimed Alphas, drawing them in like moths to a flame.
Claimed Omegas would bear the bonding bite of their Alphas. But, in the event an Omega is without a mate, either by choice or tragic events; they are forced into prostitution. It is a sad reality and possible outcome to many. Hence, many Omegas forged paths of quiet defiance, proving that they too are strong without a mate.
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Click.
"Can you, please, get a bit closer?" The photographer asks, practically begging at this point.
Wonwoo heaves out a sigh while your shoulders slump, tired from having spent the entire morning posing for your wedding portrait. While it was true that you were somewhat excited to have finally found your mate, let’s just say of all the possible occupations you’ve come up with, a mafia boss was not on that list.
Hell, not even the Jeon Wonwoo was on your list.
The mob boss takes a step closer, placing both hands on your hips and the photographer beams at the sight. “Yes, yes! Just like that!” he exclaims, pulling out his camera as he continues to snap more portraits. Wonwoo feels your body tense up from the close proximity so he leans in close to your ear. “Relax, doll,” he whispers, “You’re tense and you look terrified. Nobody is going to believe that we’re ‘in love’ if you keep this up.”
Click.
“I-I’m sorry,” you squeaked, the grip you had on the bouquet of flowers tightening slightly, “ ‘M just nervous…” “Oh, I know you are, doll.” Wonwoo turns his head slightly, nuzzling his nose into your hair and you let out a quiet gasp, “I can smell it. Do I scare you that much, hmm? Having second thoughts because your mate is the infamous mob boss?” He lets out a low chuckle when you shake your head profusely, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “Keep your eyes on the camera, darling. Once this is over, you can go right back home.”
Click.
“Shouldn’t we make preparations for the ceremony?” you asked, “What about the cake? The venue? The–”
“Don’t stress your pretty head, doll,” Wonwoo says, giving your hips a light squeeze, “I’ve settled everything and your preferences have been taken into account, too. I’ll contact you for the cake tasting and venue checking.”
“And, it’s a wrap!” the photographer announces with a wide smile, “Thank you so much Mr and Mrs Jeon! I promise you won’t be disappointed with the results!”
You weren’t sure if the photographer was always this… enthusiastic with his clients. Or if he was holding himself back from pissing himself. ‘I’d be terrified too if the Jeons were my client…’
Not one soul didn’t know who the Jeons were. What started off as a small group of delinquents had eventually grown into one of the largest mobs to run Ashville. The man who started it all, Jeon Wonsoong, was a man who could send even the Devil running with its tail between its legs. While most mobsters were practically built on wealth, the Jeons’ were quite the opposite.
Jeon Wonsoong had built the mob of the Jeon family from scratch – from the literal blood, sweat and tears of his companions and oftentimes, those who had crossed him. The Jeons had their respect earned, not given on a silver platter. Many have mocked Wonsoong when he began building a name for the family – claiming that he was too ambitious, that he’d be better off as an underling.
They were the very same people he’s overthrown.
Just a mention of the Jeon family name was enough to drain anyone’s face of their colour.
Decades later, enter Jeon Wonwoo, the one and only beloved grandson of Jeon Wonsoong. Wonwoo already had the responsibilities of being the next mob boss ever since his mother’s pregnancy was announced. Wonwoo grew up watching how the “family business” worked, seeing his father fire bullets through heads after heads of rivals or anyone and anything that could be a threat to the family.
The poor boy was terrified at first but by the time his teenage years rolled around, he’s pretty much grown numb to the fear and squeamish feeling of seeing piles of bloodied dead bodies.
He’s watched the drug dealings, the smuggling – the most atrocious crimes or businesses known to man would be committed by the Jeons’, yet they would refuse to inflict any form of harm onto women and/or children for pleasure.
Wonwoo remembered bringing it up to his father when he was 16.
“Your grandpa is a family man, son. He’d never harm a child for the wrongdoings their parents have done – that’s why he takes them into the family and raises them to be his men.”
“What about crimes against women?”
“Crimes against women is unfortunately something that cannot be stopped, regardless whether or not the perpetrators are in a mob,” Wonsoong replies as he enters the room, one hand linked with his grandmother’s while the other held onto his walking stick, “We may be mob bosses, crime lords – whatever it is they call us, Wonwoo, but, causing harm to women and children for pleasure is a monstrosity I will not allow this organisation to ever commit. Your grandmother was assaulted for choosing me over some rich bastard – your uncles and I broke their arms, castrated them before making them kneel in front of her family to beg for forgiveness.”
“His heart is in the right place,” Wonwoo’s grandmother added on, “While being a mob boss or part of a mob gang is less than ideal for anyone, at least your grandfather shows some levels of decency as a human being.”
“So… in the scenario one of our members has assaulted, or caused harm to women or children in any way, what happens to them? Do they get their bones broken and then castrated?”
“That was back in the good old days, my dear grandson,” Wonsoong chuckled, “Now, they are battered and bruised, fingers cut, and castrated – before being shot thrice.”
Sure, it’s terrifying to have the entire nation’s economy in the palm of a mafia family.
Yeah, the occasional stumbling upon a body being dumped in certain areas could be traumatising. Hell, it even caused mass panic.
But, citizens soon learnt one saying, “Don’t cause the Jeons trouble, and trouble won’t find you”. A fancy way of saying, “If you don’t want to be the next corpse, don’t fuck with the Jeons”.
Because all the bodies found were individuals who have crossed them.
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You stare at the wedding venue, brows furrowed as you take in the sight. You knew the Jeons had a taste for dark aesthetic, but you weren’t expecting the wedding decorations to be all black.
You weren’t exactly a superstitious person, but you did believe in the superstition that the colour black brings misfortune.
“Are the decorations up to your expectations, Mr Jeon?” the receptionist nervously asks, “We’ve followed the reference pictures and instructions you’ve given us.”
“Umm… Could I –” your breath catches in your throat when both men turn their attention to you. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, “Not to your liking, doll?”
“No! No! The decorations are beautiful and the venue itself is grand,” you began, “But… Could we add a little bit of colour?”
The alpha crosses his arms, “Colour? You want to add colour?” He gestures to the venue, “You do realise that everything here is decorated with intention, right? Black represents strength, power, control. It’s to show dominance –”
You cut him off, “This is my wedding, too. Don’t I get a say in this?”
Wonwoo’s gaze hardens at your interruption, clearly not used to anyone defying him; much less an Omega that’s his soon-to-be wife. He narrows his eyes, a way to get you to back down without being too dominating so as to not scare off the beta of a receptionist; but you stood your ground. The air thickens, charged with tension.
“A little colour won’t hurt this black theme you have going on, Mr Jeon,” you state, crossing your own arms and taking a step forward, “You can have all the power and control you want, but I also deserve a say in how this day looks because it’s also my day.”
The silence hangs between you both, the weight of your words settling in. The receptionist watches with a bated breath and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. But then Wonwoo shifts, uncrossing his arms and turns to the receptionist, “Accommodate whatever requests the missus has.”
The receptionist visibly relaxes, nodding quickly as he whips out his tablet and moves to stand beside you as you walk around the venue, listing out the changes you wanted done.
“I love the black roses bouquet you’ve lined up down the aisle, but please add in some red roses. Switch out the black ribbons on the vases for white ones; you can barely see anything!”
Approaching the tables, you pick up one of the black napkins that’s been folded into a rose. You turn to the receptionist, “I want all the black napkins gone. Replace them with a burgundy red.” The receptionist jots down every detail, his fingers moving swiftly across the tablet screen as you continue to inspect the venue. Wonwoo watches you silently, impressed as you move with purpose and an air of confidence – something he rarely sees in an Omega.
You stare at the chairs that are draped in black fabric. “Are we welcoming death? I get the whole idea of this wedding to let it be known that you’re a mob boss, but at least have something that shows you have taste.”
Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at your bluntness before the corners of his mouth twitch into a small smirk. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, but his gaze still holds a steady weight, almost as though he’s studying you.
“Taste…” he echoes, his voice low, as if contemplating your word. “This is a wedding, doll, not some fashion show.”
You gently graze your fingertips over the black fabric, “Exactly, a wedding. I get that this whole… dark and mysterious aesthetic is your thing, Mr Jeon, but at least have a bit of sophistication.”
You turn to face him fully, “I’m not asking for colourful flowers or for them to be placed everywhere or even pink ribbons. Just a little bit of refinement so it doesn’t look like a funeral.”
Wonwoo’s eyes narrow slightly, and he watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He takes a step forward, his hands shoved into his pockets as he peers at the receptionist's tablet. “You’re changing everything, aren’t you?”
You meet his gaze, letting out a shaky breath as you try to maintain your confidence, “Not everything. Just enough for it to… look more like a wedding.”
The air remains thick, but there’s no hostility; just a slow understanding that’s beginning to form. After a few seconds, the Alpha lets out a quiet breath and gives a slight nod. “Alright, doll. I trust your judgement.”
He turns and walks out of the venue, saying he has a business call he needs to answer. The receptionist turns his attention back to you, “What would you like to be done with the chairs, um… Mrs Jeon..?”
You give the receptionist a small smile, “You can call me Miss Park. I’m not yet married to him to be called Mrs Jeon.”
The receptionist chuckles nervously, “Not exactly a chance I would want to take, umm… Missus.”
“Hmm, I’ll accept that term. Back to the chairs – let’s switch the black fabric for a red fabric, similar to the napkins. Have a black sash tied into a bow at the back, is that doable?”
The receptionist nods excitedly, tapping away at the tablet as he realises his commission for this wedding may be enough to seal him a quick vacation. “Yes, of course it is, Missus! Would that be all?”
You take one last look at the venue, glancing up at the chandeliers, “Just soften the lighting and we’re all settled.”
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That was approximately six months ago, which means it’s been six months since your marriage to Jeon Wonwoo became official.
Park ___. That's your name, that’s who you are.
A small corner shop florist that was everyone’s go-to for event planning or last minute flowers. Everyone knew you by your flower shop. They knew you by your smile. They knew you as "the flower lady who always got your back!”.
Never in a million years would you think that you’d now be known as Jeon Wonwoo’s wife. Jeon Wonwoo’s Omega. Jeon Wonwoo’s mate.
To be frank, you hated the fact that all your years of hard work were being overlooked now that you were married or bound to Ashville’s most nefarious and powerful mob boss.
Your name, once synonymous with ambition and independence, was now whispered in hushed tones, attached only to his. Your achievements, your sacrifices, all the blood and sweat you had poured into carving your own path no longer mattered. To them, you were nothing more than an Omega claimed by an Alpha who took whatever he wanted.
The weight of your new… identity settles on your shoulders in tons. You imagined several shackles were locked around your limbs, cold and unyielding. It didn’t matter that you had built a name for yourself. Now, you were just his.
And the entire city knew it.
You hated the look people would give you – some with fear, some with pity. Others had a look of cruel amusement, as though they were watching a wild animal realising its cage had no door. That the cage was its new home.
It made your blood boil. You weren’t some weak, whimpering Omega who would roll over and get all submissive at the mere scent of their Alpha. You fought to stand where you were. But damn it all, thanks to the stupid bind fate had planned.
Wonwoo sat beside you in the limousine, both of you having just left a dinner event that was hosted by one of Wonwoo’s allies that was meant to celebrate his wedding. Not both of your weddings, just his. The entire night, you had been paraded around as though you were nothing more than an extension of him – his Omega, his possession, his wife. No one toasted to you, no one acknowledged you beyond hushed whispers and fleeting glances.
You clenched your fists, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress.
“You’re upset,” Wonwoo states, his voice smooth and calculating, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, amused smirk. “What’s bothering you, doll?”
“Don’t,” your tone came sharper than expected, so you took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Your voice was less hostile when you spoke again, “Don’t call me that, please.”
Wonwoo’s smirk didn’t falter, but there was something in his eyes – amusement mixed with the faintest hint of challenge. He tilts his head, studying you as if you were some artifact or priceless painting that’s been put up for display. “Don’t call you what?” he asked, his voice now softer, but the command in his words can’t be missed.
You swallowed thickly, trying to mask the storm inside you as you held your ground. “Don’t call me doll,” you repeated, this time with more conviction. There was a slight tremble in your voice, betraying the raw emotion you were trying to suppress. “I… I’m not a doll, or some object. I’m a person.”
Wonwoo’s remains unreadable, though the intensity of his gaze and his posture didn’t change. But, there was a subtle shift, a quiet acknowledgment in his eyes. “I see my Omega bites back,” he chuckles, his tone teasing but there was a hint of respect behind it. “I must say, it’s quite… refreshing… Or, entertaining, for lack of a better word.”
You frown, “Entertaining?”
His eyes scanned your face, but there was no mockery in his gaze. Instead, there was something more akin to admiration, though when it comes to Jeon Wonwoo, deciphering any of his words or looks was like trying to get pigs to fly. “Well, it’s not every day you see an Omega go head-to-head with an Alpha. Especially if the Omega is now under the Jeon Family.”
“I can play that pretty little housewife you’re picturing,” you mumble, releasing your clenched fists in favour of crossing your arms, looking out the window, “Just don’t expect me to be all pliant and submissive twenty-four seven.”
Another deep chuckle leaves his lips. Something about his words, about how he says you were the first Omega to not heel to traditions makes you feel oddly proud. It was clear he still had his guard up, but at least in this moment, you could tell he’s trying not to push your boundaries or you too far.
“Relax, babydoll.”
Hmm… Perhaps you could accept that pet name. It’s much better than being called ‘doll’.
His voice is less teasing but there was still that underlying sharpness. “You’re still you, despite what society says. That defiance you have there? There’s power in that. Not many dare to challenge the expectations placed on them. Especially Omegas.”
His words sunk in, not as an insult, but as an observation; a praise. It was one that left you feeling both uncertain yet strangely affirmed. It’s the first time in a while that someone, aside from your parents, recognised your rebellion, your defiance as something more than just a nuisance. Let alone an alpha like Jeon Wonwoo.
He reaches out a hand, finding purchase on your thigh. You tense at his touch, the heat of his hand sending a jolt of electricity through your body. But, you don’t pull away, feeling the warmth of his fingers through the fabric of your dress.
“I see that fire you’ve got in you, ___,” he continues, his fingers slowly tracing the curve of your thigh, “And it’s not just for show, too.”
Your tone came out sharper than you intended when you replied, “You think you can control that?”
A sly smirk tugs at his lips, “Control? It’d be fun to break you, sure, but… I quite like the idea of having a feisty Omega by my side. Believe me, babydoll, I know what it’s like to prove yourself to be seen and acknowledged. I had to do the same to prove it to my father and grandfather. You didn’t think I was handed this position just like that, did you?”
"I don’t doubt you had to fight for it," you say quietly. "But I’m not here for a power struggle. Not with you, not with anyone."
He shifts slightly, giving your thigh a firm squeeze. “Look, babydoll, I don’t expect you to bend over my desk or lap whenever I tell you to. But, I do expect you to listen to me when it comes to your safety or if you’re ever caught in the crossfire of my dealings. Is that understood?”
You meet his gaze, feeling a shiver run down your spine. The grip he had on your thigh had goosebumps rising, but the touch wasn’t just possessive; it was also protective. A silent reminder.
“I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself, babydoll. But being capable doesn’t mean you have to face every danger alone, and in my world, in my life, it’s not kind to the unprepared despite their capabilities to be able to stand up for themselves.”
You bite back the words you want to say, about how you weren’t some fragile porcelain doll. That you didn’t need him to look after you like you’re some helpless Omega –
“I’m not asking you to give up the control you have over your life. I can see as clear as day that you’ve been able to manage just fine without an Alpha.” Oh.
“What I’m asking from you is to trust me when it matters. I know this marriage is out of convenience, for the sake of the mating bond, but you’re not someone I’m willing to let slip through the cracks either. Not without a fight.”
His words pulled your defenses down just a little, but you still held on tight to the edges of your resolve. Perhaps it was because of the many judgemental and snide comments you’ve received from others, especially Alphas, in the past that made you want to argue with him. The way he speaks, so calm and measured, you were itching to fight back.
But, something in his eyes stops you. There was no sign of mockery, no superiority – just a raw honesty you’d never thought you’d see in an Alpha. Much less the one that practically rules over the entire city.
“I didn’t ask for any of this…” You voiced out, sounding quieter than you’d intended. “I didn’t ask for you to be my mate. I didn’t ask for you to try and protect me.”
While he doesn’t flinch at your words, there’s a shift in his posture, a subtle tense in his shoulders that tells you he isn’t completely unaffected by your words.
“I know, babydoll,” his tone now tinged with something that feels like understanding, “But, believe me when I say that I am not asking for your submission. I’m asking for your trust. If I wanted to control you, I would’ve made that clear six months ago.”
“Can’t believe those bastards had to wait six months to do this stupid party…” you mumbled, cheeks heating up as you realised you sound like a girl throwing a little tantrum.
Wonwoo chuckles, “Well, our schedules have been overlapping. I think they expected us to go on a honeymoon for a while.”
“Tch, as if I’d ever want to be on the same bed as you.”
“Moving back to the topic earlier, I’m not asking for a leash, babydoll,” his voice is low, almost soothing. “I’m asking you to let me stand by your side when the world gets too heavy. Because it will. And when that happens... I don’t want you to face it alone. All I ask for is your trust and to let me understand you.”
You’re unsure of what to say next, the weight of his gaze making it difficult to think clearly. You’ve spent almost your entire life resisting the idea of relying on anyone, but here he is, asking for something as simple as your trust.
The sincerity in his words linger, and for the first time, you wonder if you’ve misjudged the Alpha. Maybe he wasn’t like the others that were trying to force their way into an Omega’s life. Maybe he wasn’t looking to bend or break an Omega so they’d be solely dependent on their Alpha.
Maybe he too was looking for something different. Something that goes beyond fated bonds and forced relationships.
You look at him, and for the first time, you allow yourself to wonder if there’s a part of you that could trust him.
He pulls his hand away from your thigh, fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary, as if reluctant to break the contact.
“But, there’s clearly something bothering you, babydoll. C’mon, out with it.”
You hesitate, lips parting, but no words come out. You’re not sure where to start or if you even want to start. Part of you still wants to keep everything bottled up, to keep your walls firmly in place. But then there’s him, sitting beside you with that quiet patience, the intensity in his gaze softened just enough to make you believe he might actually care about what you’re about to say.
You shift slightly in your seat, arms tightening around yourself. “That… That Juyeon guy at the dinner…”
Wonwoo's expression darkens almost instantly, the warmth in his gaze snuffed out like a candle. His jaw tightens, and though he remains still, you can feel the way his entire body tenses at the mention of another Alpha’s name.
“And, what about him, babydoll?” His voice is calm, a little too calm. It’s the kind that you know he won’t like your answer.
You swallow hard, “He… The way he spoke to me…”
You sigh, “Look, I know it’s inevitable that people will start addressing by ‘title’ instead of my name. Wonwoo’s Omega. Wonwoo’s wife. But, I don’t like it being said in a condescending tone. The way he called or referred to me as Wonwoo’s little Omega felt as though I was just another weapon or gun you’ve added to your already large collection.”
You shift a little, the frustration simmering beneath your skin as you try to put your feelings into words. “I don’t want to be reduced to that. To just another thing you own. It’s already hard enough that I had to not cuss him out for trying to feel me up the entire time…”
Wonwoo stills.
For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Heavy. Suffocating.
The air between you crackles with something dangerous. His expression doesn’t change, doesn’t twist in anger or morph into something openly furious, but the sheer stillness of him is enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end.
“Say that again, babydoll” he orders, and though it’s barely above a whisper, it’s the sharpest you’ve ever heard his voice. “What did you just say?”
For a moment, you wonder if you’ve screwed up by making such an accusation or statement about his associate. But, you pushed on, “Juyeon… He kept brushing up against me on the table. Placing his hand on my knee, my thigh. He’d touch my back too when he had the chance.”
Wonwoo doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.
But then, he slowly exhales through his nose, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek as if trying to keep his composure.
“I see.”
Two simple words. And yet, something about the way he says them sends a cold shiver down your spine.
“Wonwoo–”
“Mingyu,” he calls out to the driver.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Tell Jihoon to pass a message to Juyeon. I’d like to have dinner with him tomorrow night. Just the two of us.”
“You got it, boss.”
“Wonwoo!”
“I told you I’d stand by you when it matters,” Wonwoo repeats his earlier statement, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “And this matters.”
You swallow, finding it harder to resist the pull of his words than you care to admit. The stubborn part of you wants to fight him, wants to tell him you don’t need his help, but you can’t deny how much relief it brings to know he won’t just stand idly as you get disrespected.
For the first time, you allow yourself to believe that he might actually be a good guy.
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“You�� run a clothing line?”
Wonwoo looks up from his desk, his eyes on you as you stand by one of the many shelves he’s lined up on the walls. In your hands was a photo frame with a photo of him and a blonde man standing side-by-side in front of a building.
“Is that very surprising, babydoll?” he asks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Just because my family runs the mafioso doesn’t mean I have to just run that business.”
Behind the pair was a store with the sign J&W. Wonwoo said it’s a combination of their initials, a collaboration of some sorts. When you asked why he can’t just open one under his own name, his reply was simply, “You really think people would dare to set foot into a shop that’s under my name?”
“This man… Is he a business partner? Shareholder?” A shadow looms over you and tilting your head backwards, it sits comfortably against his broad shoulder. Wonwoo hums, “You could say that. He’s… I consider Jeonghan a friend and if you know me well or long enough, I don’t offer my trust easily.”
“I’m guessing that trust also applies to the hiring process of your bodyguards?”
You’ve counted a maximum of… six bodyguards during your stay at his mansion. Well, excluding his right-hand man, Jihoon, that makes five. “Some… unfortunate incidents happened when I was younger that started my trust issues.”
His voice drops just a little, one hand coming up to rest on your waist. You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches briefly before relaxing, as though catching himself before slipping too deep into memory.
“Jihoon and I have known each other since childhood. Family relations all that so it’s natural I came to trust him.”
“The others?”
“They’ve earned their place and my trust.”
You look down at the frame before tilting your head back up, raising it a little, “And Jeonghan?”
Wonwoo takes the item from your hand, as if examining it before handing it back to you. “Ah, Jeonghan…” A quiet chuckle slips past his lips, “Let’s say he’s a different story… I actually met him through Seungcheol, one of the bodyguards. You’ve probably seen him around – buff, kind of gray-ish hair.”
“The one that’s always butting heads with Mingyu?”
A flicker of surprise crosses his features, “So you’ve been paying attention.” Amusement laces his tone, clearly not expecting you to do so. You narrowed your eyes, “Well, if I weren’t aware of my surroundings, I wouldn’t have been able to survive this long until you showed up, can I?”
He gives your waist a firm squeeze, pressing a kiss to your temple, an action that catches you off guard. “I suppose you have a point, babydoll,” he concedes, voice low. “And I suppose it’s hard to ignore the two when they’re at each other’s throat.”
You roll your eyes. “Well, they’re not exactly subtle… Or quiet. It is interesting to see Mingyu surrender or lower his head, though…”
Wonwoo chuckles, taking the frame off your hands and setting it back on the shelf. “They’re both betas, but Seungcheol does have more of a… I guess more dominant nature. We’d suspected him of being an Alpha initially, but tests proved otherwise.” He adjusts the frame slightly before turning his attention back to you. “Still, that doesn’t stop him from acting like one.”
“And Mingyu just… lets him?”
The Alpha shrugs his shoulders. “Mingyu respects strength. He may not always like it, but he knows when to back down.”
You hum in thought. “And Jeonghan? Where does he fit into all of this?”
“He and Seungcheol go way back if I’m not mistaken. I don’t know the full details, but from what I’ve gathered and from what they’ve told me respectively, they used to work together before Seungcheol decided to have a change in career paths.”
Another squeeze to your waist, “Jeonghan… plays by his own rules. Always has.”
You frown slightly, clearly confused by his words. “What do you mean?”
“He’s a businessman,” Wonwoo says simply, though there’s something guarded in the way he says it. “And like all businessmen, he knows how to get what he wants.”
That doesn’t quite answer your question, but you know better than to push too hard.
“Is he dangerous?”
Wonwoo’s lips curl at the question, but it’s anything but a smile. “He’s charming, I’ll give him that.. And that makes him the most dangerous of all.”
A shiver runs down your spine. You don’t know if it’s from his tone or the way his fingers finally slide away from your skin.
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The air in the mansion felt… different.
You couldn’t exactly put a finger on it, but it just felt as though there was a shift to your surroundings. Your heart was racing despite it being a calm and quiet day, Wonwoo was out discussing a fashion deal and majority of the staff in his mansion were given specific orders to not bother you unless needed.
Your heart was racing faster than usual, your senses were heightened in a way that made your skin feel alive – and not in a good way. It was in a way that made your head dizzy. It was subtle at first, a warmth curling in your lower belly, an uncomfortable tingle spreading across your limbs that makes your skin far too sensitive to the air around you.
You ignored it at first – or at least, you tried to.
The mansion was eerily quiet. The grand halls, lined with cold marble and towering windows. Despite housing the most dangerous mafioso and his bodyguards, it felt safe. But, it could be because of Wonwoo’s presence and his pheromones.
Now, each step you took felt heavier, every breath felt sharper, and the very air felt charged with something oppressive.
You knew this feeling. You had been trained to recognise it.
But it was too soon. Far too soon.
You’ve kept track of your heat since it was revealed that you were an Omega. You’ve made sure to take your suppressants on time to prevent any mishaps, never missing a single dose. Yet, despite your careful planning and discipline…
Could it be Wonwoo’s pheromones?
It had to be – your cycle wasn’t due for another week, give or take.
You pressed a sweaty palm against the nearest wall, a sudden wave of dizziness washing over you. It started as a slow burn in your veins, a heat that swirled in your stomach and spread outwards.
It was definitely your heat. You could feel it creeping up, threatening to consume you if you didn’t act fast.
“Missus..?”
Mingyu.
“Missus, you don’t look so well,” the Beta points out, taking a step forward.
It was times like these that you were grateful for Wonwoo insisting that his staff were Betas. Before you came into the picture, it was to ensure no crossfires ever happened between him and an Alpha staff. Two or more Alphas under the same roof with some kind of “power imbalance” could lead to a hostile environment, and Wonwoo prefers peace and quiet… despite the field of work he’s in.
After you came into the picture, Wonwoo would answer that he didn’t want any unclaimed or stray Alphas pouncing on his Omega.
Mingyu sniffs the air and his ears perk up as he catches a whiff of sweetness in the air. It was sweet like candy and he instantly knew what was going on. Thankfully, his training somewhat prepared him for scenarios like this, albeit it was catered more towards Alphas.
“Missus, do you have any suppressants?” Mingyu, taking a cautious step forward so as not to agitate you. You shook your head, letting out a small sniffle, “I ran out of them… I-I was planning to get them some time this week because it isn’t due for another–”
“Okay, well, I could text Boss to pick some up for you once he’s done with his meeting,” the giant suggests, reaching out a hand to steady you when he notices the slight wobble in your stance. “In the meantime, you shouldn’t be out and about, Missus… Let’s get you–”
“What’s going on here?” Jihoon, Wonwoo’s right-hand, interrupts Mingyu’s sentence. The tall beta freezes, his hand hovering near your arm but not quite touching. His jaw clenched, glancing over his shoulder, meeting Jihoon’s sharp, assessing gaze.
Unlike Mingyu, who was all warmth and concern, Jihoon carried an air of cold efficiency, his presence cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade. The right-hand man’s eyes flicker to you, his nostrils flaring slightly as he picks up on 
Jihoon’s eyes flicker to you, nostrils flaring slightly as he picks up on what Mingyu already had. His brows furrow, and a barely-there sigh escapes his lips. “Shit,” he muttered, noticing the way you swayed slightly against the wall, trying to regain your balance.
Mingyu lowered his hand, deciding that it was best to keep a respectful distance from you. “Missus is having a bit of a… situation,” he said, his tone careful. “She’s early and ran out of her suppressants. I was gonna text Boss–”
“Call him.” The right-hand man’s voice carried an authority that was impossible to ignore. While his eyes softened just a touch as your discomfort, they still held that calculative gaze.
The tall giant was hesitant, his thumb hovering over the screen of his phone. Every one of Wonwoo’s staff knew that calling him while he’s in any sort of meeting was serious. Texting was discreet, something that could be swept under the rug or dealt with later. But a call meant urgency. It meant that Wonwoo would have to drop everything, no matter what he was doing, to deal with the situation.
But a look from Jihoon has Mingyu cursing under his breath, tapping the call button and pressing the phone to his ear.
“Missus,” Jihoo’s tone while still authoritative, was softer than before. His gaze flickered to your hands that were trembling at your sides and against the wall. “Give me your hand.”
You’re momentarily confused, blinking up at him then lowering your gaze to his outstretched hand. His voice carried a quiet but insistent command, and despite the overwhelming wave of hormones washing over you, you obediently did so.
“You’ll be okay,” Jihoon murmured, though it seems he was reminding you rather than comforting you. “All the staff here are Betas, I’m sure Boss told you that. Your heat won’t affect us so there’s no need to fear us jumping on you.”
His gaze returns to Mingyu who’s speaking on the phone. “Won’t be long before Boss gets back. I’ll take you back to your room.” You nod your head, though you weren’t sure if it was in response to his reassurance or because you knew that your legs couldn’t walk without someone guiding you.
The walk through the halls felt like an endless blur, the air thick with both the scent of your heat and the tension of the situation. Your heart pounded in your ears, your breaths coming in short, uneven pants. The mansion, usually cold, felt suffocating now.
You barely registered when Jihoon pushed open a door, guiding you inside the room. You entered without a second thought, freezing when the scent hit you.
This wasn’t your room.
Your body recognised it before your mind did – the faint traces of musk, crisp cologne, and something that was deeply ingrained in your instincts. Your entire being tenses as you realised exactly where Jihoon had brought you.
Wonwoo’s room.
You let out a whimper, the lingering remnants of the Alpha’s pheromones made your entire body tense. He wasn’t even here yet, and you were already drowning in him. You stared at the king-sized bed, your body wanting to sink into it, to bury yourself in the softness of the sheets that still held the imprint of his presence. But, the rational part of your mind knew better.
Your sluggish thoughts tried to fight through the dizzying fog, “Jihoon, this- this isn't–”
“I know, Missus,” he interrupts cooly, “But, I'm going to assume this is your first heat that's induced by an Alpha’s pheromones. It'd be best to get used to Boss’ pheromones – not just for your heat, but for your well-being too.”
“Well-being?”
With surprising gentleness, he guides you to the edge of Wonwoo’s massive bed, lowering you to sit onto the cool sheets. It was a stark contrast to your fevered skin. Your mind screamed for you to leave, to fight the Beta and make a run for it to your room – but your body betrays you as it reacts to the lingering scent of Wonwoo’s pheromones. 
Before you can do anything, you instinctively crawl onto the bed, your fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you as you’re pulled towards the only source of comfort in your current suffocating haze. You somewhat collapsed onto the mattress, burying your face into it and inhaling deeply, a pathetic whimper slipping past your lips as your thighs clench with need.
Your fingers curled into the fabric, your entire body as the Alpha’s scent wrapped around you like a vice.
You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be reacting like this.
You should be fighting this, clawing your way out of this haze and demanding to be taken back to your own room where you can suffer through this alone. But your instincts don’t care for logic. Instead, you’re in Wonwoo’s room, trembling and desperate, drowning in a need so raw it leaves you gasping.
You hated how easy it was to succumb.
And then it happens.
A shift in the air.
A choked noise left your lips as his scent filled the room completely, no longer just a lingering trace but a full, undeniable presence.
You sit up immediately, turning your head back to the door behind you before you can even think. It was an instinct, your body responding to an unspoken command before your mind can even have time to process anything.
“Nonu…”
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Wonwoo definitely broke several speed limits on his way back to base.
The second he saw Mingyu’s name flash across his phone screen – not a text, but a phone call – he knew something was wrong. He brought the device to his ear, nothing more than a clipped ‘Speak’. Once Mingyu announced ‘Missus is early’, he ended the call and left the meeting without a word.
He didn’t care who was speaking. Didn’t care about the confused stares or hushed murmurs as he strode out the boardroom.
The only thing that mattered to him was getting back to you.
He stopped by a pharmacy, picking up several bottles of heat suppressants and a few cooling patches before speeding the rest on his way home.
Wonwoo storms through the halls of the base, his coat thrown onto the couch, his tie loosened and his jaw set tight.
Everyone knew they had to stay the hell out of his way.
His staff, the Betas, moved to the sides, pressing their back against the walls as he passed. Nobody dared to meet his gaze, not even Seungcheol – especially when the Alpha’s scent was laced with irritation – thick and suffocating in the air.
Grabbing a bottle of suppressants and a packet of heat patches from the plastic bag, he tosses the bag to a nearby staff. “Chan, store the suppressants in the missus’ bathroom cabinet. Cooling patches go in the mini fridge for her skincare.”
Chan nodded quickly, following the instructions.
Approaching his room, Jihoon steps aside from the door and slips past him without so much as a glance back. There was nothing that needed to be said. The right-hand man had done his job. Now, it was Wonwoo’s turn.
He entered the room and his expression was unreadable as he took in the scene before him. His nose twitched as your pheromones had practically covered every corner of his room. Sensing his presence, he watches as you sit up on your knees, head turning back and making eye contact with him.
“Nonu…”
He hears your breath hitch as he draws closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate.
“You really are a handful…” His voice was smooth, almost lazy. But, there was something else beneath it, something dark. It caused a shiver to run through you. Whether from arousal or fear, you’re not sure.
He steps closer, footsteps slow and deliberate. With each step he takes, a spike of awareness shot throughout your body. Your body reacts instinctively to his presence, knees pressing together in an attempt to soothe the ache inside your stomach. But, you knew it wouldn’t work.
Nothing did.
Not the cool sheets, not the distance that grew shorter and shorter.
By the time Wonwoo reaches the edge of the bed, your entire frame is trembling. He tilts his head to the side and exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair.
“Nonu…”
Fuck. Your voice sounded so wrecked that the Alpha’s breath stuttered for just a second.
It sounded so needy, trembling with something raw that managed to slip through the cracks of Wonwoo’s self-restraint. His fingers twitched at his side before crossing his arms in front of his chest, the black button up straining slightly against his forearms and chest.
Your mind grew foggy as his scent grew thicker, wrapping around you completely. Before your mind could even process it, your body moved on its own – crawling to the edge of the bed to be closer to where he stood.
Wonwoo didn’t understand why Jihoon would bring you to his room (he does, he just doesn’t want to acknowledge it). You should be locked in your room, alone and away from him. Yet, here you were – right in the center of his personal space, clinging to the sheets like they were the only thing anchoring you to your senses.
The worst part of it all?
You looked like you belonged there.
He reaches out, cupping your cheek and tilting your head up. A small, needy whimper slips from your lips before you even realise. He orders you to stay still and you do, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. Wonwoo presses the pill to your tongue and the bitter taste barely registers past the haze in your mind.
“Swallow.”
You obey instantly, throat bobbing as you swallow the suppressant without protest. You opened your mouth again, showing him that you had done exactly as he ordered.
Wonwoo’s jaw tightened.
The fact that you took the suppressant without much fight should have relieved him, but it didn’t.
Because your lips trembled.
Because your pupils remain dilated.
You close your mouth, another whimper slipping free as you nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand that cupped your cheek. Both of you knew the heat won’t subside immediately, that it would take up to hours for the suppressant to actually kick in.
After a few moments, Wonwoo pulls his hand away and lets out a slow, measured breath.
“Good girl.”
Two words.
Just two simple words.
And yet, your entire body shudders.
His eyes darkened for a brief second before he stood to his full height, pulling his hand away as he took a step back. You whine at the loss of his hand against your kin, blinking up at him and Wonwoo swallows hard.
“Don’t.” His voice came out tighter than he intended, “Don’t look at me like that, babydoll.”
Like he was the only thing you needed.
Like he was the only one that could save you.
“Nonu, please,” you whined, “Make the pain go away.”
Wonwoon’s self-control snapped and before he could even think, he was on you. One hand came up to cup the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your head up.
And then he kissed you.
Hard.
It wasn’t soft and gentle.
It was desperate – a clash of heat and hunger, of pent-up frustration.
You gasped into his mouth, fingers fisting into his shirt and his grip tightened. Wonwoo presses his lips harder against yours as he swallows every whimper, every soft plea. Your heat was drowning him, making him forget every single rule he had set for himself.
He knew this was reckless. Knew that this could have dire consequences.
But when you moaned against his lips, the noise soft and needy, every ounce of logic flew out the window. His tongue slid against yours, deepening the kiss as if he was attempting to steal the breath from your lungs. His hands moved, sliding down your thighs and gripping them just enough to make you gasp again.
Wonwoo thinks he could still salvage what little control he had as he presses you deeper into the mattress – at least until he hears you whisper his name. The sound was soft, pleading – ruined, even. And he realises that it was already too late.
He’s gone.
“I’ll only help you this one time,” Wonwoo’s voice was low, dangerously low. He sounded controlled, but the way his hand gripped your thighs; the way his gaze dropped to your lips betrayed the inner turmoil he was facing. “Understood?”
You nodded immediately and he narrowed his eyes. But there was no mistaking the way your body arched towards him like it already knew what it wanted. His hands slid up your sides and under your shirt – his rough, calloused hands running against your smooth skin.
Just this once, he told himself.
Just tonight.
Just until the suppressants kicked in.
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“Nonu!”
Fuck. The way you cried out so prettily for him had him curl his fingers deeper inside you. He was supposed to be in control, not let his instincts take over. But, damn it, the way you begged his name in that desperate, pleading tone had him losing focus.
Truth be told, Wonwoo always had a distaste for the heat and rut cycles. They were messy, primal; a reminder of how little control he had when it came to instincts like this. His body screamed for release, for dominance, but discomfort clawed at his mind.
But, God, the way you reacted to him. Every touch, every whine of his name, it ignited something he couldn’t deny.
Your back is pressed against his chest, the fabrics clinging to your skin damp with sweat and fever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you could feel was how good his fingers were working inside you – skillful and relentless.
The fabrics between you only intensified the ache. Your night shorts were thrown somewhere into the corner of his room, the shirt somewhat bunched around your hips while Wonwoo, still fully dressed, sat behind you with his back against the headboard. His chest felt warm against your back, the steady breaths he let out betraying the tension vibrating through his body.
You keened, one arm thrown back to hold the back of his neck in an attempt to ground yourself. “Nonu…” You whimpered, voice cracked and ruined. “N-Need more. Please, I–”
“I know,” he growls against the side of your neck, voice strained. His lips brushed your skin, not quite a kiss, but the warmth made your entire body shudder. “I know, babydoll. Your poor pussy needs more, right? Your heat has you all hot and aching, doesn't it?”
His free hand rests on your waist, anchoring you against him as his fingers curled again – this time slower, as though he’s searching for something. “She’s begging, babydoll. Dripping and sucking my fingers in like she knows who she belongs to.”
A sharp gasp leaves your lips and Wonwoo feels your body tremble. Your legs try to snap shut and he whispers into your ear, “That the spot?”
You nodded, back arching as his fingertips continue to bully your g-spot. You could feel him pulsing hard through his pants, pressed flush against your ass. Every clothes rut of his hips against you has you crying out – needy, frustrated.
Your thighs are trembling violently now, the tension coiling deep in your gut and it was ready to break. Wonwoo continues to stimulate that spongy spot, his fingers working to open you up with expert precision. “You’re close, aren’t you, babydoll?”
You could only nod, not trusting your words as your mouth parts to let out a high pitched moan as your body surged towards the edge. He presses his fingers until they’re knuckle deep inside you, curling up right against that spot as his thumb circles over your swollen clit.
“C’mon,” he rasps into your ear, “Cum for me.”
Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up.
White hot pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your vision blurs and your entire body seizes as you cried out, body jerking against the Alpha behind you as a gush of wetness spilled over his hand and soaking the sheets beneath you.
Wonwoo doesn’t move. Instead he holds you tighter, hands still resting between your legs but his thumb circles your clit in a manner that was meant to ground you. You're gasping and shaking in his arms, hands trying to push at his wrists, desperate but weak. You aren’t sure if it was overstimulation or if you wanted him to give you more.
His voice was low, full of something far too tender for the way his heart was racing – for the way he’d always acted. “Good girl. Did so well for me.”
Wonwoo looks down at you only to be met by you looking up at him, eyes glassy and lips parted in a silent plea. You were flushed and panting in his lap, slick coating his fingers.
Despite his distaste for these cycles, he knew he’d do it again.
He hated how much he realised he loved this, how he could pull those sounds from you.
But, he loved how he was the only one who could pull those noises from you.
Loved how you trusted him through it.
Wonwoo carefully pulls out his fingers, ready to move you back to your room – then you whimper out his name like it was a prayer meant just for him.
“Babydoll,” he growls lowly, voice rough and filled with warning. “Don’t look at me like that.”
Yet you did.
Maybe it was the scent of your heat. Maybe it was the way you clung to him, silently begging him. Maybe it was the way that nickname you called him rolled off your tongue like he was your God.
He’s quick to have you pressed against the mattress, hips flushed against yours as he finally gives in to the carnal pull. You hear him fumbling with his belt and the sound of his zipper coming undone. The sudden shift in the situation knocks the air straight from your lungs.
One moment he’s cradling you in his arms, the next you’re sprawled beneath him; his hands on either side of your head to not just keep himself up, but to keep you right where he wants you.
Where you need to be.
You gasp out his title – not his name or that cute lil nickname you just gave him, but his title. Your eyes fluttered shut as your fingers claw into the bedding, silently begging for him to just fill you up.
And he does.
In one thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and savours the way you cry out to him, body arching as your pussy clamps down on him.
He leans over you, chest pressed against yours, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Feel that, babydoll? That’s me shaping your pussy so that it only knows how to take my dick.” He pulls his hips back, just until only his tip remains inside before slamming forward, making sure you feel him in your womb. “Wanted me to fuck you? Well, I’m gonna give it to you.”
A needy sob escapes your lips as he sets a punishing pace; and he chuckles lowly, hot breath against your neck. His lips part and he bites down on your neck, hard, claiming the spot with a bruising mark. You gasp, the sting sending a jolt of pleasure through your core, causing your pussy to squeeze him tighter.
Wonwoo growls, hips stuttering for just a moment before he thrusts even deeper, harder – making sure your walls remember every vein, every inch.
“My sweet Omega,” he grunts against your skin, voice rough and possessive. His tongue darts out to soothe the bite. You mewl, feeling the imprint of his teeth as though he was trying to brand you as his.
Your hands scramble for purchase, settling on his back and your nails dragged down his back as he fucks you through every tremble, every whimper.
“You like that, dontcha babydoll?” he sits up, knees digging into the mattress as his hands grip your hips so tightly you were sure it’d start to bruise. All you could do was nod, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes.
“C’mon, babydoll,” he coos condescendingly, one hand sliding up your body to wrap itself loosely around your throat. He didn’t apply any pressure, just letting it sit there as a reminder of his control, his claim.
And it was like a switch flipped.
A sharp gasp escapes your lips, back arching off the mattress as more slick drips out of your pussy, creating a white ring of cream around the base of the Alpha’s cock.
You didn’t mean to react the way you did, and Wonwoo felt it.
The way your walls clenched around him tighter, the sudden wetness coating where your hips met.
“Oh?” his tone was dark with approval, “You like that?”
“S-So good, Alpha,” you choked out, mind growing hazy from your heat and the pleasure, “Love.. Love it so much! Feels s’good!”
His thrusts grew rougher as something primal took over. He removes his hand from your throat, sliding it down your body to rub tight circles over your clit. Your back arches as a sharp cry tears from your throat, body trembling uncontrollably. Slick gushes out from your pussy as you squirt again, drenching his shirt and milking his cock.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, hips stuttering at the milking compression of your cunt. “Shit, I’m close, babydoll. And you're gonna let me fill you, isn’t that right?”
You nodded through the haze, words slurred by pleasure, “A-Alpha!”
That was all it took. With one final thrust, Wonwoo buries himself to the hilt as his cock twitches inside you as he cums deep inside you. 
The room was thick with the scent of your heat and sex, but all Wonwoo could hear was the sound of your soft, uneven breaths – body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure, barely conscious of anything except for the way he filled you to the brim.
He stayed buried inside you for a moment longer, reluctant to leave the warmth of your creamed pussy. But when he hears your soft whimper, noticing the way your body twitching from oversensitivity, he’s snapped back to reality.
Wonwoo groans as he carefully pulls out, a groan escaping his lips at the sight of his cum spilling out from you – coating the insides of your thighs and dripping onto the sheets beneath you. You whimper at the emptiness, at the sudden cold air on your overheated skin.
He doesn’t say anything, only tucking himself back into his pants and stands up.
For a moment, you thought he’d leave you in his room – maybe even go as far as to sleep in one of the guest rooms.
But then, you hear the faint rustling of the plastic bag before the mattress dips beside you.
Wonwoo leans over, gently brushing away the sweat-damp strands of hair from your forehead. You can barely keep your eyes open, the heat and aftermath pulling you under.
Then, coolness.
A soothing, mental chill spreads over your fevered skin as he places a cooling patch on your forehead. You let out a shaky breath, weakly reaching out for him.
Wonwoo takes them in his.
“Shh,” he murmurs, his voice no longer holding that sharp or commanding tone. Instead, it sounds softer. “I’ve got you babydoll.”
His other hand adjusts the sheets around your body, tugging the blanket up to your waist after retrieving your night shorts from the floor. He made sure your legs weren’t tangled, made sure you were comfortable.
You blinked up at him sleepily, cheeks still flushed a shade of red and lashes slightly damp. “Please stay, Nonu…”
He freezes.
For a moment, the only sound was his breath, still a little uneven. You could tell he was torn between his old habit of keeping you at arm’s length and giving into his instincts.
Without uttering a word, he eases under the covers beside you, gently pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, strong and warm, as he nuzzles his face in your hair. “Of course, babydoll. You’ll sleep easier if I’m here.”
Wonwoo never stays. Once he’s made sure you’re in good hands, he'd leave.
But, tonight wasn’t like the others.
Tonight, he stayed – not to keep his distance, but to keep you close.
Tonight, he stayed to protect you.
His.
You felt it then– the way he held you. Not like a favour, but like someone claiming what’s his.
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Weeks after that incident during your heat, you and Wonwoo went on with your lives as though nothing had happened. The mansion returned to its usual rhythm – quiet mornings, the hum of the electric kettle.
Wonwoo buried himself in work, occasionally checking up on you as per his mother’s command, occasionally picking you up from your flower shop instead of leaving it to Mingyu. They were… small efforts into making the marriage look less of a business arrangement, but you appreciated it nonetheless.
You busied yourself with your own work, too. But, you’d still go grocery shopping and prepare meals for the people of the mansion (which frankly, was a task you overestimated because cooking for 6 people proved to be a difficult task). They’d thank you, of course – you went through all the time and effort – it’d be wrong for them not to appreciate it and clean up after themselves.
However, you were careful to not let yourself brush against the Alpha for too long. Nor would you let your thoughts drift back to the night where tangled limbs and breathless whispers once filled the space.
While you both went on with your lives, acting as though nothing had happened – there was a subtle shift in the air.
Mingyu was the first to notice it.
Being one of the bulkier guards, he had been stationed at the mansion to keep an eye on things during your off days. It was a simple routine he took a liking to – he gets to have a nice conversation with less scarier missus and it was considered low stake.
That morning started out no different than the others. You passed him in the hallway, offering a soft habitual “Morning, Gyu” as you balanced a basket of laundry against your hip. He nodded in return, returning the smile and his eyes followed you until you turned a corner.
His nose twitched as he picked up the smell of something… sweet. Like the first bloom of spring in the middle of winter.
It was far too faint for it to be a heat cycle, but it still lingered in the air.
Mingyu couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You looked the same, moved the same. But there was something different about your aura.
Wonwoo only noticed the sweetness of your pheromones once Mingyu brought it up.
He’d pause a little longer when he passed you in the hallway, fingers twitching just a little when your scent clung to the couch after sitting on it for hours. His jaw would flex when you leaned over him to grab something from the kitchen shelf.
Yet, he didn’t say anything.
Neither did you.
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You hear the door open just past midnight.
Muted voices. Heavy boots.
You catch a whiff of the faint, metallic tang of blood and turn your head towards the front door.
Wonwoo was the first to enter, as always. His expression is calm, unreadable. His coat hung open, dark with flecks of something you didn’t need to guess. Jihoon followed close behind, quieter than usual. His shirt was stained too, though he’d slug his jacket over his arm to conceal most of it.
He looked… calmer. The tiredness in his eyes were evident, but he didn’t have that frenzied look he always had. There was no smirk, no offhand remarks about which body part he sliced off, where he left it or if he convinced Wonwoo to break every bone of their rivals.
You stayed curled on the far end of the couch, a soft blanket on your lap with a book in hand. “Hi, boys. Long night?” You asked, tone casual but laced with something warmer
“Hey, Missus,” Jihoon responds, brief but polite. “Kinda.. But, we got it under control.”
He disappears down the hallway without another word, tugging off his bloodied gloves. Wonwoo follows a beat later, slinging his coat over one shoulder, a faint dark red smear on his jaw. “Have you had dinner, babydoll?” His voice was oddly warm.
You nodded your head, “Gyu made some aglio olio with steak. There should be some leftovers in the fridge for you.”
Wonwoo nods in response. He continues to stand there, looking at you like he was still figuring out he’s supposed to get used to coming home to this – to you.
You look back at him, and he notices the subtle way your nose wrinkled at the scent clinging to his nose, how your fingers twitched against the cover of the book you’re holding.
“I’ll go shower,” he mumbles, voice lowering. It almost sounded like an apology in disguise.
He walks up the stairs, halting momentarily to look back at you. That scent of yours still hangs in the air – sweet, distracting. Wonwoo stands there for a few more seconds before disappearing in the halls of the house, leaving silence and a rising heat in your chest.
He reappears moments later, now in a loose shirt and pyjama pants – looking more like a sleep-deprived graduate student than a man capable of unspeakable violence. He heads towards the kitchen and you follow him, feet quiet against the hardwood floor.
The house felt too big at that moment, the silence stretching between the walls like it was listening. The Alpha doesn’t say anything, just moving with the practiced ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times – opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of chilled wine. It was like he belonged in the silence.
The overhead light pooled golden over him, catching in the soft fall of his hair, the sharp line of his jaw. The loose fabric of his shirt clung to the curve of his shoulder, just barely damp from the shower he just took, and you caught yourself staring – longer than you should have.
“You’re not gonna eat what Gyu made?” you asked, breaking the silence between you both before it could swallow you whole.
Wonwoo didn’t look back at first, popping the cork with one clean motion and pouring himself a glass with a kind of ease that spoke about how often he did this – like he was numbing or avoiding something.
“It’s cold now,” he answers, voice quiet but not dismissive. The wine filled his glass with a smooth swirl of deep red.
Then, without a word, he reached for another glass.
Not for wine.
He filled it with water from the chilled filter on the fridge, the sound soft and steady in the stillness of the kitchen. He sets it down on the counter near you and you blinked. There was no eye contact nor explanation, but the gesture settled somewhere deep in your chest.
You take a step closer, fingers brushing against the cool glass as you pick it up. “Thanks..” You take a sip and set it back down, leaning against the counter with your arms folded loosely. “But, just because the food is cold means it’s bad.”
“I’m not hungry.”
You watch him bring the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before setting it down with a soft clink. His gaze lingered on the dark liquid, as though he was contemplating something.
“You didn’t even look at the plate,” your voice wasn’t accusatory, it was just gentle – just there.
Wonwoo lets out a breath, not exactly a sigh. “Didn’t need to.”
The silence that followed felt different – it felt tighter.
Then, without thinking, you moved a little closer. Just enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. Just enough for your voice to come out quieter when you asked, “Do you ever let yourself take a break, Nonu?”
Wonwoo’s jaw tensed. He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “I take a break when I sleep.”
“You barely sleep…”
You see a flicker in his eyes – you touched something.
He knew it.
You knew it.
But he didn’t run from it, at least not this time.
“Then I guess I don’t stop,” his reply was low, maybe a little bit more honest than he meant it to be.
You stood there for a beat, the glass cool in your hands – the silence wrapping around you both like a blanket that was too heavy to shake off. Your eyes dropped to the way his fingers held the wine glass, knuckles still faintly pale from tension. The condensation on your own glass trickles down your fingers, as though it was trying to ground you in the moment.
“Are you hurt anywhere, Nonu?” The question came out softer than you meant it to be – it sounded warm and it lingered in the air. You didn’t look at him directly, just watching the condensation slide down the side of his glass.
“No.”
It was clipped. Cold. Dismissive.
The kind of answer that was meant to end the conversation before it could even start. You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. Of course – you weren’t supposed to ask. You weren’t supposed to care – not like that. Not out loud.
He didn’t move at first. Just standing there, knuckles pale against the glass as his eyes locked on some distant point past the kitchen tiles. The silence stretched, heavy and humming, until he sniffs your sweetness in the air again. The sweet scent relaxed his posture, his shoulders dropping just a little and his grip around the glass loosened.
You watched him carefully, heart thudding in your chest and your voice caught before you even knew you were going to speak again.
“Can… Can I sleep with you tonight, Nonu?”
The words hang in the air, delicate and trembling.
It was too soft to take back. Too honest to ignore.
His fingers stilled around the glass, the sound of the fridge humming filled the silence that followed. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it had. Your heart thudded in your chest, loud enough to drown out the quiet.
Wonwoo stares at you, his expression unreadable. His eyes seemed darker tonight, shadowed by something you couldn’t quite place a finger on. He looked tired – not just physically-bone-deep tired, but it was like the world had taken a little more from him than he was willing to admit. Whatever he and Jihoon did out there, it still clung to him like smoke.
“Trouble sleeping lately, babydoll?” His voice was surprisingly soft, low and quiet like he didn’t want to wake the others in the house.
You nodded, looking at the glass in your hand. “The air’s been… weird lately. A-And, it’s hard to sleep without you lately.” Your fingers tightened slightly around the glass, voice barely above a whisper – shaky and raw, “I-I don’t know why but it is… Especially when you’re gone.”
He was still staring, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look up – not when you knew his expression is all it takes to undo you.
Another beat of silence.
One second.
Two.
Then, you hear a quiet breath escape him. His glass clinks on the counter as he sets his drink down.
His voice was soft, “Come on, babydoll.”
His response caught you off guard. When you looked up, he was already turning away, walking toward his room – but his pace was slower than usual. As though he was waiting for you to catch up to him.
Your heart flutters, warmth flooding your chest even as your legs carry you forward. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything when you slipped into his room behind him, the bed dipping under your weight. The mattress sighs softly when you settle in beside him – it wasn’t the first time you shared a bed, but it was the first time you asked to.
You lay on your side, back facing him as you clutched the edge of the blanket like it was the only thing anchoring you. Wonwoo doesn’t move for a while, but you could hear his breathing – steady, though it was a little too measured to be natural. Awake. Thinking.
Maybe regretting this decision.
Your throat tightens, tears brimming in your eyes as you start to overthink.
But then, quietly, just barely there, you feel the blanket shift. The mattress dips again, and your back feels warmer as his body inches close. It doesn’t touch, though it was there.
There was a beat of silence, the tension in the air so thick that you could feel it pressing against your skin.
Then, slowly his arm slips around your waist. It was slow enough to almost break you. Your breath hitches, but you don’t stop him. You don’t move, letting yourself sink into him. His hand rests lightly on your stomach, not in a possessive manner; just there, offering you a grounding presence.
“I don’t sleep well because I worry of the danger you’re in by being my mate,” he murmurs, voice almost buried against the back of your neck. “Not when I come back from that kind of work. Not unless I know you’re safe.”
You close your eyes, something in your chest tightens at the vulnerability in his voice, a kind of raw honesty he rarely ever let slip.
“I am safe, Nonu,” you whispered, “With you.”
He doesn’t say anything, but the way his arms wrapped themselves around your waist, the way his forehead lightly brushes against your shoulder… It was enough.
You didn’t say another word. You didn’t need to.
Sleep came slowly that night, but this time – when it did, it came easier.
And for the first time in what felt like weeks, neither of you woke up alone.
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Wonwoo stayed late at the office one night. The quiet hum of the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows did little to distract him from the glow of his screen or the dull ache that was beginning to form behind his eyes.
Numbers blurred, reports repeated themselves – he was going through the motions, more out of habit than necessity.
His phone buzzed. His mother.
“Mother?”
“Wonwoo,” her voice was soft, but there was a certain sharp edge to it. “You’re working late again?”
“I am,” he said flatly, not annoyed – just a little confused as to why his mother was calling him.
“Go home, Wonwoo. Be with your mate. She needs you.”
The words stung more than it should have.
“She has Mingyu and Chan looking after her–”
“She doesn’t need them, Wonwoo.” Her voice firmer, “She needs you. Her Alpha.”
“What’s this about, Mother?”
“It’s hard for me to explain this over the phone, Wonwoo. Just… Just go home and be with ___, okay?”
The line disconnects before he could respond. Staring at his phone, his thumb hovers over the redial button, demanding answers.
He never got the chance.
His phone rang again – this time, Mingyu’s name flashes across the screen.
It was never a good sign when his men called him.
He picks it up on the first ring. “What?”
“Boss– Wonwoo– fuck,” Mingyu’s voice was shaking, breathless. “Where are you? Missus is gone. The door was busted in, Chan’s unconscious near the stairs and– fuck– there’s blood.”
The words don’t register at first.
“She’s gone.”
Wonwoo froze in his seat, phone pressed to his ear – Mingyu and Seungcheol shouting on the other end. Something about getting Chan medical help for a GSW to his abdomen. The office lights hummed quietly and everything around him felt… wrong. Too still. Too normal.
It was so… eerie.
Blood. Mingyu said there was blood.
“How messy is the place? How’s Chan?”
He finally stands up from the desk, papers fluttering off his desk, forgotten. His grip tightens around the phone until his knuckles whitened.
“It’s bad, Boss. This place is trashed, fuck.” Shuffling can be heard before Mingyu speaks up again, “Chan said she fought. Oh fuck, one of the guy’s face is clawed off.”
“Gyu!” Seungcheol’s voice rings through the background, “We got a survivor! Tell Wonwoo to come back quickly!”
Mingyu didn’t need to relay the message, already hearing Wonwoo starting up his car.
The Alpha’s jaw clenched so tightly that it started to ache. A sound clawed its way up his throat, something raw and ragged. But, he swallowed it down. “How long ago?”
“About an hour. Maybe less. Cheol and I went out to get some groceries and when we got back, we found the place like this.”
“Chan and Vernon?”
“Chan’s wound up pretty bad, but he’ll be okay. Vernon’s helping Cheol prepare the bastard that survived.”
Wonwoo exhales through his nose. He feels sick. His body wants to move, to run, to destroy something – but his mind was spiraling, trapped in the memory of your last interaction. Cold, casual and detached. Like you were just a roommate. Like he hadn’t felt the way you cling to him during that heat. Like he hadn’t felt you snuggle up close to him when you both fell asleep in the same bed weeks after.
He should’ve listened to his mother.
He should’ve come home.
“Make sure that bastard lives until I get there,” he ordered Mingyu, voice now low and lethal. “Tell Jihoon to get his switchblade ready.”
He ended the call and drove through the streets. The engine roars to life like it felt his fury, the sound tearing through the night as he shot out of the compound. Tires screamed against the pavement, and the city blurred past him – buildings, lights, the occasional flash of red as he burned through the intersections without hesitation.
You were his.
And someone had taken you.
He was going to make sure he’d put an end to those bastards.
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Your head pounded.
The room swayed as you blinked awake, wrists bound behind your back and there was a coppery tang in your mouth. A single overhead light buzzed above you, like a spotlight focusing on the main lead, and the rest of the space was swallowed in the shadows.
Concrete walls. Damp floor. Industrial. Underground? Maybe.
You shifted, testing the restraints. You could move, but it’d take some effort to break free from them. Then you hear it.
Footsteps.
You stilled, keeping your head low as several men stepped into the room. You didn’t recognise their scents. They weren’t of anyone familiar to you. They weren’t Wonwoo.
One of them circled you, stopping somewhere behind you. “She’s smaller than I thought…”
“Yeah, but she’s feisty,” came another, his voice sharper. “Don’t let her face or size fool you. Bitch fucking bit me when we took her in. Had to knock her out to make things easier.”
One knelt in front of you, just out of kicking distance but you held back. “You’re awake.”
“Such amazing observation skills,” you snorted, blinking the haze from your vision. “What gave it away? My eyes being open or the fact that I’m glaring back at you?”
It was a shame they didn’t laugh.
“If you’re smart and behave, maybe we’ll go easy on you.”
You scoff, “Please, if you were smart, you’d know you made a grave mistake the moment you busted my front door in.”
The figure leans in slightly, expecting fear but all you offered was a tilt your head. “So, what’s the plan? Some kind of ransom? Revenge?”
The masked man tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re not exactly acting like a scared little Omega.”
“Yeah, funny thing about that – I bark and bite. If you assholes think you can–”
Smack.
A sharp slap landed across your cheek as you were mid-sentence. The sting flared, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you take a deep breath and straighten your posture, licking the copper from the corner of your mouth. “Oh, my bad…” your voice was low, “But you really should’ve known better than to think I’d be the damsel in distress type.”
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There were at least three of them when they returned after leaving you alone for hours. They still wore those black face masks, as if that was supposed to scare you.
One carried a metal case and the other cracked his knuckles, another move that was meant to scare you. But what was scaring you the most was how terrible their intimidation tactics were. You sat upright the best you could, back straight against the wooden chair, chin lifted like you hadn’t been bound for hours. Like you weren’t aching in places you hadn’t known could ache.
They didn’t speak at first, only opening up the case. Silver tools gleamed under the low light.
You arched a brow. “Wow. Dontcha think that’s a little dramatic? What happened to just asking nicely?”
One stepped forward and backhanded you, hard. Your head snapped to the side, cheek screaming from the impact, but you refused to give them the satisfaction of crying out in pain.
“Tell us everything you know about the Jeon clan,” demanded the man that opened the metal case. “Security. Other bases. Codes, if you know any.”
You spit at his face.
They didn’t like that.
The first hit was to your stomach – brutal and deep, knocking the breath from your lungs. Then another to your ribs, then your face again. You lost count after five, maybe six.
Still, you didn’t scream.
“Damn, this bitch can take hits.”
Pain blurred the edges of your vision, but you clung to consciousness with everything you had. You thought of Wonwoo. Of how he looked at you when you didn’t think you were watching. Of how he subtly showed his affection thinking you wouldn’t notice.
You thought about how furious he’d be if he were to see you in the state you were in. Wonwoo’s mother had previously mentioned their stand on crimes against women, how if their own had even a strand of hair plucked, the perpetrators would face dire consequences.
When they paused, panting like they’d been doing real work, one leaned in and grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging on it hard. “Last chance. Talk.”
The smile you gave had one of them flinching. Not because of how badly beaten up you looked, but because it bordered on the line of a psychotic smile.
“The Jeons don’t break, and neither do I. We fucking burn.”
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These bastards sure as hell loved leaving you alone. Though you’d consider it to be a mistake on their end.
Your body was wrecked – ribs aching, lip split and bruises were already to form everywhere. But you were still breathing, still alive and that was enough.
You tilt your head back, blinking up at the ceiling through the haze of the pain. Blood dripped down your chin, but your hands were slick now – whether it was from blood or sweat, you couldn’t tell. You twist your wrists again, angling against the metal cuff just the way Wonwoo had shown you during one of his late-night, paranoid self-defense lessons. “If they bind you with steel, look for tension. Give it slack, then break it where it’s weakest. Everything has a weak point.”
It hurt like hell, but you kept going. The metal bites deeper into your skin before it snapped.
You stifle a gasp as the cuff breaks loose with a sharp clink. Your left wrist was bleeding freely now, but you didn’t waste a second. You made your way to the door, and to your surprise, it was unlocked. Either they didn’t you’d try, or they thought you couldn’t.
You slid out silently, stating low. You hear footsteps and muffled voices somewhere down the hall. Realising you needed a weapon, you decided to find their weapons storage. Your head spun, but you pressed forward and duck into the first door you saw.
Luck must’ve been on your side because it led you exactly where you wanted.
Guns were lined up on the tables, the overhead lighting making it seem more ominous than it already was. Your fingers shook as you picked up a semi-automatic handgun – sleek, back, loaded. Wonwoo’s voice echoed again, “Don’t ever hesitate to shoot. That gives them a room to attack. You pull the trigger the moment they come into view.”
You hear footsteps approaching and pressing your back up against the wall, breathing through your nose, waiting. You hold the gun close to your chest, and when the masked man steps inside, you don't hesitate.
Bang.
He dropped like a sack of potatoes, the sound of the shot echoes through the hallway.
There was no going back now.
Shouts echoed down the hall and you made a run for it. Turning a corner, you came face-to-face with two more men. They hadn’t expected you to be armed, by the time they noticed the gun in your hand and reached for theirs, you had already pulled the trigger.
You ran past their motionless bodies, trying to figure out where you were. The layout and interior – you knew you were in some kind of warehouse. Then you smell it – the night air, you were close to an exit.
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You burst through a door, grunting in pain from the sheer force you had put on your shoulder to get the damn thing to open. Your knees almost gave out, the adrenaline making your hands shake.
You kept the gun raised, every shadow looked like another threat.
But you didn’t stop.
Not until you were safe. Not until you got back to Wonwoo.
But you weren’t able to get far.
The alley had opened into a dead-end loading yard and your heart dropped the second you saw the rusted fence, the padlocked gate.
A black van screeched to a halt behind you. You spun, gun raised – but hands grabbed you from both sides before you could even aim. You bit, clawed and kicked, but there were too many. They slammed you face first down onto the ground, a heavy knee to your back following. Your cheek scraped against the pavement and the gun slipped out of your hand.
“Hello, ___.”
You froze, your blood went cold.
Juyeon.
You turned your head enough to see him step into view. His suit was stained, fingers missing from both hands – four gone entirely with pink scars crusted where they’d once been. He flexed what was left, grimacing slightly as if the sight offended him.
Wonwoo had done that. You knew it because Jihoon had told you – how he encouraged your Alpha to cut off the fingers on his left hand so they were more… symmetrical.
“You fucking bastard,” you spat, “I’ll have them dismember you–”
His laugh cuts you off. “Still got some fight in you, I see,” he mused. “That’s what my men meant by you’re no ordinary Omega.” He crouches down, eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. “But you’re more useful to me if you shut the fuck up.”
You snarled, bucking under the weight holding you down. One of his men shoved your head back down as Juyeon took out a syringe from his suit. The liquid was thick, glowing a faint blue under the alley lights.
“You know what this is, little Omega?” he asked conversationally, “The labs call it Phase Nine. It’s new. Not on the market nor the black market.”
You went still.
“It’s a liquid heat inducer that’s designed to have your primal instincts override your rationale. It could even break bonded cycles.”
You thrashed, “Don’t you fucking touch me with that! I swear I’ll–”
“Hold her,” Juyeon ordered.
“No!” You kicked wildly, but the hands clamped down harder.
“I said hold her!”
You screamed when he jabbed the needle into your neck and depressed the plunger.
A cold, burning sensation spreads through your veins like ice catching on fire. Your limbs trembled violently and your lungs burned with every breath you take. You heard Juyeon chuckle as darkness begins to swallow your vision.
“Take a little nap,” he whispers, “And when you wake up, your body won’t resist anymore.”
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You wake  to the sound of voices – low, mocking laughter. Your head throbbed, and your body felt… wrong. It felt as though weights were chained to your body and your head felt fuzzy. The heat inducers were still coursing through your veins, but you fought the haze, clinging to the remaining sharpness you had in the chaos of your mind.
You feel the fire burn from inside out, every nerve in your body screaming for release.
The door to the room opened and Juyeon stepped in, his fingers twitching where they were still missing. He wore that sharp, predatory grin on his face and how you wished you could slap it right off of his face. His presence was suffocating and the pheromones he was releasing stank up the room so bad you wanted to throw up.
You gritted your teeth and pushed yourself up from the cool, concrete floor. Your limbs felt like lead, but you couldn’t let him get close.
Only Wonwoo could touch you.
Not this disgusting bastard.
He notices the faint fight in your eyes and pauses, a cruel smile crept onto his face as he observes your struggle. “Shit, you are a tough one to break. Lucky for me I got more of those inducers to break you.”
He takes another step forward and your body tensed. “C’mere, Omega,” Juyeon coaxes, his voice so syrupy that it twists your stomach the wrong way. “Let me help you with that heat of yours, yeah? I’ve got something far better than the inducer you’re desperately fighting. Something real.”
You growl, throwing your body into him. Your actions startled him – he hadn’t expected you to fight, not with the drugs clouding your senses. But you didn’t need to be at your best. You needed to make him understand that you were more than just an Omega.
You got a punch in, a brutal hook to his jaw and knocking him back. Juyeon staggered, but he didn’t fall. His men moved, one lunging towards you; but you managed to catch his wrist, twisting it behind his back with a vicious snap, making him grunt in pain.
Another went for your throat, but you kicked up, shoes hitting him in the stomach that had him doubling over, gasping for air. It’s a shame you weren’t wearing your heels, would’ve left a mark on the bastard.
You moved again, a blur of motion and rage. You weren’t thinking nor did you care, you only had one goal – to survive.
Another man reached for your arm. You spun, elbowing him in the face then slamming your knee into his ribs. He staggers, gasping for breath. You were covered in sweat, heart pounding as your body rebels against the inducers.
One of Juyeon’s man was quick enough to grab you from behind, pinning your arms to your sides. “That’s enough,” Juyeon sneers, wiping the blood from his mouth. He grabs another syringe from the table, the liquid inside glowing a sickly blue. “You want to fucking fight? Fine. Let’s see how long you’ll last.”
You hissed, struggling against the man holding you, but the inducers were still tearing through you. The heat was unbearable, your vision swimming in and out of focus. You were starting to lose control.
“Fight all you want, sweetheart,” his voice was mocking as he approached with the needle. “But you’ll break eventually.”
Your hands were still unrestrained, and in that final moment of desperation, you grabbed an old pipe that lay on the ground. You swung it with all your might, hitting the nearest man across the skull. He collapsed with a sickening thud, and you barely had time to register the victory before Juyeon was on you again.
Your body was trembling, soaked in sweat as blood was smeared across your face and hands. The pipe clattered to the floor beside you, slick with someone else’s blood. Juyeon stood across from you, staggering as his face twists into something monstrous. The second that syringe slipped from his grasp during your scuffle, it shattered across the cement.
“You little bitch,” he spat, pulling out a switchblade from his pockets. “You think you’ve won?”
You didn’t answer, hands scrambling for the gun from one of his men on the floor. Your hands shook, but you raised the weapon anyway. Just like Wonwoo taught you.
Never hesitate when it comes to your life.
Juyeon takes a step forward and you pull the trigger.
Bang.
The scream that tore out of his throat was inhuman.
He dropped to his knees, clutching his crotch as the front of his pants soaked red. He writhed, gasping and cursing through clenched teeth. It wasn’t a clean shot, but you didn't want it to be.
Your hands were still trembling as you kept the gun trained on him. “Never… Never underestimate an Omega. Especially me.”
The door slammed open behind you. Boots thundered in, guns drawn and you hear voices yelling commands.
You didn’t turn. You didn’t have to.
You already know who it was.
“Clear the room!” Seungcheol’s voice echoed like thunder. “Get the Missus to safety and lock up any survivors!”
Vernon was quick to reach you, kneeling beside you as his hands tried to gently guide the gun down. “Hey, Missus…” he said quietly, “You’re okay now. We’ve got you.”
But you couldn’t bring yourself to lower the gun. It was as though you feared that if you did, Juyeon would get up.
Then you smelled him.
Wonwoo appears through the smoke of bodies, his eyes immediately locking on yours. The sight of you, his mate – bloodied, shaking and bruised – had him on his knees by your side in the blink of an eye. Sure, you were alive; but you were hurt.
He doesn’t say a word, only pulling you into his arms and holding you like you were the last thing in the world that mattered. You didn’t even realise how cold you were until Wonwoo wrapped his arms around you.
His warmth crashed into you like a wave, and what very little strength you had left was gone as your body collapsed into his. You could feel the way his body shuddered as he held you, his breath ragged against your hair, like he hadn’t been breathing until that moment. His hand held the back of your head, fingers tangling in your messy hair like if he let go – you’d disappear.
“I’ve got you, babydoll,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’ve got you now.”
You dropped the gun.
And finally, your body let go.
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Wonwoo carefully knocks on the door, a way to announce his presence before sliding it open. His eyes meet yours and his shoulders slump when you give him a small smile. “Hey…” was all you managed to say before his giant stature envelops you in a tight embrace. The Alpha nuzzles into the crook of your neck, a quiet whine leaving his lips as he takes in your scent. It’s grounding, calming – proof that you’re here, safe, and his.
You melt into his warm embrace, your hands instinctively finding their way to his broad back. His tense muscles slowly relax under your touch, his soft whines turning into soft hums of contentment.
“I… I was so scared,” Wonwoo admits, “Scared I couldn’t find you, couldn’t reach you in time… I –”
“Nonu,” you call out softly, one hand moving up to comb through his dark locks, “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
He nods and pulls away, the crease in his brow not fully gone. “Yeah, but… I can’t help to think of the worst case scenario of what could’ve happened had we gotten there any later… ___, the doctors said you were practically battered. There’s even still traces of that heat inducer in your blood.”
You shudder at the memory of having the liquid injected into you, Wonwoo tightening his hold on you. “They didn’t touch you did they?”
“Well, it depends on what you mean by touch..?” It was more of a question than a statement, “They didn’t put their dicks in me if that’s what you’re wondering. I was drugged up and a little woozy, but I managed to fight them off until you guys showed up.”
“So, they did touch you,” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your template. “I’ll deal with those bastards once I head back.”
He cups your face in his large hands, his eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory. “How are you feeling, babydoll? Feeling any better?”
You manage a faint smile at Wonwoo’s concern, your fingers brushing gently over the back of his hand where it cradles your cheek. “I’m feeling better,” you murmur, though the ache behind your ribs and the lingering exhaustion paints a different story. “Just… Just need to pee real quick…”
Wonwoo looks hesitant, but he nods, reluctantly removing his hand from your face.
You swing your legs over the side of the bed and push yourself up, determined to manage the short walk to the bathroom without assistance. But the moment you stand, a sudden jolt of pain rips through your lower abdomen. You let out a strangled gasp that makes Wonwoo instantly alert. Your knees give out before you can even call out to him.
You clutch your stomach as your body crumples to the cold tile floor.
“___!” Wonwoo is quick to drop to his knees beside you, arms wrapping around you before you hit the ground. “Babydoll, hey, what’s the matter?”
“It hurts,” you wheezed, eyes squeezed shut as another wave of pain twists through you. “Nonu, it… My stomach hurts.”
He feels his heart shatter at the sight of you writhing in pain, his arms tightening around your waist as he gently tries to ease you onto his lap. “Fuck, okay. I’m calling the nurse–”
“No, don’t go,” your breath was shallow, hand clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly. “Stay. Please.”
“Shit, shit… I’m here, babydoll. I’m not leaving.” Wonwoo’s voice is firm but trembling, his free hand fumbling for the call above him. He presses it repeatedly, urgency written all over his face. “Nurses! Doctors! We need help in here!”
He cradles you closer, rocking you slightly as if trying to soothe you through the pain. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmurs over and over, lips brushing against your forehead. “I’ve got you, babydoll.”
Moments later, the door bursts open and nurses rush in. Wonwoo doesn’t let you go, not until they gently urge him aside to check your vitals and prepare to move you. Even then, his hand never leaves yours.
And when they wheel you away for tests, his gaze follows you – haunted and fierce – already blaming himself for letting you get off the bed in the first place.
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“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs Jeon… It seems you had a miscarriage.”
The words hung in the air. The silence that followed felt suffocating, like a weight pressing down on your chest. Wonwoo’s and your mother wrapped their arms around you in an instant, offering you comfort; but everything felt so… distant. Their voices were muffled and the doctor’s face was blurred as the word ‘miscarriage’ echoed in your mind.
Your hands instinctively moved to your stomach, as though you were trying to hold onto something that was no longer within reach.
Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s tense body stood behind you as if he were a statue that’s freshly carved from stone. His emotions were frozen in place and his silence was louder than anything else in the room.
Suddenly, the pieces began to fit in place.
Why his mother kept nagging him to return home instead of doing overtime in the office.
Why his father kept urging him to look into a bigger home.
Why his mother and mother-in-law kept visiting you while he was away.
Hell, that even explained why Jihoon was more tame.
You were pregnant.
Pregnant with his child.
Your mom and Wonwoo’s mother tried to comfort you with soft reassurances murmured in your ear, but they couldn’t pierce through the thick glass that’s been erected around you. Your mom’s hand stroked your hair, a gesture that was meant to soothe you. But it only reminded you of the ache, of a loss so sudden that it felt as though a piece of you had been ripped away.
Wonwoo’s shaky voice brought you back to reality, “How… How could this have happened? W-When– How long has she been pregnant? She wasn’t displaying any symptoms or even showing!”
The doctor shifts, looking at the clipboard in his hand. “Mrs Jeon was around… seven weeks into the pregnancy. It’s not uncommon for the symptoms to be minimal, especially in the early stages. We suspect that what Mrs Jeon had experienced was a cryptic pregnancy, where the pregnancy goes undetected or unnoticed.”
You feel the Alpha shift his gaze from the doctor to you. “Seven weeks…” His voice was laced with confusion and guilt as he tries to recount every moment he’s spent with you, searching for signs he might have overlooked. He runs a hand down his face, resting it over his mouth as he mutters, “Fuck… No wonder your scent was sweeter…”
“As for what could’ve caused her miscarriage… We can only assume that it was due to the recent… uneventful incident that the Missus has experienced. The emotional, mental and physical distress coupled with the absence of an Alpha must’ve increased her stress levels to a point where it significantly affected her well-being.”
The doctor lowers his head in condolences and exits the room. Both yours and Wonwoo’s parents left soon after, deciding to give you both some privacy.
“Nonu…” you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Your broken voice seemed to crack something within him and his rigid frame finally moved. Wonwoo sinks down to his knees in front of you, his hands hesitantly reaching for yours. He held them gently, and despite his warm touch, you could feel the tremble in them.
“Babydoll…” You finally forced yourself to look at him, and the sight added another weight to your already heavy heart. His jaw was clenched as his lips were parted slightly, his lips trembling slightly while his eyes glistened with unshed tears. He’s quick to cup your face when you sniffle out his name again, wiping away the tears that began to spill from your eyes.
“No, no, no…” he murmurs, wiping away your tears. “Don’t cry, babydoll… This isn’t your fault, yeah?”
His tender words only made the tears fall harder. The pain in your chest was unbearable, and the sound of his voice made it harder for you to hold yourself together. You shook your head, “N-No… Nonu, it was my fault. I-I should’ve been more alert or at least aware as to why I was –”
“Hey, hey…” He interrupts gently, “Don’t do this, babydoll, please. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You didn’t know, and even if you did, this is something out of your control.”
His thumb continues to stroke your cheeks, wiping away the endless tears that streamed down. “B-But… I-I should’ve.. hic… told you that I wasn’t feeling�� hic… like myself.. M-Maybe i-if you’d known, you could’ve –”
Wonwoo presses a gentle kiss to your lips, leaning his forehead against yours once he pulls away. “Babydoll, please, don’t blame yourself… I… I should’ve been a better husband… I shouldn’t have just left you all alone again after your heat. I shouldn’t have kept my distance from you thinking it’d be a good decision… I should’ve been paying more attention to you, been home with you..”
His confession made your heart ache further. You reached up, your hands trembling as they covered his. “No, Nonu… Please, don’t say that… You've been the perfect husband and –”
“Babydoll, I wasn’t there to realise something was up. Our parents knew it before we did and –”
“We could… We could try again, right..?” Your voice was shaky, filled with uncertainty and carried a weight as though speaking it out loud could shatter what little hope you were clinging to. Wonwoo’s breath hitches, his eyes carrying the same raw, aching vulnerability you felt.
“Oh, babydoll…” he whispers, his lips trembling as he pecks your lips, “Of course we can. We can try as many times as we want, but that’s for when you’re ready – when we’re ready. Right now… Let’s… I… Let me make sure you’re okay.”
You nodded, hands moving from covering his to clutch the fabric of his shirt; as if holding onto him would stop the pieces of your heart from falling apart any further. “We’ll try again,” you echoed, voice trembling but filled with a quiet determination. “When we’re ready.”
Wonwoo hums, tilting his head to the side so he could capture your lips in a tender kiss. His lips moved against yours gently. It was soft, unhurried, and full of unspoken promises. When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours once again, and his hands move to cradle your face, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks.
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Snow muffled the world outside the cabin, layering the landscape in a blanket of silence and softness. The fire crackled lowly, casting shadows on the wooden walls and painting flickers of gold across the thick blanket tangled around your legs.
It’s only been days since you left the hospital, body still aching quietly – your ribs would hurt just a little when you breathed in too deeply, you could even feel the stiffness in your limbs when you moved too fast. But here, tucked away in the mountains with no one but Wonwoo, the pressure to be okay all the time faded just like the hush of falling snow.
Wonwoo sits beside you on the edge of the bed, his presence warm and steady. He’d just come back from gathering more firewood, snow melting in his hair and a few flakes clinging stubbornly to his coat. You watched him shrug it off, mouth watering at the way his muscles ripple under the thick sweater as he crossed the room to tend to the fire.
God, he looks so good you just wanna pounce on him.
He returns to the bed, slipping under the covers with you like he belongs there – like he’d always been there. One of his arms snakes around your waist, drawing you against his side with practiced ease, careful to not press too hard against you.
He smells like warm cedar, a touch of pine, and that deep, grounding Alpha musk that seeps into your senses like a balm. He exhaled softly, rubbing slow circles into your hip with his thumb.
“Is it too cold?”
You shake your head, almost purring into him. “Not with you here.”
Wonwoo’s expression softens, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good. I was worried it’d be… well, something you wouldn’t like. The snow, the isolation…”
“You picked it for a reason,” you whispered back, nuzzling into his chest. “It’s quiet up here. I like that.”
He held you closer, his heart beating steadily beneath your cheek. “I needed us somewhere no one could reach. Just for a little while.”
“Because I’m still healing?” Your voice was smaller than you meant for it to be.
“No.” His answer was immediate. “Because I need time with you. Alone. Not shared. Not interrupted. Just… us.”
You hum, closing your eyes and letting yourself be embraced by the most fearsome man of the city. In this moment, where the world was blanketed in snow, where nothing existed but the steady beat of Wonwoo’s heart and the feel of his body against yours, you were safe.
“Nonu?” 
Wonwoo looks down, still curling against his side beneath the blanket, hand pausing on your waist. “Yeah, babydoll?”
You hesitated, feeling your pulse thudding against your ribs. You feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours and the subtle way his scent thickened the longer you laid together in the quiet cabin. Maybe it was the isolation, or the cold outside – or maybe it’s just him.
The sense of safety he gives.
You swallowed, “What… What do you think about knotting me?”
Wonwoo stills, his hand splaying wider on your waist as a means to ground you in place, as though you’d float off if he didn’t. He leans down slowly, brushing his nose against your cheek. “Are you asking me if I thought about it?” his voice is now laced with some darker, thicker. “Or if I want to?”
Your face burned, and you tried to look away, but his hand caught your chin, gently coaxing you to meet his eyes. His gaze flickers down to your lips, then lower, and back. “You know I’ve thought about it, babydoll. Especially that time during your heat, but I had to stop because we were still getting used to each other.”
“What about now?”
His voice drops, “You’re still healing. Not now, okay?”
You let out a shaky breath, “I feel okay, Nonu. Better. And… I want it. I want you”
His hand tightened slightly at your hip, not enough to hurt, but just enough to let you feel the echo of what he was holding back.
“You sure, babydoll?” he asks quietly, “Because once I do that, there’s no going back to pretending I don’t need you. I’m going to be all over you, y’know?”
You reach for your Alpha, fingers curling into his sweater, voice barely steady. “Then let it.”
For a moment, Wonwoo just stares at you. And then the alpha in him stirred – quiet and hungry – as he shifts to hover above you, mouth grazing yours. “My feisty Omega can’t help but to be all soft for me now, hmm?” his voice was rough with barely checked restraint and it was enough to have you dripping. His breath ghosts over your lips, his nose brushing yours as his eyes darken. “Always biting back, but the second I touch you like this…”
His hand slides down your thigh, his touch possessive and curls it under your knee, spreading you open just a little more before pulling down the pyjama pants you were wearing.
“...you melt.”
Your breath catches, fingers curling into his sweater as heat coils low in your belly. Wonwoo wasn’t just teasing, he was marveling.
“Oh, babydoll,” he continues, enjoying the way your thighs tremble when his cold fingers trail up the skin of your bare thighs. “I’m going to bury myself in you and let my knot swell so deep that you’ll forget where I end and where you begin.”
“You’ll take good care of me, right, Alpha?”
Wonwoo groans softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll take good care of you, my sweet Omega.”
He kisses you slowly, soft at first – the deeper, hungrier, like the dam had cracked and he could finally taste what he’d been starving for. His palms slid down your sides, memorising every curve, every shiver. He doesn't rush, deciding to not strip you out of the sweater you were wearing to keep you warm.
Pulling away just enough, Wonwoo slides off his glasses and settles them aside on the nightstand. His eyes, dark and intense, were focused entirely on you. The familiar weight of his gaze sent a shiver up your spine. It was as though without the barrier of his glasses, he could see straight through you.
“You’re so beautiful, babydoll,” he murmured, breath brushing against your lips before he kissed you again, deeper, like he couldn’t stop himself. He groaned against your mouth, the soft drag of his lips against yours. His fingers traced the line of your jaw., down your neck and over the curves of your body, like he was committing the shape of your body to memory.
You let out a shaky whimper, hands trembling as you reached for him, tugging him closer. His entire being invades your senses, filling the space between your bodies as his kiss grew more intense, more desperate. You can’t help but respond to his hunger with your own, pulling him closer against your body.
You barely registered the way Wonwoo moved, only the warmth of his body that left yours for a moment. You hear the quiet click of the drawer opening beside the bed. Your voice wavered between surprise and something breathless, eyes widening just a little as your Alpha pulls out a slee black toy from it. It gleamed in the firelight, deceptively elegant. It wasn’t flashy, obviously neither you nor Wonwoo liked flashy. It was plain black, smooth, curved, and obviously meant for one purpose.
"You brought a vibrator on our honeymoon?"
Wonwoo shrugged, “More like Jihoon and Mingyu told me to. They’re… invasive to say the least.”
“How did they even know we’d be doing this?”
Wonwoo gives you a dry, amused look, like you’d just asked why the sun rises. “They’re nosy and overconfident. Honestly, since that night of your heat and when you’d ask to sleep with me, Mingyu said he can smell some kind of budding romance.”
You stared back, “That’s… That’s not a real thing, right?”
He shrugs again, “God knows. Jihoon just enables him. I have a feeling they packed it themselves when I wasn’t looking.”
A pause.
“You don’t check your luggages?”
“They probably hid it under my clothes.”
You snort, “I’m surprised it even made pass customs.”
Wonwoo chuckles, “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’ve smuggled through airport security.”
You raise an eyebrow, “Do I even want to know?”
He tilts his head like he’s genuinely considering it. “Probably not.”
You stare at the vibrator in his hand, “So… What use is this to us and did you at least sanitise it?”
Wonwoo sits back on his heels, the firelight casting him in gold and shadow as he pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to his forearms. “Of course I sanitised it, babydoll. As for what use, I’m sure you have that figured out.”
You let him part your legs slowly, his eyes instantly dropping to your wet cunt. He caresses your thighs, coaxing them wider and when his scent changed, thickening with quiet arousal, your body responded like it knew what was coming.
“I’d consider my knot to be big,” he said, voice low and even. “It’s gonna take more than just my fingers to open you up.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. He eases two fingers into your cunt, tongue darting out to wet his lips when your breath gets stuck somewhere between your ribs and your throat. The drag of his knuckles felt cruel, like he wanted you to know exactly how he’d take you apart.
When he pushes in a third finger, you whimper. The stretch burns at first, before it fades into a more consuming ache. Your hips buck instinctively, his hand on your waist kept you pinned down like you were nothing more than a body to be used.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, shifting closer so his lips brushes against your jaw, “You keep clenching like that and I’m going to think you like being stretched out like this.”
His fingers curled again, and you choked on a cry.
“Atta girl,” he praised, smiling against your skin.
The air was heavy with the smell of sweat, arousal, and something more dangerous. You were trembling underneath him, not just from pleasure but from the oppressive weight of his presence, the way he looked at you like you’re something fragile yet can’t help but want to break you at the same time.
Every curl of Wonwoo’s fingers leaves you breathless, the coil in your lower belly growing tighter. “You’re dripping, babydoll,” he says flatly, drawing his hand back just enough to spread your wet folds with two of his fingers before plunging them back inside. “You’re making a mess and I barely touched you.”
With one final curl of his fingers, your back arches involuntarily as his fingertips press hard against your g-spot over and over. “C’mon, babydoll,” he murmurs, voice filled with arousal. “Cum for me.”
Your body obeys, a loud cry of his name tearing through your throat as your body seizes, pussy walls fluttering around his fingers. Your nails dig into his arm, thighs trembling around his wrist, and all you can do is ride it out as he coaxes every last tremble from your body. He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, breathing hard, and sweat sticking to your skin.
Only then does he ease them out, slowly. He lifts his slick covered fingers to his lips, tongue flicking out to taste you as he keeps his eyes on your ruined expression with a dark glint.
“You taste sweeter than I thought,” he mumbles. Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss on your lips before spreading your thighs again. “Gimme one more and I’ll knot you, yeah?”
He turns on the vibrator, the black toy humming to life. You watch with wide eyes as he brings the toy to your slick, pulsing entrance. The moment the curved tip presses inside you, your hips jerked. It zeroed in on that spongy spot deep inside you, making your vision blur and your thighs tremble.
One hand keeps your hips still while the other begins to move the toy inside you. Your breath stutters, back arching as the toy presses up and in, vibrating relentlessly against your gspot. Your legs twitch, thighs trembling as you try to squirm away from the intense pleasure, but Wonwoo won’t let you.
He keeps you in place, spread open while he grinds the toy mercilessly against your gspot, your pulsing walls clenching and unclenching around it rhythmically. Slick, wet sounds fill the room, echoing between your moans and the relentless hum of the vibrator. Your knuckles turned white as your hands clutch the sheets, the coil in your lower belly tightening up again.
“Nonu!”
“Gonna cum again?” he asks, voice low and taunting. He pushes the toy deeper and your vision goes black around the edges. A broken sob claws its way out of your throat as the pressure becomes unbearable. “C’mon, babydoll. Show me how greedy this pussy is. I want you soaked for my knot. Wanna feel you gush all over me.”
He twists the vibrator just right, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit and your body convulses around the toy. A loud cry rips from your throat, sharp and raw as your pussy squirts, hips arching off the bed – drenching his wrists, the toy and the sheets beneath you.
Wonwoo groans, eyes dark as they lock on the way your body submits to him so beautifully. “Fuck, babydoll” he breathes, tossing the wet vibrator aside. “You’re ready to take me now. Gonna stretch you around my knot just how you’re meant to.”
He doesn’t even bother to wipe his hand, sliding them under your thighs and guiding them around his waist, lowering himself over you. You can feel the heat of his cock, flushed and heavy, grinding his length against your slick folds. “Gonna knot you so good, babydoll. Fill you so full that everyone who smells you knows you’re taken.”
You lick your lips at the weight of his knot that’s already swelling at the base. You lock your legs around his waist, heels digging into the curve of his back pulling him closer.
That was all the permission he needed.
Wonwoo lines himself up, holding back a growl as the blunt head of his cock bumps against your clit. His jaw clenches, holding back a guttural growl as he pushes in, inch by inch. Your eyes flutter shut as he stretches you, your slick walls sucking him in greedily.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grits out, kissing your jaw. “So fucking wet. Pussy feels so warm that I could die happy right now.”
You whimper, back arching as he bottoms out, his knot pressing against your entrance. He rolls his hips experimentally, letting you feel every vein of his cock, the way his cock drags against your soaked, swollen walls.
His head dips to press his mouth against the curve of your jaw, your throat. “Taking me so well. Fuck, you feel so good.”
His hands tighten on your thighs, pushing them up so your knees are pressed against your chest, angling your hips just right so he can sink even deeper. His leaking cockhead bullies your sweet spot, making you cry out with each thrust.
“Feel how deep I am, babydoll?” He slides a hand between your bodies, pressing down on your lower belly. You moan at the pressure, nails scratching down his clothed back and Wonwoo starts to roughly thrust into your sloppy cunt. The drag of his cock against your walls sends aftershocks through your twitching body.
Wonwoo groans loudly, biting down on your shoulder – not hard enough to break the skin nor the sweater you wore, but enough to have your wet walls squeeze around him. “Shit, babydoll. Your pussy tightens up when I bite you. You like that, huh? Like it when I mark you up?”
You can’t answer. You’re shaking and gasping, all thoughts wiped out by the way his leaking cockhead grinds into your cervix with every thrust, body starting to bounce from the sheer force.
He presses down on your belly again, palm flat and firm. The pressure makes you clench reflexively, his eyes focus on the way your pretty cunt is stuffed snugly around his dick – entranced with the way your puffy lips coat his thick cock with your sweet cream.
“Nonu,” you whine out, feeling a jolt of electricity run up your spine when his abdomen rubs against your clit. “Please! Want your knot!”
Wonwoo growls, forcing his knot past your rim with one brutal thrust and stretching your pussy wide. You cry out in pleasure and pain, nails digging into the fabric of the sweater that he thinks you’d shred it into pieces. You feel it pop past your entrance and lock inside you, your vision going white.
He pulls out halfway only to slam back in, so addicted to how tight and wet you are around him. He loves how your gummy walls are taking his knot, how the lewd sounds of skin slapping and the wet squelching of your pussy fills the cabin. Wonwoo’s thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it hard and fast; grunting in approval when he feels your arousal drip out your stuffed cunt.
“N-Nonu, ‘M gonna cum!” you moan, head thrown back against the pillows as he fucks you harder into the mattress.
“I know, babydoll,” he murmurs, “Can feel your pussy milking my cock.”
Your walls flutter wildly against him. His knot throbs, snug and swollen inside you, ready to fill you up. “Cum for me, my Omega,” he groans into your neck, planting wet kisses as he chases his own climax. “Make a mess on my cock.”
Your orgasm slams into you, white, hot and all-consuming. Your entire body convulses underneath him, pussy creaming his dick. Wonwoo curses under his breath, hips jerking as your pulsing walls trigger his own release.
“Take it,” he pants, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he spills his cum deep inside. Ropes and ropes of hot cum flood your womb, and you mewl as your mind wanders back to the first time he filled you up.
Your Alpha stays buried inside you, knot locked tight as he releases your legs, hanging them over his forearms. One hand has a possessive grip on your hip while the other rubs your overstimulated clit in slow, teasing circles with just enough pressure to make you jolt.
He grinds his hips against you, knot fully lodged inside you. It’s said that Alphas cum more than they usually do when knotting their bonded mates, and sure enough, Wonwoo was indeed filling your pussy with load after load of his hot cum. Not that you were complaining though. You happily take every drop he gives you with a blissful smile.
The fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting the room in a dim amber. You’re still lying beneath Wonwoo, still stretched wide around his knot, both of you soaked in sweat and slick. You could still feel him twitching inside you, some of his cum slipping past the tight sleeve of your cunt around him. 
He releases his hold on your legs so he can bury his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin, teeth nipping over your scent gland. His voice was soft when he praised you, “My babydoll did such a good job at taking my knot.”
His hands slide under your sweater, caressing your body in gentle touches. You both stay like that until his knot deflates. But, your body hasn’t had enough yet. Your hips shifted without thinking, instinctive, needy.
Wonwoo chuckles when he feels it, pulling back to look at you – his eyes dilated and darker than before. “You still want another round, babydoll?”
You bit your lip, squirming just a little as your walls flutter helplessly around his girth. “Well, you’re still hard, Nonu~”
His grin is wolfish, but there’s a glint of fondness in his eyes that makes your heart flutter. He hums, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel the slow drag of his length still nestled inside you. “That’s ‘cause your greedy little pussy won’t let go of me.”
He leans down again, pressing a kiss just below your jaw, tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin. “Keep squeezing me like that and I’ll knot you again, babydoll.”
You purr, bucking your hips up to meet his.
Wonwoo hisses, shifting his weight and hooking his forearms beneath your knees. In one swift motion he folds you in half, sinking his cock deeper into your pussy. He kisses you hard, tongue sliding against yours as he pounds your soaked cunt, thick cockhead repeatedly knocking against your cervix so hard it knocks the breath right out of your lungs too. You gasp into his mouth, body starting to tremble from the stimulation.
“Fuck,” he moans, “Pussy still so fucking tight. Look so fucking hot full of my cock.”
You cry out when you feel his knot start to swell inside you again. You can only moan and cry as he keeps hammering his cock into your sensitive hole. “Bet you’d take every load I give you, huh? Stuff you so full you’ll be dripping for days.”
Your head lolls back against the pillows, lips parting in a breathless moan. You feel everything – the stretch of his knot forcing you wider, locking you in place, the way his cock drags along your swollen walls.
“Nonu–” you whimpered, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. “Full! Too full–”
“But you can’t help but to want me to fill you again,” he groans, gripping your hips with a bruising grip. He shifts the angle of his thrusts, feeling him in your guts as his thick cock pummels into you relentlessly. Wonwoo groans when he feels your pussy constrict around him again. “Ohh, fuck, babydoll. You gonna cum again? Gonna squirt all over my cock like the needy little Omega that you are?”
You can’t answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are your filthy moans. You wail every time he drives his dick in and out of you, grinding his thick knot right against that spongy spot inside you until you reach another climax.
Your whole body seizes as you cum hard, the air being punched out from your lungs. You gush around your Alpha, liquid splashing between your thighs – soaking his sweater and the sheets beneath you. Wonwoo is mesmerised by the sight of you squirting all over his cock, how your eyes screwed shut while your sweet cries filled the room.
“Fucking hell, babydoll,” he growls, throwing his head back as he feels his own climax approaching. “Squeezing my cock so fucking good.”
The milking compression of your walls around him, clenching and unclenching around his knot, like your body was begging for him to creampie you was what drove him right to the edge. With a loud roar of your name, his whole body goes tense. His fat cock twitches and throbs inside you, flooding your already wrecked cunt with spurts of his hot cum. His knot swells further, making sure to keep your soaked pussy filled to the brim.
You cry out, nails digging into his forearms as you feel droplets of his cum drip down your thighs. Wonwoo groans when he feels your walls flutter around his length, grinding his hips slowly to try and push his cum deeper.
When he releases your legs from the mating press he had you in, you let out a moan of relief. Your muscles are barely able to hold up after being held up in that position for so long. Your thighs fall limp on the bed, trembling, and slick with sweat and a mixture of your bodily fluids.
Wonwoo doesn’t move, his cock still buried inside you as he continues to release more ropes of thick cum, coating your walls. He places his palm flat against your belly again, right over the small swell of where his cum is filling you – where his knot is. Then he presses down on it.
You gasp, your entire body jerking.
Your cunt tightens reflexively, milking his cock for more of his cum, and he groans at the squeeze. You whimper, eyes glassy, and droplets of tears cling to your lashes.
Your body goes limp beneath him as Wonwoo hovers above you, back hunched as he tries to come down from the delicious high he had just experienced. He’s still sheathed inside, cock still pulsing, his cum sloshing inside your pussy that he can already feel it dripping down your thighs.
But, fuck, the way you were tightly holding onto him – his pretty Omega all wet and stretched and stuffed to the brim, it had his instincts just snarling beneath the surface.
“Shit, babydoll,” he murmurs, voice thick with pride and affection, “Knotted you twice and you’re still squeezing me like you want a third.”
You let out a shaky chuckle, looping your arms around his neck. “I might,” you whisper, giving him a dazed smile.
Wonwoo shakes his head, “You’re insatiable.”
When he leans down to pepper kisses to your throat, you whimper out his name. “Shh, I got you, babydoll. Let’s wait til my knot deflates before we do anything else.”
You hum, clinging to him as your legs weakly wrap themselves around his waist, body still trembling from pleasure and emotions.
And as the snow continues to fall outside, blanketing the surrounding world in white, you and Wonwoo stay tangled together in the heat of the cabin, arms holding each other like you’d never let each other go.
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taglist @livelaughloveseventeen @mrsjohnnysuh @luvjichang @peachytokki @arusio @wooingmandy @scoupsonlycherry
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unorideul · 6 months ago
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wonwoo is not much of an affection giver but he definitely doesn't mind receiving it, especially if it's from you.
he doesn't mind the weight of your head on his broad shoulders after a long day and you're already feeling drowsy. he would even offer a hand to rub on your back or squeeze against your waist as an added comfort.
he doesn't mind the arms that wrap around his shoulders or the head that found its place in his neck from behind as he sat gaming. if anything, he would remove his headphones so he can listen and respond to whatever you have to tell him.
he doesn't mind the kisses you pepper on his face on a random friday night after you’ve finished a chore and just saw him cutely sitting on the couch. he may scrunch his face in faux annoyance but the smile that comes with it gives him away.
he doesn’t mind the soft tugs on the sleeves of his sweater that excitedly leads him to a shop where you saw a rare figurine that you’ve been eyeing on. he might throw a “what would be the purpose of that? i’m sure you’ll just let it rot on the shelf and be covered in dust” all the while his hands are already fishing for his card in his wallet to give you.
he doesn’t mind the hand that always reach for his when you’re outside, or the homemade snacks that is served on the table as he stayed focus on his game, or your invites to try a couple trend with him, maybe the random bites on his arms and cheeks when you’re having cuteness aggression also?
no, wonwoo most definitely do not mind any of those, as long as and as far it is you and only you who give it to him.
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daisymbin · 8 months ago
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[07:52] - jeon wonwoo
check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list
“five more minutes,” wonwoo mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer as his nose burrows into the crook of your neck; refusing to let you go.
“you’ve been saying that for the past thirty minutes,” you grumble, half-heartedly pushing at his chest. “we’re going to be late.”
“no, we won’t,” he counters, his voice muffled against your skin. “you’re always early anyway, its okay to be late for once.”
you sigh, but the warmth of his embrace makes it hard to stay firm. “wonwoo, seriously. we have things to do.”
“but not as important as this,” he murmurs, his lips brushing lightly against your collarbone. “just five more minutes. promise.”
you crane your neck to glance at the clock on the bedside table. “you said that at 7:15. it’s almost 8 now.
he groans dramatically, shifting just enough to rest his chin on your shoulder. his bedhead is adorably messy, and his glasses sit askew on the nightstand where he left them. “fine. three more minutes then."
“you’re impossible,” you mutter, though you make no real effort to leave his grasp.
“but you love me,” he says, his lips curling into a small, sleepy smile.
“unfortunately,” you tease, trying not to laugh when he gasps in mock offense.
“unfortunately?” he echoes, leaning back just enough to look at you properly. his dark eyes, still soft with drowsiness, search yours. “take it back.”
“nope.”
“take it back, or i’m not letting you go. ever.”
“you’re already not letting me go,” you point out, laughing softly.
“exactly.” his grin widens as he rolls onto his back, dragging you with him until you’re sprawled on his chest. “looks like you’re stuck with me.”
“wonwoo,” you whine, though your voice is more fond than frustrated.
“five more minutes,” he pleads again, his hand tracing lazy patterns on your back. “please?”
you let out a long, exaggerated sigh, but the way his arms tighten around you makes your heart flutter. “fine. five more minutes.”
his smile is triumphant, though it quickly softens into something tender. “thank you," he adds, "i'll make it up to you," he promises, his voice a quiet hum as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “but for now... just stay.”
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mejaemin · 22 days ago
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could you do prompt 12 with wonwoo for your svt event? if it’s still open ofc!!! have a good day <33
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wonwoo + feeding them
warnings: fluff, princess wonu, kissing, slightly suggestive at the end an: i love silly cheeky wonwoo i need him so bad 😕 and thank u anon for being so sweet in your request 🫶🏽🫶🏽
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the third time you hear your name from the bedroom, you groan, getting up and stomping over to the cause of the sound. wonwoo’s tiredly smiling up at you from the bed, wrapped up in all the blankets.
“oh, baby, i’m so starving..” he starts, using all the theatrics like it would actually make you do anything.
“hm, yeah, well sleeping until six can do that to you, honey.” you stay right where you are, unimpressed, hands resting on your hips.
his bottom lip juts out the tiniest bit as he pouts at you, “can you please have at least a little bit of sympathy..? staying up until three to be beaten at valorant by my own student is really heartbreaking..” he mumbles, staring in his lap sullenly.
you sigh, getting on the bed and crawling up until you lean over him. with knuckles grazing his cheek, you watch a sleepy smile break through, “oh, my poor nonu.. i guess i should get you a pity meal then, hm? is that what you want?”
he nods, “mhm. that sounds so nice..” he pulls you down on top of him, wrapping his arms around you tightly, “i feel like i deserve some other form of compensation as well..”
you pretend to think, but the spot his line of sight lands on gives him away. with a giggle, you lean down, lips pressed against him for a sweet kiss. his hand finds your cheek to hold you there, lips smacking as he keeps going in, again and again.
you pull away, out of breath, cheeks a dusty pink. “are you trying to butter me up, or what? what do you want from me, jeon wonwoo?”
he chuckles, sweet little giggles escaping his lips, “i think my hands are broken, i won’t be able to eat by myself..”
“yeah, okay.”
❀⋆.ೃ࿔
you’re back in your room with a bowl of ramen, sitting directly across from wonwoo as you hold the chopsticks up to his lips. it took nearly thirty minutes to prepare it, bickering with him over facetime as he ordered you around on how to season it from the bedroom. you’re lucky i love you became your most used statement of he day as he milked every inch of his princess treatment.
he happily takes a bite, swallowing it whole with a hum. “tasty,” he says, in that signature deep voice, and you can’t help but laugh despite being (playfully) annoyed.
“oh, you’re soooo funny..” you grumble, picking up more noodles for him to continue eating.
“stop acting like you don’t love it. like you don’t love me..” he says, voice light as he keeps his eyes locked on yours, leaning forward to eat the food you hold out to him.
“i don’t!” you say, smiling.
suddenly he takes the bowl from you, setting it on the end table. “oh, it seems my hands have started working again. maybe i can remind you just how much you love me?”
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1 to 13 🏷️ @markkiatocafe @ateez-atiny380
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hoshifighting · 9 months ago
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      wonwoo!best friend's brother
— your best friend's older brother, the guy who dropped out of university a long time ago but still shows up once in a while at your and your best friend's dorm. the thing is, she's in a tutoring class right now, leaving you and him alone after all these years of having a huge crush on him.
WARNINGS: +18, smut, making out, almost getting caught, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, blowjob, spiting.
KINKTOBER MASTERLIST
you hear the door click as you wipe down the last bit of the counter, the smell of cleaning products lingering in the air. wonwoo’s here again—because of course, he is. once a year, like clockwork, he pulls up outside your dorm building, car keys in hand, sipping some energy drink like he’s the busiest man alive, even though he’s been out of university for, what? two years now? maybe more. it’s almost funny, how he thinks showing up in his beat-up car, leaning against the doorframe, makes him look cool.
your best friend’s not even here. she’s in some tutoring session because she "really needs to pass this bio class." but, of course, she told you, warned you, that wonwoo might drop by.
“hey,” he says, leaning against the doorframe like some kind of model, downing a sip from the can like it's giving him more life than it should.
“she’s not here,” you say, wiping your hands on your shorts. you’re pretending like you’re not even thinking about the way they’re barely covering anything right now. it’s just cleaning clothes, but you catch his eyes flick down for half a second, and your heart skips a beat.
“oh? what, she ditch me or something?” he teases, eyes sparkling with that casual cockiness he always carries around.
you laugh, shaking your head. “nah, she’s at a tutoring session. bio, i think? she’s stressing hard. she said she’d be back in a couple hours, so you can wait if you want... or leave. i won’t stop you.”
“tutoring? she actually studying? i thought she gave that up ages ago,” he snickers, leaning against the couch, tapping his foot like he’s been there forever. “reminds me of my sister, always freaking out about school... only she actually tries.”
you snort, rolling your eyes. “yeah, well, not everyone’s like you, mister ‘dropped out but still thinks he runs the place.’”
“i’m just here for the vibes,” he shrugs, eyes settling on you for a little too long, way too comfortable. way too focused. “plus, i wouldn’t call it ‘dropping out’... i just, y’know, found my path elsewhere.”
you shake your head, pretending not to care. but fuck, that grin? dangerous. absolutely dangerous. the guy is too good-looking for his own good, and the fact that he’s here, all casual like he’s just dropping by, is making your heart race in a way you’re desperately trying to ignore. and those eyes—yeah, you can feel him looking at you.
you turn, grabbing a water from the fridge to cool down because jesus, he’s looking right through you. you twist the cap and take a long gulp, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks, trying to play it cool.
“you good?” his voice cuts through the silence. casual, like it’s no big deal.
you choke a little on the water and turn around, trying not to look flustered. “yeah, yeah. why wouldn’t i be?”
he raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “dunno, just... you’re kinda tense. cleaning stress?”
you laugh it off, but the sound’s more nervous than you want it to be. “something like that.”
fuck, why is this so hard?
he takes another sip of his red bull, his eyes flicking over your legs again, slower this time. it’s like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and you’re just... standing there, pretending you don’t feel it, but inside, you’re absolutely losing your mind. freaking out.
“you always this... jumpy around me?” he asks, smirking like he already knows the answer.
“shut up,” you toss a dish towel at him, more as a distraction for you than him, but he catches it easily, his grin widening.
“what, can’t take a little teasing? you’ve been dodging my questions all day.”
all day? he’s been here for twenty minutes. still, your stomach flips at the way he’s just standing there, so confident, so sure. it’s unfair how hot he is when he’s like this, leaning against the counter, arms crossed like he’s just waiting for you to crack.
“i’m not dodging anything,” you lie, crossing your arms, even though you know your face is giving you away. “you’re just being annoying.”
“am i?” he steps closer, his voice dropping slightly. “or am i just... distracting you?”
“wonwoo,” you start, your heart’s pounding, your skin tingling. “don’t.”
“don’t what?” he’s closer now, and fuck, he’s standing way too close, his breath brushing your cheek as he leans in. “i’m just talking, y/n.”
just talking, but the way his eyes drop to your lips says otherwise, and you’re not sure how much longer you can pretend this isn’t happening.
you’ve never been this close to him before, and it’s making your pulse race, your head spin. his hand hovers near your hip, like he’s waiting for permission, waiting for you to crack. it’s not fair how good he smells.
“you used to play dolls with my sister, you know,” he mutters, his lips brushing your ear. “now look at you.”
his fingers graze your waist, light at first, but the way his eyes lock on yours? there’s no going back. you shiver, heat pooling in your gut, and his hand slips lower, gripping the curve of your ass like it belongs to him. he laughs softly when you gasp, his other hand trailing up your side, fingers brushing the thin fabric of your top.
“wonwoo, you can’t just—” your words cut off as he cups your tit, thumb running over your nipple through your shirt, the sensation making your knees go weak. it’s so subtle, but you feel everything—his breath on your neck, the rough texture of his palm, the way his body presses against yours like he can’t stand the distance anymore.
“what? can’t just what?” his voice is low, mocking, as he leans down, his lips inches from yours. “you’ve been staring at me like that for years, y/n. you think i didn’t notice?”
your brain short-circuits as he presses his mouth to yours, starting slow, teasing, like he’s waiting for you to snap. and when you kiss him back—hard, desperate, craving more—he groans against your lips, his tongue immediately slipping past them. he sucks on your tongue like he’s savoring the taste, his hand squeezing your ass, pulling you closer as you try to remember how to breathe. it’s wet, sloppy, and so fucking messy, the sound of your lips meeting, tongues sliding against each other, filling the small kitchen.
you moan into his mouth, gripping his shirt, trying to keep up with the way he devours you, his other hand now fully under your shirt, palming your bare tit. it’s so much—too much, and you arch into his touch, losing yourself in the heat of it all.
and then you hear it.
keys, fumbling at the front door. shit.
you push him away so fast he stumbles back, eyes wide, lips shiny and swollen from your kiss. his fingers are still brushing his bottom lip, eyes flicking to the door in disbelief as the knob turns.
“fuck,” you whisper, trying to catch your breath, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, but you can’t stop shaking. you dart back to the sink, pretending to scrub some nonexistent spot, heart racing a mile a minute.
the door flies open, and your best friend bursts in, barely even noticing the two of you. “i forgot this fucking book,” she mutters, rummaging through her stuff on the couch. her back is to you both, and wonwoo’s standing there, hands in his pockets, trying his best to look casual.
he smirks at you, and you glare back, your mind racing, heart pounding. does she know? she can’t know.
“you two good?” she asks, barely glancing your way as she grabs her stuff. “i’ll be back in like, fifteen minutes. sorry. tutor’s gonna kill me if i don’t bring this. see you in a sec.” and just like that, she’s gone again, the door slamming shut behind her.
the second the door clicks, wonwoo bursts out laughing, dragging a hand through his hair, and your face is burning.
“did you just shove me away?” he teases, stepping closer again, his hands now resting on the counter behind you, trapping you. “scared of getting caught, huh?”
you shove at his chest, but you’re laughing too. “you’re insane. she could’ve seen us, you idiot.”
“what, and ruin the fun?” he grins, biting his bottom lip, and your stomach flips at the sight. “you should’ve just let her. i think she’d approve.”
you roll your eyes, but before you can say anything else, his mouth is on yours again—rougher this time, more desperate. it’s like he’s making up for lost time, kissing you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted, hands roaming over your body like he’s been dying to touch you. you’re pressed back against the counter, trapped between him and the hard surface, and it feels so fucking good.
“wonwoo, the couch,” you murmur between kisses, pushing at his chest just enough to make him move. he gets the hint, pulling you toward the couch, his hand never leaving your waist, never giving you a chance to breathe.
the second your back hits the cushions, he’s on you again, kissing you so hard it leaves you dizzy, his hands wandering everywhere—your thighs, your waist, your tits. he’s fucking everywhere, and you can’t think, can’t breathe, all you can feel is him, everywhere.
his fingers slide under the waistband of your shorts, teasing the edge, but you grab his wrist, pulling him back. “not yet,” you whisper, eyes locked on his. “let me…”
you trail off, sliding off the couch, sinking to your knees between his legs. wonwoo’s eyes widen, the teasing smirk on his face replaced with pure shock. “wait—”
“shh,” you murmur, already tugging at his belt, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. your mouth waters at the sight of him, long, hard and already dripping. you can’t help but smirk up at him before leaning in, taking him into your mouth in all in once, in the most greedy way.
wonwoo groans, his head falling back against the couch, his fingers threading through your hair as you start to move. you take him like your favorite popsicle, hollowing your cheeks, loving the way his hips buck up into your mouth, the way he can’t control the sounds he’s making.
he pants, his voice strained, and it only spurs you on, sucking harder, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him all the way down again. the sound of your mouth, wet and sloppy, fills the room, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.
he tightens his grip in your hair, guiding you as he thrusts into your mouth, his eyes squeezing shut as he moans your name again, louder this time. you can feel him getting close, his thrusts making you gag slighty, his hips jerking up more urgently.
“fuck, i’m—” he chokes out, but before he can finish, his hips stutter, and he comes with a loud groan, spilling into your mouth. you swallow every drop, not slowing down until he’s completely spent.
you pull back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, grinning up at him.
his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back on his lap. “c’mere,” he mutters. and before you know it, his lips are on yours again, urgent, like he needs to taste you all over again. the mix of your spit and his cum lingers, and when his tongue swipes along the side of your mouth, to catch more of the taste of him.
his hands slide down to your shorts, fingers curling around the waistband like they’ve been itching to take them off from the second he walked in. you flinch when he pulls them off, showing your panties. his fingers brush against it, and then pulling to the side, and you’re already losing it, but then he spits.
right on your pussy.
you tense when two fingers slide inside you rough, curling just the way you like—coincidentally. you clench around him, moaning, but it’s not enough. you need more, and he knows it.
“so fucking wet for me,” he groans, his other hand pushing your legs open wider. “you’ve wanted this for how long, huh? wanted me to fuck you like this?”
you can’t even answer, your brain is mush, overwhelmed by the way his fingers pump in and out of you, quick and dirty, making you arch into his touch. and then—without warning—he pulls his fingers out and lines himself up, slipping inside you so easily, you gasp.
he’s still sensitive, you can tell by the way his breath catches, how his hips jerk forward a little too fast, but the way his dick stretches you out? it’s perfect. too perfect. your eyes roll back, a shaky moan leaving your lips as he starts thrusting, slow at first, like he’s trying to control himself, but that doesn’t last long.
you’re in his lap, legs spread, every little reaction of his face right there in front of you—the way his eyes squeeze shut, his mouth falling open, all the little groans and curses spilling from him as he fucks into you. it’s like he can’t hold back anymore, can’t resist, but still needs to fuck you, to please you.
he lays you, grabs your knees, pulls them up to your chest, bending you in half so he can get even deeper. the angle’s brutal, his cock hitting that sweet spot with every rough thrust, and the room’s filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, his low grunts, your breathless moans.
you’re a wreck under him, fingers clutching at the couch cushions, barely able to keep up with the way he’s pounding into you. his thrusts are rough, fast, almost desperate, like he’s chasing something he can’t quite reach, and every time he slams into you, your whole body shakes.
“wonwoo—fuck, i’m—” you try to warn him, but the words don’t come out right. everything’s too much—the way his hands hold you down, the way he’s fucking you so deep, the pressure building low in your belly until you’re falling apart. you clench around him, your orgasm ripping through you hard, your back arching off the couch as you moan his name.
he watches you, watching that smile on your face, that one that you have when you win a prize, how satisfied you look by being fucked—especially by him, how your eyes roll in ecstasy, nd how you spasm around his cock. is enough for him.
and then it’s over. you’re both panting, bodies spent. he pulls out slowly, leaving you feeling empty. you’re barely conscious as he reaches over, grabbing the nearest blanket and draping it over you, his touch surprisingly gentle for how hard he just fucked you.
“don’t move,” he mutters, smirking at you as he gets up, still zipping up his jeans. “you look good like this.”
you’re too tired to respond, sinking deeper into the couch, eyes half-closed. the door opens again—shit—and your best friend barges in, completely unaware of what just happened.
“ugh finally,” she mutters, tossing it onto the table. “you two good?”
he just grins, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb as he leans against the counter, casual as hell. “just keeping y/n company, we were waiting for you” he says, winking at you when your best friend isn’t looking.
you’re still sprawled out on the couch, barely able to move, trying to act normal, like you weren’t just fucked within an inch of your life, like you weren't just fucked with jeon wonwoo. your best friend glances between the two of you, raising an eyebrow, but she doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re completely knocked out.
“whatever,” she mutters, grabbing her stuff. “i’m going to take a bath.”
the door of the bathroom slams shut, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. wonwoo walks back over to you, chuckling softly as he sits down beside you, leaning in to kiss your forehead, the teasing smirk never leaving his face.
“you should’ve seen your face when she walked in,” he murmurs, his voice low. “but don’t worry. you looked so innocent.”
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nothoughtsjustfic · 3 months ago
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Whatever You Want [Part One] - J.WW
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💎Who: Jeon Wonwoo (Seventeen) x female reader 💎What: Mafia/gang au. Dark themes (check warnings). Angst. Fluff. Humour. Strangers to friends to lovers. Suggestive (18+).  💎Word count: 17.7k for part one. 31.8k total 💎Warnings: Kidnapping. Violence. Injury and blood. Morally grey characters. Joke about drugs. Alcohol consumption (nobody gets drunk at all). Suggestive dialogue. Wonwoo is a handful of years older than reader. 💎Summary: “To be honest, you’re surprised it’s taken this long to happen. Truly, you thought you would’ve been kidnapped years ago, so you’re not surprised when it happens.
What does surprise you, however, is the reason why, and what happens when you meet that reason.”
Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.
Masterlist Part Two
A/N- Part two will be available April 24th. Thank you to @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading and helping me out with the warnings! I appreciate you endlessly, my love 💗
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It’s typical, really; the one time you actually have cash on you to give to the homeless man you’ve befriended, who always waits around for you to finish work, you don’t get the chance to give it to him. 
Just like every night when you’re done closing up the restaurant, you see Sangmin waiting on the other side of the road, sitting patiently on the bench there, ready to walk you home. 
You wave at him as you near the edge of the path, one hand carefully holding the takeout container of a freshly made double serving of his favourite meal that you cook at the restaurant. Sangmin gets up from the bench with a bright smile, always so happy to see you, and waves, making you smile just as brightly, even if you’re exhausted from the long hours cooking away in the kitchen. But Sangmin always cheers you up. 
He’s such an upbeat guy despite his unfavourable circumstances, and you genuinely enjoy these walks home listening to him tell you about his day and telling him about yours in return. You can’t wait to hear if he made a new friend at the dog park today, where he likes to hang around and offer to play with the dogs of the elderly folk who can’t run or throw balls and sticks for their pets. Sometimes, the owners even give him some cash in return or buy him a coffee or ice cream from the stands, weather permitting. It’s a reminder that there is still good in this shitty world.
Just as you’re about to cross the street, a couple of cars get close enough that you remain in place to let them pass and intend to cross after they’re gone, when it’s safe.
The chance doesn’t come as both cars suddenly swerve to pull up in front of you, making you take a few steps back as you stare at the vehicles suspiciously. The engines don’t turn off, and the doors on the side closest to you open to allow masked, suited men to get out. 
“Shit,” you curse under your breath and hold your free hand up as they approach. “Wait, wait, wait!” You exclaim, kicking out as they reach out to you with clearly every intention of stealing you away. “I said wait!” You glance over to Sangmin as you hear him yelling your name, voice getting closer. “Stay there, Sangmin!” You warn loudly. “Stay out of this!” You crouch, still with your free hand up so that you can put the container on the floor. “Okay, I’ll go with you, just leave him alone,” you inform and let out a breath of relief when the bulky man directly in front of you stops trying to reach towards you and signals his men to wait. “Give me a sec, seriously, I’ll go,” you promise and shuffle aside to peer around to where Sangmin is being held back by a couple of the men. “It’ll be okay, Sangmin. Enjoy your dinner, okay. I’ll see you soon.” 
Sangmin murmurs your name brokenly, clearly not trusting these men to bring you safely back, and honestly, neither do you. But he stops struggling to get to you and stumbles back when the men let him go with a little shove to create more space. “Be safe,” he pleads as you follow the men to get into the closest car. 
“You too.” You give him a soft smile before you’re in the car between two burly men and the door is shut. You want to watch Sangmin as the car pulls away, want to see him pick up his meal so you know he will eat well, at least tonight, but you can’t. Just as you turn your head to watch through the rear window, something sharp jabs into your leg. You yelp, turning to look down at the culprit and find a needle stuck in your leg. “You asshole,” you mutter. 
Moments later, you’re unconscious.
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Something about this woman is familiar to you, but you really can’t tell what it is. It doesn’t help that her cronies have given you one swollen eye, and the other eye’s vision is blurred with blood that trickles down from your split eyebrow. 
Whoever this woman is, though, she clearly doesn’t want to get her own hands dirty, even if she looks very pleased with the bruised and bleeding state of you.
“Okay, okay,” you groan once you’ve caught your breath from the round of beating you’ve just received. “I give. Who the fuck are you?” You question, peering at her.
Despite not being able to see her clearly, you can see the way her whole posture changes; from smug to dumb, offended shock. “Who am I?” 
“Yes; who are you?” You repeat, almost rolling your eyes. 
“How dare you?!” She stalks over and one of her men grabs a fistful of your hair from where he stands behind you, to make you look up at her as she leers over you. “I am the most powerful woman in this whole city!” 
“Pretty sure I’d know who you are if that’s true,” you retort and choke out a laugh when she finally hits you herself; an open-handed slap that drags the multiple rings on her fingers across your already bruised cheek, drawing shallow gouges in your skin. 
“How dare-!” She starts to screech, yet the door opening behind her cuts her off as she looks over. 
Curiously, you look over too, and the tall man who enters looks vaguely familiar to you too. At least, the leather jacket and glasses he’s wearing do because he’s too far away for you to make out clearly.
“What the fuck is going on here?” He demands. 
Ah, you recognise his deep voice and suddenly understand why he’s familiar to you. He’s a regular at the restaurant and favours the same dish as Sangmin, though this guy worked his way through the entire menu before settling on that particular one. 
You’ve only talked to him a few times, when it’s late enough that the wait staff have already been sent home, but the owners always stay open for this guy; meaning, if they’re busy, you have to deliver his meal to him. He always compliments your cooking and thanks you genuinely, but other than that, you’ve never said much to one another. Other than last Christmas when he asked if you would consider making him something special off menu and gave you a wad of cash to sweeten you up. 
Even before the suspicious stack of cash was handed to you, you just knew in your gut that this guy is in shady dealings and seeing him walk into this room and not even flinch at the battered condition of you, it only confirms it.
“Teaching your little whore a lesson,” the woman sneers and turns back to you. “She needs to learn that she can’t get away with touching what’s mine.”
“I still don’t know who the fuck you are,” you point out. 
Just as her hand is about to come down to connect with your cheek again, the newcomer grabs her wrist. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he warns. “She’s not done shit wrong. I’ve told you before that I’ve never fucking cheated on you. She’s just a fucking cook.” 
“Don’t lie to me, Jeon Wonwoo,” she hisses.
“Don’t be fucking delusional, Ahn Yerim,” he retorts and looks at the man behind you. “Untie her.”
“Sir, Miss Ahn said-” the thug starts, yet shuts up and releases his grip on your hair when Wonwoo glares. The man behind you quickly moves to untie your arms and legs from the chair.
“You don’t listen to him! You listen to me! You both work for me!” Yerim exclaims.
“We work for your father, not you, sweetheart,” Wonwoo reminds and lets her go to approach you and carefully help you up. “Come on,” he encourages as he puts his arm around your waist to support you. 
“I am your wife! Treat me with the respect I deserve!” 
“I treat you with more than you deserve,” Wonwoo grumbles as he pretty much half carries you out of the room. You’re trying to walk, but they had tied your ankles to the chair legs so tightly that your feet are sparkling painfully with every dragging step as the blood rushes back in. “Did they break your legs?” He wonders concernedly as he stops and adjusts his left arm behind your back as you grip onto his shoulders for stability.
“No, extreme pins and needles.” He makes a noise of understanding and sweeps you up into his arms, hooking his right arm under your thighs to carry you.
“Do me a favour and shut your eyes; you shouldn’t see where we are.”
“Can’t see the gang HQ?” You muse, and snigger when he glances at you with a flat look. “Alright, whatever, Mr Jeon Wonwoo.” Obligingly, you shut your eyes and decide to lean your head against his broad shoulder and rest a little. 
“What’s your name?” He wonders. 
“Don’t even know the name of the woman your wife accused you of cheating with?” He sighs, making you snigger again before you tell him your name, which he only hums at. “Your wife is a real fucking bitch, you know?” 
The sigh he lets out sounds like he more than knows how true those words are.
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Instead of taking you home, or back to the restaurant, or a hospital, or a random fucking street corner to leave you to figure out your way from there, Wonwoo drives to the outskirts of the city; to a building site that you know got abandoned after only one block of fancy apartments were built. The company, who still owns the land, had a lot of issues with permits and tried to sell the project on, yet no-one wanted to take over from their immense fuck up, so it’s been abandoned for at least a year now.
At least, you thought it was, but perhaps Wonwoo likes to take advantage of the lack of witnesses at the edge of the city and bury his victims here. It’d be a smart move. There doesn’t seem to be any security around; even the road leading to the site is far enough out of the way that there are no traffic cameras along the stretch. 
“I hope you don’t like burying your victims alive,” you murmur as you eye the abandoned building materials still piled up along the partially finished, dust covered road you’re travelling down.
“What?” Wonwoo glances over at you but you’re staring out of the window with a displeased pout. “I’m not going to fucking bury you alive.”
“Ah, good, I’m in the firm belief I would not enjoy that at all.” 
“You… No, I don’t think you would. I don’t think anyone would.”
“I dunno, some people are into some shit, Wonwoo. You’d be surprised.” You look over at him and notice a strange expression cross his features. It’s one you’re familiar with from other people and know it means they’re suddenly questioning their decision to be in close proximity to you.
After shaking his head slightly and letting out a strong exhale as he looks back to where he’s driving, Wonwoo speaks again. “Look, I didn’t bring you here to kill you, but to protect you.” 
“What?” 
“My wife is a fucking psycho. You saw that, and I know she’ll have people looking for you to steal you away again. So, I’m putting you in one of my safe houses so she can’t do that. Understand?”
“She doesn’t know about this safe house?”
Wonwoo scoffs and shakes his head. “No. She doesn’t know about any of them. Nobody does; just me. You’ll be safe here, trust me.”
“I really don’t think trust comes into this, more like I don’t have a fucking choice.”
“That too,” he confirms simply. 
There’s nothing more that can be said on the topic, so you both remain silent for the last short section of the drive. Even when Wonwoo parks up in the underground parking of the only complete building, then leads you into the lift up to an apartment on the sixth floor, neither of you say a word.
That changes when you step into the apartment and look at the sparse décor for the modern apartment. “Wow, a true minimalist, aren’t you?” You muse, glancing at the sofa you can see from the entrance hall, then over to the kitchen perfectly within view due to the open layout of the bottom floor of the apartment. There’s a glass staircase on the other side of the living area, with a short hallway behind it, but other than that, there truly is not much to look at.
“It’s just a safe house; it’s supposed to be functional, nothing more.” 
“How can you function in such a lifeless place?” 
Wonwoo sighs and nudges you from behind, so you’ll move out of the way and let him pad across the expensive marble-look flooring in his socks to the kitchen. “Just take your shoes off and get your ass over here.”
After putting his shoes neatly aside and putting your own next to them, you shuffle over to the kitchen and perch yourself on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, where he’s rummaging through an extensive medical kit, which you hadn’t even seen him procure. 
“Got the good stuff?” You joke, leaning over to peer into the bag. “Wait, is that morphine?” You gasp, reaching for the packet of pills, but he slaps your hand away. 
“You don’t need morphine.”
“I’m in pain, Wonwoo,” you try, pouting at him, but he gives you a disbelieving look. “Ow.”
“You can have ibuprofen or paracetamol.”
“What kind of a gang member won’t give the good stuff?” You huff and turn away to peer at the kitchen. Honestly, you don’t even want morphine. You just wanted to see if he would give it to you, but you have your answer now and have no reason to push it. 
“Are you an addict?” 
“No, just bored.” 
“So, you want drugs?”
“No. Just seeing how you’d react.” 
“You’re very fucking weird, you know?” 
“Yes,” you confirm and look at him before pointing to the fridge. “I’m guessing that’s empty?” 
“Yeah, there’s long life stuff in the cupboards though, some military rations and instant ramen.” 
“Good ol’ instant ramen.” 
He just hums, then finally has everything he wants from the kit set up on the counter. “Alright, face me; let me get a look at the damage.” Obediently, you turn on the stool to face him as he moves closer while removing his jacket to toss onto the counter, leaving him a simple black t-shirt and jeans. 
“How come you’re not in a suit like those assholes?” 
“I’m off the clock.” 
“Then why did you turn up?” 
“My wife sent me a video of them beating you,” he informs, gently turning your head from side to side with one hand on your jaw delicately, to not aggravate the bruises on your skin. “Couldn’t let her do that to an innocent person.” 
“Aw, how noble of you, Mr. Thug.” 
“Not a thug.” 
“Mm, sure.” 
“I’m not.” 
“I’ve seen your bruised knuckles when you’ve come into the restaurant, Wonwoo, the split lips and bruised cheeks. Even seen the outline of your weapon under your clothes. By that, I mean your gun.” 
“What else could you mean?” You just giggle, and he sighs, understanding the euphemism, though he doesn’t grace you with a further reaction, not wanting to focus on that subject at all. “Don’t make me regret saving you.”
“No promises.” 
Despite his stern expression and stiff posture, Wonwoo is gentle as he tends to your wounds attentively; talking as softly in his low voice as he can to warn you when he’s about to do something that might sting or asking you to move in various ways to give him better access. 
“Alright, all done,” he declares sometime later when he straightens up and steps back from you, eyes still darting over your seated form for any wounds he’s missed.
“Thanks.”
“Mm, my fault anyway.”
“It is,” you agree, earning an unimpressed look from the man before he turns to start tidying up. “Is there anything to drink?” 
“The tap water is safe,” he informs before opening one of the cupboards to pull out two glasses, which he fills from the cold tap then puts one on the counter in front of you. “I’ll get groceries in tomorrow. Write a list of whatever you want or need for the next week.”
“I’ve got to stay here for a week? I have a job, you know,” you point out before gratefully picking up the glass to gulp down the contents as he finishes cleaning up, his own glass of water barely touched. 
“I know. Write a resignation and I’ll post it through the door tomorrow.” 
“I don’t want to resign! I like that job!”
“They won’t hold out until you’re back, and I don’t know when that will be yet. We need to wait it out until my wife has given up tormenting you.”
“How long will that be?” 
“No fucking clue, she’s been tormenting me for years.”
“I don’t understand why people stay with someone they don’t love anymore.” 
Wonwoo doesn’t respond, and you think this is one of those circumstances where it’s really not your place to push, so you drop the topic.
Once Wonwoo is done cleaning up, including both of your drinking glasses, he leads you upstairs to one of the bedrooms. To your surprise, it looks fully furnished, even if there’s not any décor, but it’s more liveable than downstairs.
“Wow, a dresser and TV,” you whistle, eyeing the items as Wonwoo pulls the bedding off of the large bed. 
“It came partially furnished,” he explains. 
“There’s no TV in the living room.”
“I said partially.” 
“Weird they put a TV in the bedroom before the living room.” 
“The sockets are all there, they just didn’t get around to it. They were going to get custom TVs made for all the apartment living rooms, but didn’t get the chance before the project got shut down.” 
“I didn’t know anyone bought an apartment.” 
“Bought is a stretch,” he muses, piling the stale bedding by the door before grabbing another set from a drawer under the bed to sniff at, then shrugs and starts to make the bed.
“Is this technically squatting?”
“No.” He huffs a short laugh. “It’s my apartment, just more of a gift. The whole building is mine.”
“Ooh, check you out, Mr fancy property owner.” You move over to help fix the fitted sheet to the mattress, earning a grateful nod from the man. “What did you do to get this gift?”
“Let the CEO keep his life.”
“And he only gave you a single building in an unfinished building site? The audacity! If he values his life that much, he should’ve given you a lot more.”
“He offered me any building of his I wanted, he owns a lot in the city centre too, but I asked for this; I knew it’s out of the way. He promised to not try hard to get the site up and running again, so I’ll have privacy. Which, to me, is the most valuable thing anyway.”
“Mm, fair,” you concede and work alongside him to finish setting up the bed. 
“I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere. The front door is already locked, and you won’t be able to unlock it. You can’t leave, so don’t bother trying,” he warns seriously before turning and leaving the bedroom. 
With a sigh, you perch on the edge of the bed and wait, rubbing your feet over the fluffy rug below you, to twist your socks around and around your feet in boredom until he returns.
It’s almost ten minutes before he returns with a pile of fabrics in his arms and a basket of what looks like toiletries, with a toilet roll perched on top. 
“You look like a maid,” you comment amusedly. 
Wonwoo just sighs then puts the items on the bed. “Here, bathroom stuff. I’ll get you scents you like tomorrow, but you’ll have to use mine for now.” He hands you the basket, so you look at the toiletries curiously, popping the caps to sniff the contents and making pleased sounds.
“I like these.”
“Okay, saves me buying toiletries tomorrow.”
“I need sanitary items.” He looks at you. “My period is due soon.”
“Ah.” He blinks at you a few times dumbly before nodding. “Okay, just write down what you want, and I’ll get it.” 
“Sounds like a plan; you know, provided you give me something to do that with.” 
“Oh, right.” He chews on his lip thoughtfully before sighing and moving around to sit beside you as he pulls his phone from his pocket to unlock. “You’ll have to write it in a note on my phone, but I can’t let you use my phone blindly, so I’m going to watch.” 
“Understandable,” you agree, accepting the device once he has his notes app open on a blank note, so that you can start typing out a list of items for him to buy at the shop tomorrow. 
“Write your clothing sizes too. I have limited clothes myself here and just gave you one set to wear to bed. Oh, put detergent down, there isn’t any here. Put the brand if you’re particular about that stuff.”
“Nah, I’m good with whatever smells good and does the job,” you assure, while typing down ‘laundry detergent (nice smelling one)’. “Are there cleaning supplies?” 
“I’ll get more,” he promises then motions to the list, so you write it down.
Although it should not be this easy to sit side by side and make a grocery list together, it is. It’s domestic, even, in a very, very, very weird fucking way. The man’s wife is out for your blood, due to her own delusional accusations against the pair of you, yet you’re sitting here making a grocery list together as if you’re actually roommates who regularly do this. Very strange indeed. 
“Alright, that’s all I can think of,” you decide, after looking over the surprisingly extensive list one last time, before handing his phone back.  
“I’ll go shopping in the morning before work,” he declares as he gets up and tucks his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll let you get some sleep now; you must be tired after all this shit.” 
“Kinda pretty awake, actually. Does the TV work?”
“Should do, the one in my room works at least. There’s no Wi-Fi here though, so it’s just satellite channels.”
“If this one doesn’t work, we’re swapping rooms.”
“No,” he replies in a firm tone before exiting the room, pulling the door up behind him and leaving you in silence.
“Well, fuck you too,” you mutter and get up to use the bathroom.  You change into the sweatpants and t-shirt he left for you before climbing into the slightly dusty smelling bed to turn on the TV. 
Although you aren’t tired when you climb into bed, that quickly changes as you curl up under the covers with your eyes on the 90’s rom com playing on the TV, soon lulling you into a dreamless sleep.
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In the morning, or whatever time it is when you tiredly trudge downstairs, you discover that Wonwoo is a man of his word. 
There are various bags of shopping in the kitchen, all full of items from the shopping list. From clothes in the sizes that you wrote down, to perhaps far too many packets of sanitary towels; it seems that either Wonwoo has no idea how periods really work, or he intends to keep you for longer than just this cycle length. Either way, he listened and must’ve really tried hard to get everything on the list, with no regard to his financial state, as every piece of clothing has a brand name attached, not just cheap stuff from a superstore like you had expected him to buy. 
Although you genuinely would be okay with the cheap stuff, and never quite see the appeal in such expensive clothing for daily wear, you appreciate it and make a mental note to thank him when you next see him.
A few minutes later, when you’re done perusing the contents of the bags and have moved to the fridge, you finally notice the brand-new magnetic whiteboard on the front with a note scrawled in black ink from Wonwoo. 
It’s simple; just him telling you that he will be back in a few days to check on you, while also reminding you to not try to leave the apartment and also keep out of his room. You had no intention of going into Wonwoo's room, but now that he’s told you not to, you kind of want to.
For now, you just focus on making yourself something to eat before taking the shopping bags up to your room to make yourself at home for the foreseeable future.
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It’s only been two days since Wonwoo left you all alone and you’re already so bored and restless that the moment you hear the beep of the lock disengaging on the front door, you’re rushing over from the kitchen to greet him like an excitable puppy. 
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He mutters with a bewildered frown as you crowd close and peer up at him. 
“I’m bored, Wonwoo,” you whine, eyes flickering over his tired features. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” You finally back out of his personal space and take the bag from his hands as he works on removing his shoes and leather jacket, suit beneath today. The contents of the bag clinks as you take it, making you peer inside curiously. “Are you planning to mix wine and whiskey?” You wonder.
“No, just didn’t know what you’d prefer.”
“So, you bought wine for me?”
“No, that’s mine. I thought you’d be a whiskey girl, seem like the type to like the burn.” 
“Ha,” you snigger. “You got me, but I’ll drink anything.” You take the bag into the kitchen, where you had been starting to make yourself dinner. “Hungry?”
“Fucking starving,” he confirms when he follows you a moment later, unbuttoning his suit jacket to remove and toss onto the dining table carelessly, eyes on the ingredients you have laid out on the kitchen island. 
“Pour out,” you say, pointing to the wine bottle on the counter as you focus on getting extra ingredients out to cover Wonwoo’s portion too. He just hums and moves around to get out the wine glasses from the cupboard and corkscrew from the drawer.
As you cook, Wonwoo sits at the breakfast bar, head propped on his left fist and wine glass he’s slowly emptying, in his right. He hasn’t said a word since sitting down, just watches you work, and you’re honestly not even sure he’s entirely present. He looks like he could fall asleep any second, and you don’t think the wine he’s drinking is helping.
“Hey,” you call, tossing the cork, from where it lays on the counter, at him. He jerks back when it hits him on his forehead. He blinks at you dumbly, eyebrows furrowed in displeased surprise while you cackle at his expression. “You look like you’re going to fall asleep upright.”
“I’m fine,” he argues and drinks the last of the contents of his glass before reaching for the bottle to refill his glass, then your own, even if yours is still basically full. 
“Bullshit.”
“Just focus on the fucking food.”
“Mm, alright, but if you fall asleep, I’m eating your share too.”
“Do that, and I’ll take you right back to my wife and let her do whatever the fuck she wants with you,” he warns, entirely serious. 
“Wow,” you mutter, eyebrows raising as you take in the dangerous tint in his eyes. “You’re serious about your food, huh?”
“Only when it’s your cooking.” 
“Damn, you must be sleep deprived to say shit like that.” 
He sighs and slumps a little in his seat as he realises that you’re right. “It’s why she thinks I’m fucking you.” 
“What?”
“Because I eat your cooking, go out of my way to eat it, and I never eat hers.”
“Ah, yes,” you hum, a sarcastic edge to your voice. “That age old saying; the way to man’s bed is through his stomach.” 
Wonwoo lets out a chuckle and leans back on his fist as his eyes tiredly track your movements. “Knowing her dumbass, she actually thinks that’s right.” 
“It obviously wasn’t her method.”
“She can’t cook for shit. It’s no wonder I don’t eat it.” His expression turns disgusted. “Even I cook better than her, and I can’t cook shit either.”
“That’s fucked up man; everyone should be able to cook at least two decent meals.” 
“Never needed to and don’t exactly have the chance to learn how. She thinks she’s some kind of trophy wife and won’t let me in the kitchen to try.” He sighs and lets go of his glass to free his right hand so that he can rub at his eyes under his glasses. “She knows I’m hiding you, won’t stop fucking bugging me. Can’t get a minute’s fucking peace in that house at the moment.”
“Ah, that’s why you look like you haven’t been sleeping.”
“She doesn’t shut the fuck up when I’m there, so I’ve been avoiding it as much as possible. But at the end of the day, she’s my wife, so I can only avoid her so much.”
“Wild thought right here, but have you considered a divorce?” You muse and point to the plate cupboard, prompting him to get up and reach down two dinner plates to place on the side near you. 
Instead of sitting back down, he starts to load up the dishwasher with the dishes, which you’ve been putting in the sink to deal with after dinner once you’ve finished using them. “Not as simple as that,” he mutters. 
“Why not?” 
“Just isn’t, and it’s none of your fucking business.”
“Thanks to you and your delusional wife, I have no business of my own anymore, so I have to be up in yours.” 
“Well, don’t.” 
“I’m fucking bored, Wonwoo.” 
“Read a fucking book.”
“Nerd.” You don’t even look at him, but you don’t need to in order to know that he’s giving you a very unimpressed look; you can practically feel his gaze burning into the side of your face from over your left shoulder. “Either you give me all the gossip every time you visit, or you get me something to entertain me.”
“Like what?” 
For a second, you almost say a sex toy or twelve, but you think he really would stop talking to you then, and he’s your only method of socialisation, so you hum thoughtfully instead. “I guess seeing as there’s no internet, and you wouldn’t trust me with access to the outside world even if there was, a games console with a bunch of games on disc to play will do.”
“You like video games?”
“Not really.” You shrug and finish plating up dinner. “I’ve been intrigued, but I’ve always been more into cooking and baking. That’s just not as fun when I’ve got no-one to share it with. I can game on my own, at least.”
“You like to bake too?” You hum in confirmation. “I didn’t know that.”
You can’t help but laugh shortly as you look at him incredulously. “Why would you know that? We don’t know shit about each other, Wonwoo,” you remind him.
“Ah, right.” He nods and takes the last pan to rinse then put in the dishwasher, while you take your plates to the table to set down. Wonwoo follows moments later with the wine and sits down opposite you. “This looks amazing, thank you.” 
“Mm, of course. Not going to let the only person who can entertain me starve, am I?” 
“Guess not,” he huffs a quick laugh and picks up his fork. “What kind of games do you want?”
“I don’t really know; a variety, maybe, so I can try different types.” 
He makes a noise of understanding. “I’ll see what I can do.” 
“You’re the best.” He gives you a raised eyebrow look. “At least the best I can do with no other option.” He scoffs a laugh, lips turning into a more genuinely amused smile as he turns back to his food yet says nothing and eats, so you do the same.
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A few days later, Wonwoo is back just in time for dinner with his hands empty, making you squint at him sulkily as he nears where you’re setting the dishes on the table. 
Last time when he left, it was the morning, and you were asleep in your room, so he had written another note on the whiteboard telling you when he’d be back; so today, you had made his favourite meal and sides from the restaurant. You had planned the timing for when he said he would be back, and thankfully, he is still a man of his word and arrived perfectly on time.
At least, with this, he is a man of his word, because he had said he’d bring you a games console and games, yet here he is, empty handed.
“What? I’m on time,” he defends as he sits down. He’s not in a suit today, but jeans and a plain black t-shirt. It must be nice to be so unfairly attractive that even such a simple outfit looks effortlessly incredible. 
“And empty handed,” you mutter sulkily and drop down into your seat.
“It’s in the car,” he informs, rolling his eyes a little as he grabs his cutlery and immediately scoops a mouthful of food into his mouth. 
You watch as he makes strange sounds as he tries to exhale the heat from his mouth while still chewing. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You wonder, prompting him to look at you. “There is literally steam, of course it’s hot.”
“I’m starving,” he replies, only just managing to cover his mouth as he talks, so that you don’t see his partially chewed food. “Barely eaten since last time.”
“What the fuck? Why?” You gawp.
“Told you; she won’t let me in the kitchen, and I refuse to eat her cooking.”
“There are plenty of restaurants, even fucking convenience stores to get a sandwich or instant ramen!” 
“Can’t eat that shit after having your cooking.” He shrugs. As if it’s no big deal. As if he hasn’t just essentially admitted he’d rather go hungry than eat food that you haven’t made. 
Perhaps to him it’s nothing, but no one has ever sounded so committed to any aspect of you before, even if it’s a byproduct of you, not actually a part of you. But it still hits you right in the chest and makes you unable to do anything but stare at him dumbly as he continues to shove too much food in his mouth before it’s cool enough to be practical.
“I’ll bring it up after dinner,” he declares a few moments later, snapping you back to reality without looking up at you, still too focused on his food.
“What?”
“The shit in the car.” 
“Oh, why didn’t you just bring it up with you?” You wonder as you pick up your cutlery to get started on eating your own serving.
“There’s too much shit for one trip, and I wanted to eat.”
“Too much shit?” You give him a questioning look when he glances at you. “How much did you buy, Wonwoo?”
“It’s not that.” He waves a dismissive hand. “You’ll understand later.”
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After dinner, once he’s finished cleaning up, and while you sprawl over the still far too big couch in wait, Wonwoo goes down to the car and returns with a hand truck hauling multiple cardboard boxes. He unloads them into the lounge then leaves, after telling you to wait for him to be back. He locks you in the apartment once again before making another trip down to his car and returning without the hand truck, but now he has a suitcase that you recognise and a duffle bag you do not.
“Hold, did you break into my fucking apartment?!” you gawp as you sit up, pointing accusingly at the man. 
“No. I have your keys.” He pulls your keys from his jacket pocket then tosses them onto the side console with his own as he removes his shoes. 
“What the fuck, how?” 
“My wife had them, remember?” 
“Oh…” You nod a little in understanding. “I assume you will not be returning my phone to me.” 
“No. It’s off and somewhere else. Can’t risk you turning it on and getting tracked,” he answers simply before walking over to start opening the biggest of the boxes, while you pout at his back.
It’s only when he pulls an old, boxy TV from the box, spilling packing foam everywhere, that your interest is pulled away from grieving the, hopefully temporary, loss of your phone. 
“The fuck?” you mutter, rolling off of the couch to shuffle across the rug on your knees until you’re peering over his shoulder as he sets the TV up on the unit. “Excuse you, sir, but we are in the modern age.”
“Shut up, the console doesn’t work with our TVs,” he retorts.
“What console did you even buy?” 
“I didn’t buy it. It’s one I’ve had since I was a kid, so you better fucking look after it,” he warns, giving you a stern look. 
“I can respect other’s property, unlike you.” He gives you a bewildered look. “You broke into my apartment.”
“I had your fucking keys,” he reminds with a roll of his eyes before turning back around to return to setting up the outdated TV before pulling over another box to open. 
“I didn’t give you permission to go there; you broke in.” 
“I thought you’d want some of your own shit. Last time I try and do something fucking nice for your ungrateful ass.” You stare at him for a moment before shuffling closer to abruptly hug him from behind, making him jolt then tense up. “The fuck are you doing?”
“Being appreciative.”
“Well stop it; it’s fucking weird. Just go back to being an ungrateful shit.” 
“No. You smell really nice, what cologne do you use? I want some.”
“I brought your perfume from your apartment, wear your own shit.”
“No, I like yours. Let’s swap.”
“Fuck off.” He shakes you off of him, making you snigger before you move over to open the last box, which looks brand new, to peer inside and notice random items from your apartment inside. 
You don’t know why Wonwoo thought you’d want the novelty beer mat, which you stole from a bar, that you kept on your coffee table, but it’s in the box and makes you giggle when you see it. All the other items are much more understandable; your jewellery box, makeup bag, perfume, the blanket from your couch, and the teddy bear that sleeps with you. 
“You got a boyfriend you didn’t mention?” He wonders, when he glances over and spots you holding the teddy and brushing your fingers over the soft fur. His eyes land on the love heart pattern of its t-shirt then he turns away.
“No.”
“Caught up on an ex?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Just wondering, damn.” 
“Oh, so you get to dig into my love life, but I can’t yours?”
“Never fucking mind,” he grunts, all but glaring at the console as he sets it up. 
You peer at him and sigh. “Fucking idiot man.” He turns his head to shoot you a warning look over his shoulder. “What? You are!”
“Watch your fucking mouth.”
“No.” You raise a challenging eyebrow when he turns further towards you; a clear attempt to silently intimidate you. “I know you’re not going to hurt me. If you were willing to let me get hurt, I wouldn’t still be here,” you reason logically.
Wonwoo continues to glare at you for a moment before he turns away with a grunted curse, making you snigger. “Stop being a brat, or I won’t be so nice from here on out.” 
“Kinda sounds like a challenge to me, if I’m honest.” Your words make Wonwoo stop what he’s doing to sigh heavily, eyes closing as he takes a moment to gather himself. Deciding to leave Wonwoo alone, lest you actually make him lose his temper with you, you turn and look at the bear in your hands. 
A bittersweet little smile lifts your lips as you think about Sangmin. He had gifted you the bear on Valentine’s day; he wasn’t hitting on you and made a big effort to let you know that. He had simply seen the bear and decided to use all the change he had in his pocket to buy it for you, as the most heartfelt thank you and sign of his appreciation for all the meals you make for him.
At this point, Sangmin really is your best friend, perhaps your only friend. You value him so greatly and constantly find yourself wondering and worrying over the man since Wonwoo’s wife kidnapped you a week ago. You’ve been his only source of stable sustenance for months now; you dread to think of how much he’s struggling to feed himself without you handing him a hot meal every night.
“Hey, uhm Wonwoo?” You call, tone quieter and uncertain. It makes Wonwoo stop what he’s doing to look over at you, but you’re still looking at that bear and don’t notice. 
Wonwoo stares at you contemplatively for a moment; takes in the concerned furrow of your eyebrows and the tender way you handle the bear. “What is it?” He asks, his own tone softer now, noticing that whatever is on your mind is serious for you. He wasn’t aware you even know how to be genuinely serious like this. Even when you were tied to a chair by thugs getting bruised and battered, you didn’t seem like you were taking the situation all that seriously. 
“Will you do me a big favour?” 
“Depends.” 
You sigh softly and look at him. “There’s a homeless man who I feed every night after work. He meets me outside of the restaurant and walks me home. He’s… I’m the only stable source of food he has. Will you check on him, buy him a meal? And assure him that I’m okay. He was there when those assholes took me.”
“Oh.” He silently watches you for a moment longer, in surprise at your genuine, selfless request, while you keep your sincere gaze glued to him. “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”
“He’s my only friend, all I have here. He’s really a good guy; he’s got a giant heart and will always put others first. It’s how he lost everything; ran himself thin and got his kind nature taken advantage of. I need to know that he’s okay and will continue to be until I can go back and look after him.”
“Okay,” he agrees softly with a nod. “I’ll look out for him until it’s safe for you to leave.” 
“Thank you.” You relax a little as you give him a grateful smile. 
“You’re welcome.”
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Although it’s usually a few days before you see Wonwoo, he turns up the day after you ask him to check on Sangmin. 
When he enters the apartment, you’re sitting on the floor close to the boxy TV in the lounge, playing one of the games on his childhood game console. 
“Oh, didn’t expect you today, would’ve started dinner if I knew you’d be here,” you comment, after flickering your gaze over to him, then focus back on the screen.
“Why does that sound like you won’t eat dinner if I don’t turn up?” he accuses, approaching, sans shoes, to sit on your left, grab the other controller from in front of the console, and immediately jumps into the game with you. 
“When I get hungry, I’ll eat. I don’t have any kind of schedule to keep, you do.” Wonwoo makes a noise of understanding in response yet says nothing more.
Until the end of the level, you’re both focused entirely on the game and only talk when Wonwoo gives you tips and guidance. He played this game many times in his youth, so he knows it far better than you, even if it’s been some years since he last played it.
“What’s for dinner then?” Wonwoo prompts, plucking the controller from your hand to place down as the level ends. 
“Uhh, fuck knows,” you answer with a shrug before getting up and shuffling to the kitchen. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“In case you forgot; it’s my fucking apartment,” he scoffs, turning off the TV, after saving the game properly. Once the console and TV are both turned off, Wonwoo saunters over to the kitchen to lean on the island at the opposite side to you, with his forearms laid flat on the granite surface and fingers casually laced together. 
“You got a thing for cooking, or something?” You wonder upon realising that he’s watching you with the same interest he always does when you’re cooking. Then again, maybe he’s just making sure you don’t slip poison into his portion. It’s only been just over a week since you met, so you wouldn’t blame him for being cautious.
“Just curious. I told you; I can’t cook for shit.”
“Then wash your hands and get around here,” you demand. “No better way to learn than by doing.”
“You serious?” he mumbles as he straightens up. You just hum. Wonwoo stares at you for a moment before moving to roll up his shirt sleeves, wash his hands and then join you for his first ever cooking lesson.
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It’s hours after Wonwoo arrives that you find out why he broke what you thought was going to be the schedule for his visits. 
Cooking dinner takes almost three times as long as normal with him at your side; for a gang member he’s ridiculously cautious with the kitchen knife you instruct him to use. Then, the two of you get distracted talking about the video games you’ve tried, so eating dinner takes longer than normal too.
So, here you are, four hours after he arrived, returning to the lounge to relax on the couch. You’re both very glad to have a comfortable seat after the past four hours of sitting on the hard floor, standing to cook and clean, and barely cushioned dining chairs. 
“Oh, I went to the restaurant while I was in the area today,” he informs, drawing your attention to him, instead of staring at the little spread of video games on the floor by the TV unit as you try to decide what to play next. Wonwoo is already looking at you and when you look at him, he continues talking, knowing that you’re now paying attention. “Met Sangmin.” You straighten up a little, eyes widening slightly in silent question, silent concern for your friend. “He…well, I won’t lie; he looks like shit.”
“How bad?”
“He’s barely eaten or slept since you were taken,” he answers. “He’s been looking for you, asking around where he can and got into some trouble a couple days ago; so, he looked fucked up too.” 
“Fuck.”
“Mm.”
“You gotta let me go see him.”
“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Wonwoo scoffs and shuffles to slouch down and let his head rest on the back of the couch as he turns his face skywards, looking at nothing in particular on the ceiling. “My wife is still after you; you’re staying right fucking here.”
“I can’t let him suffer!”
“I know,” he rolls his eyes before tilting his head just enough to peer at you lazily from the edge of his vision. “I told you that I’d look out for him until you can do it, and I’m a man of my word.”
“What did you do?” You ask softly, your worry starting to melt away. Something about Wonwoo really does make you believe him, at least about this; that he’s a man of his word. You trust him about this, as crazy as it is to trust the husband of the woman who fucking kidnapped you and had her minions beat you up because of her delusions.
“Put him up in a motel and gave him some cash for food. It should last him a couple weeks, provided he doesn’t fucking waste it.” He turns his face to the ceiling again, no longer looking at you as he yawns. “I’ll check on him in a few days and keep you updated.”
“Ah.” Your head bobs a little in approval as relief swims through your veins and warms your chest. “Thank you, Wonwoo, seriously.”
“Mm, I’m counting this as it makes us even for my fucking psychotic bitch of a wife kidnapping and beating the shit out of you.” 
“She didn’t beat the shit out of me. That would’ve been entertaining. Does she even know how to fight?” Wonwoo’s scoff is answer enough that no, his wife doesn’t know the first thing about fighting. “She would’ve broken her hand trying to break my face or something.”
“Doesn’t do shit with her hands, anyway, wouldn’t make a fucking difference if she broke them.” 
“Oh?” You grin slyly at him, even if he isn’t looking at you. “She’s more of a mouth kinda girl, huh?” Now Wonwoo looks at you, utterly unimpressed and borderline glaring, making you giggle. “What?” 
“My sex life is none of your fucking business.”
“Never mentioned you,” you muse with a shrug. “A lot of people who accuse others of cheating tend to be projecting their own misdeeds.”
“Know from experience?”
“Mm, yeah, been accused of cheating many times. I guess we’re similar in that regard; loyal to our partners even if they don’t believe it.” You shrug and get up to turn the TV on, then sit in front of the console to eject the cartridge to put away in the correct case.
“Not playing that one anymore?” he murmurs, rolling his head to watch you peruse the selection of games. 
“How tired are you? You’ve yawned like three times since sitting down.”
“I can go a few rounds, if you’re asking.” You immediately smirk over your shoulder at him. “Keep it in your fucking pants, pervert.”
“I respect the sanctity of marriage, even if it’s a loveless one,” you assure and turn back to the games, to select one to put into the slot and boot up the console. “I tried to play this earlier, but I kept dying, and it pissed me off. I think it’ll be easier in multiplayer though.”
“Mm, it is,” he confirms and stretches noisily before joining you on the floor, handing you a pillow to sit on while sitting on one himself, and accepts the controller you give him. As the game loads up and the start credits play, Wonwoo explains the basic idea of the game to you in a low voice, adding little tips about the controls and secret moves that will help you survive the beasts and tricks designed to overwhelm single players.
With Wonwoo at your side, the game is so much easier, and you enjoy yourself so much that you don’t realise the time pass, until Wonwoo declares that it’s close to sunrise, and he needs to get at least a couple hours of sleep before work. He leaves you to try some bonus levels that you unlocked together, but it’s not as fun alone, so you give up and go to bed as the sun rises, while silently looking forward to Wonwoo’s next visit.
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Even though, most of the time, the apartment is pretty boring alone, you manage to keep yourself busy gaming, cooking, and cleaning every inch of the apartment repeatedly. Sometimes, it feels like time drags, yet it also feels like you merely blink, and it’s been over a month since Wonwoo locked you up here. You can’t tell exactly how long it’s been with your lack of sleeping schedule without the man around, but an educated guess puts it at, roughly, almost five weeks.
At first, every time you see Wonwoo, you ask if his wife has stopped being a psycho yet and if you can go home. You’re never surprised when he says no, to both questions, and tells you that you need to stay a while longer. 
Then, the man’s visits change, and it’s not three days between visits; sometimes it is, but sometimes it’s less. Though soon enough, Wonwoo is at the apartment every single day. If not to stay the night in his bed and take advantage of not having to share a bed with his wife, then to simply spend a few hours with you to eat and game. 
Though sometimes, he turns up and just lays on the couch to nap for no more than an hour before he leaves without a word. He always looks utterly exhausted on those days. You can’t help but wonder if this apartment is the most practical place for him to crash when he needs a nap during the day. Surely, the man has safe houses closer into the city centre; ones easier to get to and that don’t take as much of his time with travel. But you never bring it up; honestly, you’re just glad for the company, however wordless it is.
For a little while, you stop asking him when you can leave. It clearly annoyed him that you asked every time he visited, but it also frustrated you to never have an actual answer as to when you can go home. There’s only so long you can live in this apartment before you lose a grip on yourself and get reckless.
It’s probably been almost two weeks since you last asked, so you think it’s about time you bring it back up again, even if it’s 3pm and Wonwoo has clearly arrived with the intention of napping. 
You’re in the process of making yourself lunch when he enters the apartment, so he’s drawn to the kitchen after removing his shoes and jacket, where he slouches at the island and gratefully starts to eat the sandwich you place in front of him. It was supposed to be yours, but you can make another, he looks like he needs it.
“When can I go home?” You ask bluntly, causing Wonwoo to stop chewing mid bite and look over at you, but you’re focused on your task and don’t notice, until you flick your gaze up at his silence. “Well?”
Wonwoo lets out a heavy breath through his nose and gets back to chewing. Once he’s swallowed, he answers in a way you hadn’t expected. Usually, he always says either ‘not yet’ or a flat ‘no’. Yet today, he finally gives you a more solid answer, “depends.”
It’s just one word, but it makes hope start to flutter in your chest.
“On?” you ask, with your full attention on him, suddenly not all that hungry when faced with the potential sweetness of freedom just around the corner.
“If you’re willing to learn how to use a gun and carry one on you at all times.”
Just like that, the fluttering in your chest ceases and the excitement that had started to warm your veins is sucked away as if it had never known a home in you in the first place. “You’re insane, aren’t you?” you accuse with a scoff and turn back to making your lunch.
“I can’t let you leave if you can’t defend yourself; I’ll end up following you all the fucking time to make sure you’re safe,” he reasons, waving a hand vaguely before taking a bite of his sandwich. 
“It’s not really any of your business,” you point out while looking at him. “I appreciate that you protected me in the first place, but you’ve done the noble thing; you don’t have to do anything else.” 
Wonwoo looks up at you as if you’re stupid. “I do if I want you to be safe.” 
“As long as she’s alive, I won’t be safe, not really.” 
“Are you suggesting I kill my wife?” he baulks in disbelief at the potential insinuation within your words.
You shake your head and pull a face as if he’s the stupid one this time. “No…” your expression morphs into something considering as your head tilts slightly, while pondering his words. “Though, it would be a two birds one stone situation.” 
Wonwoo’s whole expression furrows. “Fucking hell, all this time locked up with only an asshole like me for company has warped your mind. You’ve gone fucking insane.” 
“Always been there.” You shrug casually. “I don’t think a man who goes against his wife to protect another is an asshole, anyway.” 
“I’m literally in a gang,” he deadpans.
“Yeah, and?” You give him an unwavering look. “I’ve met much worse people than you in my life, Wonwoo, and I will again. You’re sweet in comparison.” 
“I’ve really fucked your head up, haven’t I?” 
“Told you, I’ve always been like this”. 
“Calling gang members sweet?” 
“Once or twice.” 
He raises a disbelieving eyebrow as if he isn’t even sure if he heard you correctly. “What?” 
“Look, let’s not get off track,” you decide, while waving a hand dismissively. Wonwoo eyes the knife that you wave around vaguely but you don’t pay his borderline concerned expression any attention. “I want to go home. I have people waiting for me, and there’s only so long until they come looking, so, I’d like to go before that happens.” 
“You live alone; I’ve seen your apartment, it’s barely big enough for you. And your neighbours definitely wouldn’t notice if you don’t return; they say you’re never home,” he points out. 
“Stalker. Maybe your wife did have reason to worry, huh?” 
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t start that shit; you know we never had an affair because we had never even fucking met properly until she kidnapped you!” 
“Defensive,” you tease. 
“You’ve really fucking lost it,” he declares flatly.
“Then let me fucking leave, and you won’t have to deal with me anymore!” you exclaim frustratedly. 
“I want to deal with you!” he returns immediately, before you both fall silent and stare at one another. You’re both surprised by the sheer honesty in his words, that they even fell from his lips in the first place.
You gather yourself and manage to speak first, deciding to make a joke to try and break the strange tension that’s appeared in the air between you. “Better not let your wife hear that; she’ll jump to conclusions. Unless you mean the permanent ‘sleep with the fishes’ kind of ‘deal with’, then she’ll probably suck your dick in joy.” 
Just as Wonwoo opens his mouth to respond, eyes intense on you, his phone starts to ring in his inside blazer pocket. He sighs heavily before pulling it out and walking down the hall to talk privately in one of the empty rooms.
When he returns, you’re sitting at the table eating your lunch and have packed up the rest of his into a container, already knowing that he’s being called into work.
“We’ll finish that talk later,” he declares as he grabs the container from the island behind you.
You don’t even look over at him as you respond, “pointless circles don’t end, Wonwoo.”
You don’t see him leave, or hear his socked footsteps walk away, but a few moments later, you hear the front door open and close before the lock engages, and you’re left alone wondering just what the fuck your life has come to. 
You just hope that he gives you control of your life back soon; before things get even more fucked up.
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Never would you have thought Wonwoo to be the type of person to avoid difficult situations or topics; you thought he’s far too straightforward to ever do such a thing. But when he doesn’t turn up the day after your interrupted discussion in the kitchen, you start to wonder if you got him wrong.
Then he doesn’t turn up the next day either, and you really think that’s being a little bitch and avoiding returning so that he doesn’t have to pick up that conversation with you.
Yet, on the third day, you recall that he was the one who had said you’ll finish the talk another day and as he’s proven; Jeon Wonwoo is a man of his word. You believe him, and suddenly, you don’t think he’s avoiding you but has likely grown very busy with work or his psychotic wife. 
However, when day four rolls around, you start to get worried that something has happened. Admittedly, you’ve grown fond of Wonwoo over the past weeks; his stupid smug smirk when he beats you at a game, his proud little shy smile when you praise his very gradually improving cooking skills, his soft snoring when he naps on the couch in the middle of the day. 
Sometimes, you truly do wonder if this is what Stockholm syndrome is: growing to actually like the person who has locked you up and genuinely wanting to spend time with them. You think others would probably say it is and that you shouldn’t care for the man. But he makes it easy, as much as you don’t want to have this attraction for him. You think that if you had got to know him under different circumstances, you’d probably feel the same way, anyway.
Regardless of if the man is technically holding you hostage or not, he’s married, and you respect that commitment and vow too much to ever want to have feelings for a married man. 
Still, you can’t help how you feel, and you worry when it’s past dinner time on the fourth day, yet Wonwoo still hasn’t shown his face. 
Now that you’re worried about Wonwoo, you can’t face gaming because it makes you think of him. So, you spend most of the day scrubbing the apartment from top to bottom, until everything that can sparkle, does. You even clean the rooms neither of you use.
You’re in the middle of putting the freshly washed and dried pillow covers back on the couch pillows when the sudden sound of the front door lock disengaging pings through the quiet apartment. 
Immediately, you look over, and your eyebrows lift as Wonwoo shuffles into the apartment, covered in blood. He doesn’t notice you at first as he locks the apartment back up one handed. His right hand is shoved into his trouser pocket suspiciously, like he’s trying to not move it, or perhaps not let you see it. 
“What the fuck?” You speak, making Wonwoo’s head lift quickly. 
Worry floods into his eyes, and he lifts his left hand placatingly towards you, after tossing his blood smeared car keys onto the side unit. “It-” he cuts off when you point firmly at his feet as soon as he takes a step forward, making him fall still in confusion.
“Stay there,” you order before turning and walking off, leaving Wonwoo staring after you puzzled.
You go to the laundry room to grab the stack of spare, dark grey towels, then go to the kitchen to get the roll of bin bags, before returning to the entrance hall. Thankfully, Wonwoo is still standing where you left him, though he’s removed his shoes now, and they’re haphazardly shoved aside. 
“Strip,” you demand, while dropping the towels onto the floor so that you can pull a bag from the roll and shake it open.
 “What?” he mumbles.
“You’re covered in blood, and I spent three hours scrubbing these fancy ass floors of yours today; you’re not getting blood on them,” you warn, giving him a stern look. 
He scoffs but obediently starts to do as told and moves both of his hands to his belt to start working it open. His right hand is bloodied, but it doesn’t look that much worse than his left hand, so you assume he wasn’t hiding it from you. “May as well be your floors, you’ve lived here more than me,” he mumbles as he works with a tense expression on his face, which tightens every time he moves his right arm even minutely. 
“Well then, I’m definitely not letting you fuck up my floors with your blood. Don’t be rude and bleed on my fancy ass floors.” 
Once Wonwoo’s belt is open, along with the button and zipper of his trousers, he starts to try and push them down his legs, but the blood oozing from the stab wound on his left thigh is making the material stick to his thighs. Plus, now that he’s moving it more, you can see that there is definitely something wrong with his right arm, as he can barely move it. In fact, he’s only moving the lower part of his arm, but even that is limited.
Realising that you’ll be here all night, if not longer, if you leave Wonwoo to strip himself, you sigh and put the bin bag down to get to your knees in front of him, so that you can peel his trousers down his legs for him. Wonwoo says nothing, but he lets out a relieved little breath, clearly glad for your help, and steps out of his trouser legs in turn as you hold them open. Once they’re entirely off, you make sure the pockets are empty before tossing them, including the belt, into the bin bag. 
Silently, you work to remove Wonwoo’s socks, then get up to get him out of his blazer and previously white, now half blood-red shirt; all of the clothing you throw into the bag to throw out and put everything from his pockets on the side unit.
As Wonwoo stands in front of you in his black boxers and previously white vest, you can see the strange shape of his right shoulder. It’s very clear to you what’s wrong with it. 
“It’s dislocated, isn’t it?” you question; Wonwoo wordlessly hums and nods in confirmation. “Alright, I’ll cut your vest off,” you decide, knowing that getting Wonwoo to lift his arms up is very impractical. You move over to the side table to grab the knife, which you had removed from a hidden inside pocket in Wonwoo’s blazer, and remove the little leather sheath from the blade, before turning to approach him with the knife.
Wonwoo steps back slightly, holding his left hand up between you with slightly alarmed eyes. “Whoa, what the fuck? You can’t just approach a man with a knife like that.”
You can’t help but scoff at his obvious hesitance and concern about you holding a knife only half an arm’s length away from him. “Don’t be a wimp. You’ve clearly been stabbed already tonight; what’s another flesh wound?” 
“You’re more psychotic than my wife,” he deadpans, left arm lowering to his side, deciding that you’re no threat now that the immediate worry has left. You’re right; he’s definitely already faced much bigger threats to his safety than you tonight.
“Careful, sweetheart,” you coo and tap the tip of the knife against the centre of his chest. You can’t help but notice the way he swallows thickly at your action and his eyes darken a little with interest. “Insult me again like that and my hand might slip.” You abruptly lower the knife to the hem of his vest and use it to ping the elastic of his boxers. His eyes darken further, and you smirk amusedly. “That’s an interesting reaction to having a knife aimed at your dick.” 
“That’s not my dick,” he murmurs, voice a little lower than usual.
“Huh, right.” You look down as you drag the knife down to touch the tip to where his dick is obviously sitting snug in his boxers, before looking back up at him. “Better?” 
He takes a moment before responding, eyeing you intently; you can practically see the thoughts whirling behind his eyes, “you’re not the woman I thought you are, are you?” 
You shrug. “Depends who you thought I am.” 
“A sweet, innocent cook, who makes the best food I’ve ever tasted.” 
“Well, some of that is true,” you giggle before lifting the knife to cut down the centre of his vest. Now that it’s served its purpose, you toss the knife onto the side table and remove the stained and ruined material from his body to put in the bin bag. “Alright, let’s get a look at you,” you say, before walking around him in a slow circle to carefully inspect his injuries, and silently appreciate his well looked after body while you’re at it. “Let’s put your shoulder back in place, get you cleaned up, and then I’ll patch you up,” you announce once you’re back in front of him.
Wonwoo raises a questioning eyebrow. “You know how to do all that?” 
“Yep,” you answer simply without a single slither of hesitation. It’s enough that Wonwoo doesn’t question you at all and just nods in agreement. 
Honestly, it’s not the first shoulder you’ve put back into place, or joint in general, so even though it’s not the most pleasant sensation in any way, you easily make short work of the task. 
While Wonwoo catches his breath back and gathers himself, you lay a towel on the ground in front of him, to minimise the amount of blood that ruins your hours of hard work cleaning the floor. 
Once he’s ready, Wonwoo doesn’t have to be prompted to step onto the towels. He does so quietly and then looks at you in wait. 
“What?” you ask.
“How the fuck am I supposed to move from here if you don’t move the towels? Unless you want blood on your floors?” he reasons, raising a blood smeared eyebrow at you.
“Oh, honey, there’s only one reason I get on my knees in front of a man, and that’s not gonna happen,” you point out with a scoff. “Shuffle.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Either stand there until you’re entirely dry and won’t get my floors dirty, or you can shuffle.” You shrug carelessly and pick up the rest of the towels to take to the stairs, so that you can lay the material out over the steps protectively. 
When you turn around on the stairs, once all of the towels are laid in place, you spot Wonwoo awkwardly shuffling along the floor in a way to keep the towel under his feet. You can’t help but crack up laughing at the sight of this tough, blood covered and injured, high-ranking gang member dragging his feet across the floor; silently obeying your demands to keep the floor clean. And you hadn’t even had to threaten to make him clean any mess he creates with his own toothbrush in the morning; though that definitely would’ve been the next step if he had been a stubborn ass. 
Wonwoo hears your laughter and glares over at you shortly before looking back down to focus on his efforts to get to the staircase. It only makes you laugh even harder, hard enough that you have to sit down so you don’t fall down the stairs.
A handful of moments later, when he passes you on the stairs, he flicks your head. You just giggle then get up to follow behind him up the rest of the steps. There’s already a towel waiting on the floor at the top, so Wonwoo, once again, shuffles across the shiny floor on a dark towel to get to his destination.
Even once in his bathroom, Wonwoo remains on the towel and follows you to the shower, which you turn on, on his behalf.
Once you’ve made sure he has everything he needs close to hand and a clean pair of boxers waiting for him on the counter, you turn to look at him with a teasing grin. “Can I trust you to shower on your own, or are you going to pass out from blood loss?” 
“I haven’t lost that much blood,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. 
You giggle and nod, backing up to the door. “Alright, I’ll wait outside, though.” Wonwoo just nods in understanding, so you step out of the bathroom and pull the door up most of the way just in case he needs you.
Leaving the door open seems to have been a very smart move, because not long later, you hear Wonwoo call your name awkwardly. You can only just hear him over the water, so you know that if the door was shut, there would not have been a chance you’d be able to hear him.
“Yeah?” You ask, sticking your head into the room to find him standing out of the stream of water, with his still bloody back mostly to the door, and his hands holding a small towel in front of his crotch, even if you can’t see anything from this angle regardless of the cover. 
“I can’t reach my back well enough with my arm like this,” he admits, making short eye contact with you as he indirectly asks for your help. 
Without a word, you enter the room and grab the soapy washcloth he offers, so that you can diligently scrub all of the blood from his back, then notice he’s missed patches on his left upper arm, so you clean there too.
“Alright, inspection time,” you declare before looking over the back of him from head to toe and back again, to thoroughly check for injuries that need to be dealt with and any blood he missed. “Turn,” you demand once satisfied with his backside, and also taking a moment to appreciate his backside. 
Obligingly, Wonwoo turns to face you and watches you as your gaze travels over his body from this angle, stepping closer to get a better look at certain injuries or run the cloth over his skin diligently. 
When you’re done with all of the exposed skin, your attention moves to the towel he’s clutching over his crotch before you grin amusedly and meet his dark gaze. “What if you’re injured there, Wonwoo?” you tease with a dramatic gasp. 
“Don’t,” he warns. “I’m not giving any truth to my wife’s delusions about us, so don’t…don’t say and do stuff like that when I’m in no position to handle it.” 
“I’m curious what exactly that means,” you admit. 
“Then be curious, I’m not elaborating.” 
You stare at him curiously for a moment before nodding. “Finish up and get those on.” You point to the clean boxers on the counter as you head to the door. “I’ll be back with the medical kit.” 
It only takes you a few minutes to go to the kitchen and get the very extensive medical kit from the secret compartment hidden in the kitchen island, plus a bottle of water and an apple. 
Deciding to be kind to Wonwoo’s currently somewhat limited movements, you clean up the dirty towels from the stairs, putting them all in the bin bag, plus Wonwoo’s shoes, before tying it off and leaving it near the front door for Wonwoo to take out tomorrow. 
Figuring that Wonwoo must be in a decent state by now, you wander upstairs with the necessary items and enter the bathroom, to find him leaning against the counter with his boxers on and a small towel in his left hand as he rubs his hair.
He pauses when he notices the bag slung on your left shoulder. “The fuck did you get that?”
“Did you forget where you left it?” You tease, putting the items on the counter beside him.
“I know where I hid that. How the fuck did you find it?”
“I know every inch of this apartment, Wonwoo; I’ve cleaned it enough the past month.” You scoff then take the towel to toss aside so that you can hand him the apple. “Eat that.” 
“I’m not hungry.” 
“I don’t give a fuck; eat that and drink the water,” you demand, already rummaging in the bag to take out everything you need to play doctor.
Wonwoo stares at you for a few seconds, then looks between the items you’re setting up and your at ease yet confident expression, a few times before giving in with a soft sigh and taking a bite of the apple.
The first wound to deal with is the stab wound on his left thigh; there’s still a little blood trickling from it, but it doesn’t run past his knee, so you know he’s clotting well, and there isn’t any worry really. Still, it’s the biggest of his injuries, so you handle it first. 
As soon as you get on your knees in front of him, Wonwoo makes a comment, “thought you only get on your knees for one reason?” he teases with a little smirk, which quickly leaves when you slap his leg right beside the wound, making him hiss. “Fuck you.” 
You only smile too sweetly at him before getting to work sewing up the wound as quickly yet efficiently as you can. There’s anaesthetic in the medical kit, but Wonwoo insists he can handle getting stitches without it. Still, being repeatedly stabbed with a needle and having the thread pulled through skin is not a nice or pain free sensation for anyone, so you want to get it over with as quickly as possible. 
After cleaning up the blood and covering his thigh, you get up to work on disinfecting and covering all of his other wounds. Most of them are small, and many don’t even require plasters, but there’s a cut across his chest; slicing thinly over his left pec with a starting point over his heart, where the wound is slightly deeper. You’re pretty sure that whoever inflicted this wound had tried to stab him in the heart and kill him, but either Wonwoo or someone else stopped them before they could succeed. 
You don’t linger on it, but it does hurt your heart to see, far more than the wound on his thigh, despite that one requiring stitches, and this one only some gauze to prevent infection. At least the thigh wound wasn’t an attempt on Wonwoo’s life.
Once all of the open wounds are dealt with, all you have to do is wrap his right shoulder to support the joint as it recovers from being dislocated, and then you’re all done.
“You’re really fucking good at this; are you trained or something?” Wonwoo comments as you wash your hands and he’s eyeing your handiwork impressed.
“Or something,” is your dismissive response.
He scoffs and looks over at you. “Now who’s evading questions.” 
“Don’t owe you shit,” you point out and move to dry your hands.
“I saved your life.” 
“Because your delusional wife put it in danger in the first place. That’s not on me.” 
“Not on me either.” 
It’s you who scoffs this time as you think about the tension that keeps appearing between the two of you lately and how he didn’t even try to hide how holding his knife to him earlier had turned him on. It all seems so natural for him; being this way with you. “You can’t expect me to believe she’s accusing you of cheating for no reason.” 
He frowns at you offendedly, and you’re not surprised; you’ve kind of had this conversation before. “Yeah, she’s fucking crazy and projecting her own failings on me. I have never been unfaithful to her or anyone. Never will be either.” 
For a few tense moments, the pair of you just stare at each other and the whole time, Wonwoo’s expression doesn’t change; the burning sincerity in his eyes doesn’t waver. You think maybe you might trust this man too much, because it makes all of your doubts about his relationship morals leave. “Huh, okay,” you respond simply with a nod and move to zip up the medical bag. 
“You don’t believe me, do you?” his voice is a little quieter now, a hint of hurt at your doubt of him showing. 
“No, I do, which is why I’m surprised,” you assure and turn to lean against the counter and look at him, so that he can see the honesty in your own eyes. It’s only fair, after all. “Gang member with morals; kinda not the norm.” 
“Yeah, well, I don’t see the point in it. If I wanted to fuck other people, I wouldn’t be committed to someone.” 
“Even if it’s someone you don’t want to be with in the first place? Obviously, there’s no love lost in you for her, no love in the first place,” you comment. 
“That’s not your place,” he reminds firmly. 
“Just following the conversation. Your pathetic excuse of a marriage isn’t of any concern of mine.” You shrug and push off of the counter to head towards the door.
“Don’t insult the man in charge of your freedom,” he warns lowly, making you turn to look at him with a scoffed laugh. 
“Why? What else are you going to do, Wonwoo? Send me back to her and let her have her fun?” 
Wonwoo’s expression softens slightly, and he shakes his head a little. “No. Never that,” he responds without a hint of hesitation or doubt in his tone. It sounds something like a promise.
“Then are you going to keep me and have your own fun?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow at him pointedly.
“I told you not to say things like that,” he rushes, gaze turning intense as he eyes you where you stand in the open doorway. His eyes flicker downwards; a quick drag of attention over your entire form, and his tongue darts out to lick his split lip mindlessly.
You can’t help but laugh. “Look whose mind is in the gutter,” you taunt. “I meant fuck me up yourself, not fuck me.” You back out into the hallway slowly, while giving him a significant look. “Think you need to remind yourself of your loyalty moral, Wonwoo. A lot of people consider looking or thinking bad enough to be cheating. If you don’t want your darling wife to be right, you should get a handle on that.” Your gaze flickers over the bathroom quickly before landing back on him. “Oh, and clean the bathroom before you go to bed; I won’t cook for you tomorrow if I see a single drop or smear of blood in here tomorrow.”
With that, you leave Wonwoo watching you leave him all alone with his mind whirling and a growing ache in his chest that he doesn’t think is entirely from the wound you so tenderly cared for. 
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The very next day when you wander downstairs, it’s gone midday, and to your surprise, Wonwoo is in the kitchen, serving up take out onto two plates. 
“Oh, you’re up, good,” he comments when he hears the rustle of your clothes as you get closer. He glances over at you, gaze flickering over you quickly before focusing back on his task. “I was about to come and wake you.”
“You picked up lunch on your way over?” you mutter confusedly, Wonwoo never brings food when he visits, except groceries after picking up a list from you the day before. 
“No, I went and got lunch when I realised you’re not going to come down, and I’m too fucking hungry to wait any more.” 
“That sounds like you didn’t go to work today.”
“Called off for a few days to recover,” he informs and takes the plates over to the table. “Sit,” he says while pointing to your seat, before moving to get you both cutlery and drinks.
Not one to refuse free food, you sit down, and thank him when he hands you your cutlery before digging in; he quickly joins in.
“So,” Wonwoo starts after a little while of the usual comfortable quiet that falls between you if neither of you are talking. It’s strange how easy the silences between you have always been; even before you became whatever kind of vague friends you currently are. 
“Mm?” you respond with your mouth closed as you chew, looking up at him curiously.
“I was thinking that as I’m going to be off work for a few days, you can give me more cooking lessons.”
You straighten up to look at him in questioning surprise. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, why are you surprised? You know I want to learn.”
“Yeah, but that sounds like you intend on spending your days off here instead of at home.”
“She’s there,” he responds as if it’s the obvious answer, while pulling a displeased face.
You snort an amused laugh at his expression. “Good point. Alright, sure, I’ll teach you, but you gotta call me Chef.”
“What?” 
“Chef.”
“You’re fucking ridiculous.”
“Oh, looks like you’re going to forever burn eggs, Wonwoo,” you sing.
“Alright, fine, I’ll fucking call you Chef, but only while we’re cooking, understand?”
“Yes, sir.” He gives you a flat look that makes you giggle. You turn back to your food and ignore the flash of interest in his gaze.
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Over the following days, Wonwoo is always up before you and quickly realises that you need to be woken up if he wants something other than takeout or a sandwich for lunch. 
A routine of sorts quickly gets established; Wonwoo wakes you before lunch, so that you can cook together, then he cleans up, at his own insistence, while you get the medical kit ready in the lounge to check and redress his wounds once he joins you. The afternoon consists of a mix of chores and gaming. In the evening, it’s time for another cooking session for dinner before he once again cleans up. Then, the two of you sit in the lounge to game or watch the videos on the video player, which he brought back on his first day off; another one of his childhood items he’s had safely stored away.
It all falls into place so seamlessly that it’s like the two of you have always existed like this, even if the seemingly endless personal questions that Wonwoo likes to randomly bring up prove otherwise.
Sometimes, you answer honestly, but others you don’t, and it’s endlessly entertaining watching Wonwoo try to decipher if you’re being honest or just fucking with him. 
It starts with the very first question on the very first day he’s off work, when you’re expertly handling his wounds and the medical supplies. “Where’d you learn to do this?”
“What’s it to ya?” you tease.
“Just curious about you.”
“Why?” 
“Because I’ve known you over a month, and I don’t know shit about you, despite you living in my apartment, and that shit’s going to keep up for the foreseeable future. So, it’d be nice to know some shit,” he huffs.
You hum consideringly as you ponder his words, before answering while continuing to clean and redress his thigh wound. “When I was fifteen, I was out with my sister, and we got caught in the middle of some gang shit. She got hurt bad, really bad, and I couldn’t do anything to help her. I couldn’t save her; I didn’t know how. She bled out in my arms, and I decided then that I wasn’t going to be so useless again. I learned how to handle most wounds with both real medical supplies, and whatever is to hand in case of an emergency.”
“Oh…” 
“If I was home, I would’ve put on my latex nurse’s outfit too,” you add as you look up at him and spot the softness around his eyes; the sympathy and understanding pain. 
It abruptly leaves at your words, and he lets out a frustrated, disbelieving sound. “You fucking asshole; I actually believed you,” he grunts disapprovingly, and you just snigger, returning back to your task.
Despite knowing that you’re actively messing with him, Wonwoo still insists on asking you personal questions to try and get a clearer image of you and your story. It’s a great source of entertainment for you, personally, so you don’t mind. Plus, he’s always so helpful; offering his assistance and cleaning dishes before you can even think about it, that you think he deserves the chance to poke around a little.
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On the fourth day of Wonwoo being off work, you wake when Wonwoo knocks on your bedroom door then lets himself in. You eye him blearily as you shuffle up to sit against the headboard, while he walks further into the room.
“Are you ever going home?” you mumble, while rubbing at your eyes. When you lower your hands, he’s placing a tray, which you somehow didn’t even notice him holding, on the duvet at your side and sitting on the other side. You notice the plate piled with steaming food, two mugs and two sets of cutlery on top “Oh, breakfast in bed?” you tease with a grin as he hands you a set of cutlery and holds the other, while he picks up his usual mug to sip at his steaming coffee.
He rolls his eyes before answering as you start to eat, “don’t say something weird; I just know you won’t come down to eat it. So, unless I want my hard work going to waste, I need to bring it to you. I’ve had enough of you digging your fucking fingers into my wounds when I try to pick you up to move you when you’re being a stubborn asshole.” 
You ignore his comments about your stubborn streak and your habit of playing dirty and using his healing injuries against him. “How lucky am I?” you coo, entirely ignoring his warning to not say something weird. Teasing him is just too much fun. “Well, I imagine your wife is luckier. You seem like the type of man to go all out on your lucky lady’s birthday; fancy breakfast in bed, whatever gifts she wants, romantic dinner at her favourite restaurant and a day being spoiled.” Wonwoo doesn’t answer, just keeps his gaze on the tray between you as he works on eating his share of the breakfast that he so carefully cooked for you both. “Well shit, you’ve never done that for her?” you baulk surprised. He truly does seem like the doting, romantic type. 
Even this; bringing breakfast to you so that you’ll eat the food he obviously tried very hard to cook, as he hadn’t burned any of it this time, even if it’s pretty bland and under seasoned, just proves that he’s a very doting man when he wants to be. Plus, he waited for you to take a bite first before making any attempt himself. It makes you realise that he always makes sure you go first with everything and quietly goes along with whatever you want; the game you want to play, the food you want to cook, the video you want to watch, he never complains.
It seems crazy to you that Wonwoo has never gone all out for his wife; the woman he promised forever to.
He scoffs. “Why should I? I tried to do nice things at first, but she was always expecting more and bitched.” 
“Has she ever done anything for you?” 
“Other than be a pain in my ass? No.” 
You pull a disgusted yet puzzled face. “Why the fuck did you marry her?” 
“Took one for the team,” he answers honestly for the first time, paired with a casual shrug. Before now, every time you’ve asked about his relationship, Wonwoo has always told you it’s not your business or avoided answering by changing the topic or simply stayed silent.
“What does that even mean?” you wonder, giving him a curious look as he lifts his gaze to look at you.
“Means that she’s the oldest kid, but as she’s a woman, she can’t take over the gang when her dad dies; so, it would go to her brother, who is even more fucking useless and entitled than she is.” The repulsed twist of Wonwoo’s expression gives away his clear disdain for his brother-in-law. “He’d fucking destroy the gang and everything we’ve put so much blood into creating. But the boss will give his son-in-law the position if he’s proven himself, and well, I’ve been in the gang since I was fourteen, so I’ve definitely proven myself after 20 fucking years.” 
“Well…shit,” you mumble, eyes wide as you absorb his unexpected words; unexpected for more than one reason.
“Mm,” he hums in agreement as he chews on another mouthful.
“I did not realise you’re so old!” you gawp, making him look at you with a miniature version of your shocked expression.
He quickly finishes chewing and swallows the food in his mouth so that he can talk. “Seriously? That’s what you took from that, my fucking age?” 
“What?” You shrug defensively. “I thought you’re my age, not eight years older.” 
Wonwoo stares at you dumbly for a few long seconds before he mumbles, “you’re 26?” 
“Yeah.” 
“Oh.” He licks his lips a little awkwardly. “I didn’t realise.” 
“Are you saying I look old?!” you sputter in offense.
He quickly shakes his head and holds up his hands placatingly. “No. Just, I guess I’m more used to women like my wife. All her friends are immature as fuck, all spoiled little princesses. She’s older than me, you know? By three years, yet you’re more mature than her. So, I thought based on that, you’re closer to my age at least,” he reasons. It’s a very understandable thought process and assumption, so your posture relaxes again.
“Huh, okay, I’ll accept that, but don’t disrespect princesses like that,” you warn. 
“Should I call them spoiled little daddy’s girls then?” he jokes.
“No.” You pout. “Don’t lump me with them.” 
“You’re a daddy’s girl?” he baulks in genuine shock.
“Yeah.” 
“Didn’t even know you have family, honestly,” Wonwoo admits, making you look at him as if he’s the dumbest person you’ve ever met.
“Did you think I grew out of the fucking ground?” you deadpan.
“Obviously not; I know how human biology works, brat.” He rolls his eyes. “Just…there’s no sign of family in your apartment; not a single photo or anything that could be deemed a family heirloom.” 
You shrug and pick up your mug. “I don’t need those things to remember; I have plenty of reminders on me at all times to remind me of family.” 
“Like what? That necklace you wear?” He points to the chain of the necklace you never take off, where it’s just about poking out from the collar of your pyjama t-shirt.
“No, this is just a cheap thing I got to replace another cheap one and so on and so forth because I just hate not wearing a necklace.” 
“I don’t see you in any other jewellery.” 
“Don’t own any.” 
“Really?” he asks surprised, slightly raising his eyebrows curiously. “Not a single thing?” 
“No. I used to have earrings, but I lost the back of one, so I stopped wearing them and just never got around to replacing them.” 
“Then what do you mean you have reminders on you all the time, if not jewellery?” he sounds genuinely confused and very curious as his attention remains solely on you. 
You motion to the plate as you lean back towards it yourself, dismissing the topic with a simple, slightly firm, “breakfast is getting cold.” 
Wonwoo gets the hint and doesn’t try to push you anymore, just leans in and gets back to eating.
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The very next morning after Wonwoo brings you breakfast in bed, he doesn’t wake you with another tray, nor does he wake you to make lunch with him. You get up feeling very off kilter at waking naturally without him being the first thing you see once the sleep leaves your eyes. 
It only gets worse when you go downstairs, and he’s nowhere to be found. 
Bewilderedly, you waddle to the fridge to get the juice and notice a new note on the whiteboard from Wonwoo. It’s a short note, like always, and says that he’s gone back to work and won’t be back tonight, so don’t worry about cooking dinner for him. 
All day, you move around the apartment feeling oddly lost. 
Wonwoo was only home for four days, yet it already feels so strange not having him following you around to ask questions as you complete chores together or peering over your shoulder to learn how to cook or playfully shoving you when you’re playing against each other in a game instead of as a team. You don’t really know what to do without him.
When it comes to dinner, you don’t think before cooking and only realise that you’ve naturally made enough for Wonwoo too when you’re putting a plate in his usual seat and remember that he won’t be here to eat it. 
It feels pathetic to sit staring at an empty seat with a full plate on the placemat in front of it opposite you, as you eat your dinner, but there’s something in you that refuses to let you take his plate away, even knowing his note says he won’t be home tonight.
Only when you can’t handle being in the lounge as it feels so empty without him, do you remove his covered plate from the dining table to box up the leftovers to put in the fridge and put the dishes in the dishwasher.
It’s only 9pm when you crawl into bed freshly showered and turn on your TV to watch something, hoping to distract yourself from the hollow feeling in your chest.
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Although you were in bed early last night, you didn’t manage to fall asleep until your usual time, so you’re up after midday again. 
Today when you wander downstairs, you don’t expect to see Wonwoo, as his note said he’ll be back this evening, but clearly, he had already returned and left again. When you enter the kitchen, you spot a little gift bag on the island. 
Curiously, you approach and inspect the bag, trying to find a logo on the packaging, but there isn’t one, though you do find your name on the tag in Wonwoo’s surprisingly pretty handwriting. He doesn’t usually write so neatly; it seems as if he focused on writing your name in a visibly appealing way, instead of the usual scrawls he puts on the whiteboard.
Now that you know that it’s for you, you open the bag, and after moving aside the neatly packed dark blue tissue paper, you spot a black jewellery box. You hesitate before reaching out to pick out the box and open it. 
Immediately, your breath catches, and your heart skips a beat.
Within the jewellery box, seated neatly on a cushioned display covered in dark silk, is a truly stunning necklace and earring set. They sparkle in the light; silver chain and clear jewels polished to perfection as they stare up at you tauntingly. You know they’re diamonds; you just know with everything in you that Wonwoo had purposely gone out and bought you an expensive, extremely high-quality necklace and earrings set to replace your own. And it hurts.  
There is no way that this is nothing; that Wonwoo would go out of his way to pick such a beautifully crafted set for any other friend. You’re pretty positive that he wouldn’t even pick such a nice set for his wife. It feels like he’s putting you higher than her, ranking you as more important, more meaningful to him than the woman he is lawfully devoted to, and that hurts.
It's all too much. You close the box and place it back in the bag, cover it with the tissue paper and leave it there.
As you reheat the leftovers from last night for your lunch, your gaze keeps returning to the gift. Even with your back to the island as you sit at the table to eat, your mind keeps reminding you that it’s there; keeps shouting at you to pay attention to it.
Unable to handle it, as soon as you’ve cleaned up after lunch, you go up to your room to spend the rest of the say sitting on your bed watching TV and pretending that Wonwoo hasn’t royally fucked with your head and implied far too much without saying a word.
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When Wonwoo returns, you’re still sitting on your bed watching TV, or at least pretending to. You’ve been restless for the past half an hour, knowing that he’ll be home at any moment and there will have to be a conversation to be had; about the necklace, about him, about you.
Only a handful of minutes after hearing Wonwoo enter the apartment, he wanders into your room through the open door, holding the gift bag in one hand with a genuine frown on his features. He looks both confused and a little upset. “Haven’t you been in the kitchen today?” 
“Of course I have, you think I like starving myself? I enjoy food too much,” you answer without looking away from the TV, even if your full attention has been on him since before he entered the room, before he even entered the apartment.
“Okay, then why aren’t you wearing this?” He lifts the bag slightly.
You hesitate before letting out a defeated sigh and looking at him. “Why did you buy that for me, Wonwoo?” 
“Because you never replaced your earrings and wear a cheap necklace that will break easily and make you buy another. This one will last a long time and has a lifetime guarantee, so you can get it replaced if it does break, but it shouldn’t.” It all sounds so logical, so reasonable, but you know it isn’t. Wonwoo is far too smart of a man to be that dense. 
“Take it back,” you order. 
“You don’t like it? Tell me what you like and I’ll-” 
“You’re a married man, Wonwoo; you can’t buy another woman jewellery.” 
“It’s just jewellery,” he mutters, a hint of defensiveness to his tone. 
“No, it’s not, and you know it.” 
He stares at the bag for a few moments then nods slowly in agreement; admittance to knowing exactly what you’re saying, what he said by buying the jewellery in the first place. “I’ll return it tomorrow.” 
“Thank you.” You relax a little, relieved that he’s agreed to return the gift.
“I didn’t mean to overstep or make things uncomfortable between us; I just wanted to do something nice for you,” he says, talking softer than you’ve heard him before. It makes it hurt even more; the honesty in his voice, the truth to the depths of his care for you. It needs to stop before it burrows deeper in either of you.
“Well, you shouldn’t. I’m just your hostage. We’re not friends, Wonwoo,” you say, in reminder, even if it hurts you as much to say it as it clearly hurts him to hear it. You can see it in his eyes. But you have to say it; to remind the both of you of the boundaries and moral obligations in place. The reasons why you can’t be anything more than how this all started. 
“Right, yeah, just my hostage,” he scoffs and looks at you, eyes harsh and jaw tense. “Maybe I should treat you that way, huh? It’d make things easier.”
“I think this is way past the point that you could treat me that badly, Wonwoo,” you point out. “You bought me diamonds; that clearly isn’t the type of thing a man capable of doing bad things to me would do.” 
“Would if I’m trying to get my way with you. Buy you pretty things to sweeten you up and make you crawl willingly into my bed,” he reasons and lets his gaze drag over you as if he’s making his point that it’s a very real possibility. Even if you both know that Wonwoo is not that kind of man, despite his status and how easy it would be to get his way with whatever woman he wants if he was cruel in that way.
“You could buy me all the pretty things in the world, and I wouldn’t do that,” you inform firmly.
“Don’t act like you haven’t checked me out; you’ve even said I’m attractive,” he reminds, letting his intense eyes lock with yours.
“And married; I’m not a homewrecker, Wonwoo,” you scoff. “If she wasn’t an issue, I think we both know things would be very different right now.” 
“Would you be wearing the necklace?” 
You hesitate before answering, not wanting to lie but knowing what you’re clearly admitting to otherwise and knowing that it’s not something you ever thought you’d say to a married man. Still, you do. You can’t help but be honest with Wonwoo about this; about the two of you. “Yeah, and not much else.” 
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502 notes · View notes
synity · 2 months ago
Note
can i request for a mafia/ceo wonwoo fanfic!
BILLIONAIRE
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(mafia boss!Jeon Wonwoo x FemReader)
*MafiaAU, slow-burn, intense yet romantic setup, romantic*
They called him The Billionaire Ghost. Jeon Wonwoo, the man who owned half the city yet remained a shadow within it. He didn’t attend galas. He didn’t sign his name. And no one who crossed him ever did it twice.
You hadn’t meant to meet him.
You weren’t supposed to be anywhere near his world.
But when your brother got into debt with the wrong people, and you stormed into their headquarters demanding they not lay a finger on him he was there.
Sitting behind a marble desk in a sleek black suit, sipping wine like a king in his court.
"Brave," he murmured, looking you up and down. "Or stupid."
You didn’t flinch. “He didn’t mean to cross you.”
“I don’t care what he meant.”
Silence.
Then, slowly, he set his glass down.
“But I’ll make you a deal.”
That was the beginning.
You worked for him now not as a maid, not as a secretary, but as his. You ran errands, sat beside him in meetings, traveled with him, and, slowly, became something of a confidante. Others feared him. You saw something different.
How he carried grief in his quiet moments. How he drank coffee only after 10 a.m. How his voice dropped when he was tired. How he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.
He never touched you. Never crossed a line.
But his eyes whispered things his lips never did.
And it was driving you insane.
One night, the city was silent under the weight of a summer storm. You were in his penthouse, curled on the velvet couch as thunder cracked the sky. He stood near the window, a cigarette between his fingers, staring into the dark like he owned it.
“Why did you let my brother go?” you asked quietly.
He didn’t turn around.
“Because you walked in.”
“And that’s enough reason?”
“It was for me.”
He faced you then dark hair messy, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and something unreadable swimming in his gaze.
“I don’t care about debt,” he said. “I care about loyalty.”
“And do you think I’m loyal?”
“You haven’t run yet.”
A beat.
Then two.
You rose from the couch, walked over, and stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder.
“I’m not afraid of you,” you said.
“I know.”
Another beat.
“I’m afraid of how I feel around you.”
His voice was so quiet you almost missed it.
Your heart tripped.
But before you could reply, a knock shattered the moment.
Wonwoo’s face hardened. Business again.
Days passed.
Things changed.
He kept you close, closer than ever. Every night he returned home to you. You shared space, laughter, even silence. But something kept pulling him back. A line he wouldn’t cross. You felt it when your hands brushed, when he leaned in too close only to pull away.
Until one night
Gunshots.
He came home bloodied, hands trembling, barely able to stand. You screamed his name, catching him as he stumbled.
“Wonwoo!”
“I’m okay,” he whispered. “Just a scratch—”
“Lie down, now!”
You stitched him up with trembling fingers, tears falling silently down your cheeks. He watched you.
“I’m not letting you die on me,” you snapped.
“I won’t,” he said. “Not until I tell you.”
You paused.
Tell you what?
His hand gripped yours.
“I’m in love with you.”
The world stopped.
“I’ve been in love with you since the day you walked into my hell and made it feel like home.”
You didn’t speak. Couldn’t.
So you kissed him instead.
And he kissed you like he was starving.
Since that night, everything changed.
He still ran the empire. Still made enemies disappear. But now he had you.
He bought you your favorite pastries every morning.
Told you you were the only person who could look into his soul and not flinch.
Built you an art room in the penthouse because he saw you sketching once.
And whenever he had to leave, he’d whisper, “You’re the reason I come back.”
But the world didn’t like seeing him happy.
One night, a hitman sent a message your name written in red across his car windshield.
Wonwoo was gone in an instant, hunting the traitor, setting fire to everything in his path.
When he returned, blood on his hands and a storm in his chest, you waited by the door.
You didn’t ask what happened.
You just hugged him like he wasn’t a monster, but a man.
And he broke in your arms.
“I thought I lost you,” he whispered.
“You never will.”
He proposed in the least dramatic way possible.
A quiet dinner.
Your favorite dish.
A single black velvet box.
“I could buy the world,” he said, “but I only want one thing.”
You opened the box simple, elegant, perfect.
“Yes,” you breathed.
And he smiled, finally, like he had everything.
422 notes · View notes
nerdycheol · 4 months ago
Text
Yours to Keep || J.W.W
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pairing: Wonwoo x reader
wc: 4.5k
genre: fluff, angst, long-distance relationship
(a/n): missing Wonwoo hours is officially on. I just wanted to post something for him before he leaves. Also thankyou cel ( @mylovesstuffs ) and ro ( @shinysobi ) for beta reading ^^
summary: Before leaving for military service, Wonwoo hands you a disposable camera, saying, "Take a picture whenever you think of me." At first, you laugh it off, but as the days pass, you find yourself reaching for the camera more often than you expected
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The Departure
The night before he leaves, the air feels different—heavier, like the weight of unsaid words is pressing down on both of you.
You sat together on the couch, a blanket draped over both your legs, the TV playing a movie neither of you were really watching. Wonwoo’s arm was resting along the back of the couch, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his skin, but he hasn’t touched you in a while. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he knows the moment he does, it’ll make leaving that much harder.
You stole a glance at him. His face is calm, unreadable, but you know him too well to be fooled. His fingers drummed softly against the fabric of his sweatpants—restless. He’s been like this all evening, like he’s bracing himself for the inevitable.
“…You should go to bed soon,” he finally says, his voice quieter than usual. “You have to wake up early.”
Your throat tightens. So do you, you want to say, but instead, you shake your head. “Not sleepy.”
He exhales a soft laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Liar.”
You don’t argue. Instead, you pull your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself. He watches you for a moment before reaching behind him.
“Here.” He handed you something small, something rectangular. You took it hesitantly, fingers brushing his, and when you looked down, you saw a disposable camera resting in your palm.
You blink up at him. “Wonwoo, what is this?”
He shrugs, looking almost shy. “Just thought… whenever you think of me, you could take a picture. So you won’t forget me.”
Your heart aches at the way he says it—lightly, like it’s a joke, but the meaning behind it is anything but.
“Idiot,” you murmur, gripping the camera tighter. “Like I could forget you.”
He smiles at that, but there’s something in his expression that makes your chest tighten. You don’t want this moment to end, because when it does, it means morning will come, and with it, the goodbye you’re not ready for.
But time is cruel, and before you know it, the night slips away.
The train station is busy, filled with people coming and going, but to you, it feels like you and Wonwoo are standing in your own little world.
You’ve never been good at goodbyes. You hate how they always feel too short, no matter how long they actually last.
Wonwoo shifts his bag on his shoulder, looking down at you. “You’ll be okay, right?”
You nod, but you don’t think you really mean it. He sees right through you, sighing as he reaches out to ruffle your hair—something he always does when he doesn’t know how else to comfort you.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
You bite your lip, willing yourself not to cry. “Liar.”
That makes him laugh, and for a moment, it’s just like any other day. Like he isn’t about to step onto that train, like he isn’t about to leave for months.
The announcement echoes overhead. Wonwoo glanced at the clock, then back at you. His eyes soften.
“Guess this is it.”
You swallow past the lump in your throat. “Yeah.”
He hesitates, then reaches for your hand, squeezing it once before letting go. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. You feel the words lingering between you, the ones he’s never been good at saying out loud.
You watched as he took a step back, then another. And then, with one last lingering glance, he turns and walks away.
Your fingers tighten around the camera in your pocket.
The first picture you take is of the train as it disappears into the horizon.
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The First Few Weeks
The first thing you notice is the silence.
Wonwoo never filled a room with noise—he wasn’t the type. But the absence of him is loud in a way that makes your chest feel hollow. You woke up the morning after he left, instinctively reaching for the other side of the bed, only to find cool, untouched sheets. You tell yourself it’s fine. You’ll get used to it.
Except you don’t.
The first week is the hardest. Every little thing reminds you of him. The empty coffee mug sitting on the kitchen counter because you keep forgetting that you only need one now. The folded-up blanket on the couch, still carrying the faintest trace of his cologne. The Spotify playlist he made for you playing on shuffle while you try to focus on anything that isn’t the aching space he left behind.
You held out for a call, a text—something. But the military isn’t generous with communication, and you know you won’t hear from him often. You try to be rational about it. You tried to focus on other things. But every time your phone lit up, your heart stumbled, hoping it was him.
It never is.
You don’t want to admit how much you miss him. It’s embarrassing, really. He’s only been gone for a few days, and you’re acting like you’ve been separated for years. But the quiet moments are the worst—the ones where you have no distractions, nowhere to direct your thoughts.
And that’s when you remembered the camera.
It had been sitting on your nightstand since he gave it to you, untouched. You pick it up hesitantly, rolling it over in your hands.
"Whenever you think of me, take a picture."
You scoffed under your breath. He’s going to regret saying that.
Because the first picture you take is of his empty side of the bed—a silent complaint, a little jab at how much you miss him already. You didn't let yourself linger on it for too long, tossing the camera back onto the nightstand and climbing out of bed.
___
Days passed, and the camera became an extension of your routine.
You take pictures without thinking too hard about it, little pieces of your life that he’s no longer here to witness. The second picture is your morning coffee, still made in two mugs before you remember there’s no one to drink the other. The third is the bookshop you both love, his favorite aisle tucked into a quiet corner.
You find yourself narrating moments to him in your head, like he’s still beside you. Wonwoo, you wouldn’t believe the way our neighbor’s cat tried to steal my lunch today. Wonwoo, I went to that ramen place you like, and they gave me extra toppings because they felt bad I was eating alone.
You don’t say them out loud, but somehow, taking the pictures feels like sending a message. Like you’re keeping a record of your days, waiting to share them with him when he comes back.
___
One evening, you caught yourself reaching for your phone before realizing, again, that you couldn't call him. Frustrated, you grab the camera and snap a picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror—tired eyes, a messy ponytail, an expression that practically screams, "I miss you, idiot."
You roll your eyes at yourself. Pathetic.
Still, you didn't delete it.
Somewhere in the quiet, you started to realize—this wasn't just about missing him. This was proof. Proof that life is still moving, that you’re still finding ways to smile, to laugh, to exist, even in his absence.
And maybe, just maybe, when he finally came back, you’d hand him this little stack of memories and say—
"See? I never stopped thinking of you."
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The Changing Seasons
The world keeps turning, even when part of you feels frozen in time.
Autumn faded into winter, and with it, the sharpness of your grief softened. Missing Wonwoo doesn’t feel like an open wound anymore—it becomes a quiet, familiar ache, something that sits in your chest like a second heartbeat. You still woke up reaching for him, still caught yourself glancing at your phone too often, but the loneliness no longer consumed you.
Winter was harsh this year. The first snowfall blankets the city in white, and for a moment, it’s almost beautiful. You remember the way Wonwoo used to stick his hands into his coat pockets, his nose red from the cold, mumbling about how he’d rather be inside reading. The memory makes you smile, and without thinking, you grab the camera.
Click. A picture of the snow-covered street. The kind of scene he’d roll his eyes at but secretly find pretty.
The days were slow, but they passed. You kept moving forward, one foot in front of the other. Work keeps you busy, friends pull you into plans you’d rather avoid, but you go anyway—because that’s what Wonwoo would want.
You started writing him letters.
Not the kind you send—just scribbled thoughts on paper, folded neatly and tucked away. Some are short: I saw someone today who looked like you, and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. Others are longer, rambling about your day, the books you’ve been reading, the songs you’ve been listening to. It’s comforting, in a way, to pretend he’ll read them someday.
Then spring came, and with it, a shift.
The world thawed. Trees blossom, the air turns warm, and the weight on your shoulders lifts—just a little. It’s strange how time does that. How grief doesn’t disappear, but it changes shape, fitting itself into the life you’re still trying to live.
You took more pictures now. Not just for him, but for yourself.
The cherry blossoms are in full bloom—soft pink petals against the sky.
The first ice cream of the season, melting too fast in the sun.
A selfie, just to prove to yourself that you’re still here, still living.
There was a moment—just a fleeting one—where you thought, Maybe I’m okay.
Then summer arrived.
And so did his letter.
You recognized his handwriting instantly, your breath catching as you tore open the envelope. It was short, because Wonwoo had never been one for long-winded words.
"I miss you. Are you still taking pictures?"
Your hands shook as you held the paper.
And for the first time in months, you cried.
Not because of sadness. Not because of longing.
But because you finally understood.
This distance—it was temporary. Seasons change. Time moves. And eventually, he’ll come home.
And when he does, you’ll have a whole life’s worth of memories waiting for him.
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The Hardest Days
Some days pass in a blur—wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat. You go through the motions, keeping busy enough that the ache in your chest doesn’t have time to settle. But the hardest days?
The hardest days drag.
They stretch endlessly, pressing down on you until you feel like you might sink under the weight of them. They aren’t loud or dramatic; they don’t come with warning signs. Instead, they creep in quietly, disguised as ordinary moments that turn into reminders of how much you miss him.
__
The first bad day comes two weeks after Wonwoo leaves.
You were doing okay, keeping yourself distracted, until you stepped into your favorite bookstore—the one you used to visit together. At first, it felt fine. You even reached for a book you thought he’d like, flipping through the pages with a small smile.
Then, you glanced to your right.
His usual spot—third shelf from the entrance, where he’d always linger, eyes scanning the titles like he was searching for something he’d lost—was empty.
The realization hit you like a punch to the stomach. You could almost see him there, adjusting his glasses, tilting his head slightly in thought. You could hear his voice in your head, muttering about how he “wasn’t going to buy anything this time” only to walk out with three new books.
But he wasn’t there.
And for the first time since he left, you truly felt his absence.
You left without buying anything.
__
The days bleed into each other after that. Some are manageable. Others make you feel like time is moving too slowly, stretching the distance between you even further.
Then the second bad day comes.
It starts with an innocent notification—a new game update.
Wonwoo had been so excited about this one. He’d rambled about it for weeks, explaining all the new features in way too much detail, his eyes lighting up in that rare, boyish way. You’d teased him for it, but truthfully, you’d loved seeing him that excited.
Your fingers hover over your phone, debating whether to open the game.
But what’s the point? He’s not here to play with you. There won’t be any late-night matches, no playful competition, no quiet chuckles when you mess up and pretend it was lag.
Still, you tap the icon. The screen loads, and suddenly, your vision blurs.
Because there—at the top of your friend list—is his username, followed by the dreaded words:
"Last online: 14 days ago."
The tears come faster than you expect.
You stare at the screen for a long time, hands clenched tightly around your phone, chest aching in ways you don’t know how to fix. The world keeps moving, but for you, time feels frozen in the moment he left.
___
And then, the hardest day of them all.
It’s late—past midnight. You should have been sleeping, but instead, you were lying in bed, curled up under the blanket Wonwoo used to steal half of.
Your body feels heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and loneliness.
You roll over, reaching for your phone, because on nights like this, instinct takes over. You want to call him. Just to hear his voice, just to know he’s still there, even from miles away.
But you can’t.
So instead, you do something even more reckless.
You scroll up in your messages. Past the "good luck" text you sent before he left. Past the "I landed safely" reply he sent hours later. Past the little check-ins, the random inside jokes, the "I miss you too" he sent on a particularly bad night.
You scroll all the way back—weeks, months—until you find the voice messages.
Your fingers tremble as you press play.
"You always stay up too late, you know that?" Wonwoo’s voice filters through the speaker, quiet and familiar.
"I swear, if you don’t start sleeping earlier, I’m gonna—ugh, never mind. Just take care of yourself, okay?"
There’s a slight pause, then a soft chuckle.
"You’re probably rolling your eyes right now."
A shaky breath leaves your lips.
"Alright, go to sleep. Goodnight, dummy."
The recording ends. The silence that follows is deafening.
And that’s when it really hits.
It’s not just that you miss him. It’s not just loneliness. It’s the fact that you can’t reach for him whenever you want. You can’t call him and expect an immediate answer. You can’t see him, can’t hear his real-time reactions, can’t fall asleep to the sound of him breathing beside you.
He’s gone.
And no amount of scrolling through old messages will change that.
So you do the only thing you can do.
You clutch the phone to your chest, squeeze your eyes shut, and let the tears fall.
Somewhere, across the distance, Wonwoo is probably doing the same.
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The Small Joys & Healing
Time has a funny way of moving. Some days stretch endlessly, the hours dragging with a weight that makes everything feel slower, heavier. And then, without warning, weeks slip past in a blur of routine and half-hearted distractions. You don’t know which is worse—feeling like you’re stuck in time or feeling like you’re moving too fast without him.
But eventually, somewhere in between the long nights and the quiet mornings, you start to find something like peace.
It’s not the kind of peace that makes the missing go away. No, that lingers, settling in your bones like a familiar ache. But it’s a softer kind of longing now—one that doesn’t consume you, one that reminds you that love doesn’t disappear with distance.
___
The first few weeks were the hardest, but the world didn’t stop turning just because he was gone.
You still wake up every morning, even when the bed feels emptier than usual. You still go about your day, even when every little thing reminds you of him. The bookstore you both used to visit, the ramen place he always craved at the most random times, the late-night walks that feel lonelier without his quiet presence beside you.
At first, you avoid these things. It feels wrong to do them without him, like you’re leaving him behind somehow.
But then, slowly, you do return.
You find yourself stepping into the bookstore one afternoon, the familiar scent of paper and ink wrapping around you. It’s instinct to glance toward the third shelf—the one where he always stood, hands tucked into his pockets as he scanned the titles. He’s not there, of course. But you let yourself linger anyway.
Your fingers brush against the spines of books you know he would’ve picked. A classic novel with poetic prose. A sci-fi story with a plot twist he’d figure out before the halfway mark. A historical book he’d read just to debate the accuracy of it later.
Before you know it, you’re picking one up.
Not just for him. For you.
Maybe, when he comes back, you can tell him about it. Maybe you’ll finally have something to recommend to him instead of the other way around.
The thought makes your chest feel lighter.
__
Then, there’s the laughter.
It sneaks up on you one evening while you’re on a call with friends. They’re arguing over something ridiculous—whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza, or maybe which video game has the worst NPC dialogue. You’re half-listening, offering the occasional hum of agreement, until someone casually brings up Wonwoo.
“He’s probably trying to act all serious in training,” one of them says. “But I bet he still zones out mid-conversation like usual.”
The memory of Wonwoo’s blank, unreadable expressions comes rushing back, and before you can stop it, a laugh bubbles up. A real one.
And just like that, you remember:
Wonwoo might be far away, but he’s not gone.
He’s still him, still existing, still part of the world you share.
It’s a simple realization, but it lifts something inside you.
You laugh again that night, and for the first time in weeks, it doesn’t feel like you’re betraying the ache in your chest.
___
And then come the letters.
They don’t arrive often, but when they do, they feel like tiny lifelines. A piece of him, sent across the miles, just for you.
The first one is short, the paper slightly crinkled at the edges. His handwriting is neat but rushed, like he was scribbling between moments of exhaustion.
"I’m fine. Tired, but fine. It’s weird not having my phone. I keep reaching for it before remembering I can’t just text you. I hope you’re eating well."
You trace your fingers over the ink, swallowing the lump in your throat. Even in the middle of everything, he’s still thinking of you.
"Oh, and don’t let them trick you into watching horror movies without me. You know you’ll regret it."
A small, breathy laugh escapes you. He knows you too well.
That night, you sit at your desk with a pen in hand, writing your own letter back. You tell him about your days, the little things he might miss—the bookstore visit, the ramen place, how your friends still argue over the same things. You try not to sound too sad, even though the words feel heavier than they should.
At the end, you add, “I miss you. But I’ll wait. Just don’t forget about me, okay?”
You don’t expect an immediate reply, but when his next letter arrives weeks later, your heart pounds as you unfold the paper.
"I could never forget you. Don’t even joke about that."
And just like that, the waiting feels a little easier.
___
Healing doesn’t come all at once. Some days are lighter, some days are heavy. There are moments when the longing feels unbearable, when all you want is to hear his voice, to see him sitting beside you, to feel the warmth of his hand in yours. But there are also moments of quiet contentment—when the missing turns into something gentler, something that reminds you that he’s still yours, even from a distance.
And maybe that’s enough.
For now.
Because love like this—steady, unshaken, unwavering—is worth waiting for.
And when he comes back?
You’ll be right there, waiting.
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The Return
The moment you spot him, the air in your lungs disappears.
You’ve been preparing for this day for months—counting down, dreaming about how it would feel to finally see him again. But none of those daydreams could’ve prepared you for this.
For him.
He steps past the arrival gate, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his uniform crisp and perfectly fitted. His posture is straighter, his movements sharper, his presence heavier. It’s him, but at the same time, it isn’t.
Wonwoo has always been broad, but now he’s different—stronger. His shoulders are wider, his arms more defined, muscles straining slightly under the fabric of his uniform. Even his stance is different, more solid, more certain.
And his face.
Your heart stutters at the sight of him.
The softness of youth has faded from his features, replaced by sharper angles, a sculpted jawline, a quiet confidence that wasn’t there before. His skin is tanned, kissed by the sun after months of training outdoors. His lips are slightly chapped, a little more serious than you remember. And his eyes—
They meet yours across the crowded terminal, and everything else ceases to exist.
Your chest tightens.
His gaze is the same.
Still warm, still familiar, still your Wonwoo.
For a second, he doesn’t move. He just stands there, watching you, taking you in. And then—
The corner of his lips twitches. A breath of a smile.
And just like that, you’re running.
You push past strangers, the sound of your own heartbeat drowning out the noise around you. He sees you coming, and before you even reach him, his bag is slipping from his shoulder, arms already opening—
Then you crash into him.
He’s solid. So, so solid. Your arms wrap around him, and for a second, he stumbles back from the force of your embrace. But then his hands find your waist, gripping you tightly, pressing you closer.
And oh.
He feels different.
The Wonwoo you remember was warm and comforting, but this Wonwoo is unshakable. His back is firm under your touch, his arms secure around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. He smells like fabric softener and something distinctively him, something you missed more than you can ever put into words.
“Wonwoo,” you breathe, voice muffled against his shoulder.
He exhales shakily. “Yeah,” he murmurs, like he can’t believe this is real either.
You squeeze your eyes shut, hands fisting the back of his uniform. He doesn’t let go. Neither do you.
When you finally pull back, your hands instinctively find his face, palms pressing against his cheeks. He lets you look at him, watching as you take in every detail—every sun-kissed inch of his skin, every small change time has left behind.
“You got buff,” you whisper, half teasing, half awed.
His lips quirk slightly. “That’s the first thing you say?”
You laugh, a little breathless, shaking your head. “You just—” You pause, eyes sweeping over him again. “You look different.”
Wonwoo tilts his head. “Yeah?”
You nod, fingers brushing over his jaw, feeling the rougher skin there. “But you’re still you.”
His expression softens, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. His hands, still resting on your waist, tighten just slightly. “Still me,” he echoes.
You smile. “Still mine.”
Something shifts in his gaze. His thumb brushes against your hip, and for a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s memorizing this moment, memorizing you.
Then, voice quieter than before, he murmurs, “Always.”
And with that, he takes your hand, laces his fingers with yours—strong, sure, steady.
“Let’s go home.”
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Epilogue: Home
The apartment feels the same, yet entirely different.
It smells like the candles you kept burning, like fresh linen and the faint scent of coffee. The same bookshelf stands against the wall, still overflowing with your shared collection of novels and mangas. The couch still has the blanket you always curled up in, the one that used to smell like him before it faded away.
But now—he’s here.
Wonwoo stands in the center of the living room, eyes scanning the space like he’s reacquainting himself with it, like he’s trying to remember what it felt like to belong here. His duffel bag rests by the door, abandoned the moment he stepped inside. His jacket is slung over the back of a chair, and he’s wearing the plain black tee and gray sweatpants you had set out for him, finally out of that uniform that made him feel distant—unreachable.
His hair is shorter, his shoulders broader. His stance is different, like the months away have reshaped him in ways that are still settling. But his eyes—they are the same. Warm. Familiar. Home.
And then his gaze landeds on what you’re holding.
The disposable camera.
A slow smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “You still have that?”
You nod, turning it over in your hands, fingers brushing over the familiar ridges of the plastic body. “Of course. You gave it to me before you left.”
He had slipped it into your hands that day at the departure gate, voice teasing but eyes serious. "Take pictures. So I don’t miss too much."
So you did.
Of your morning coffee, of the stray cat that lingered by the bookstore, of the first snowfall that settled on the windowsill. Silly things. Little things. Things you wished he could’ve seen.
Wonwoo stepped closer, his fingers ghosting over the camera. “How many are left?”
You glanced at the film counter. “One.”
His expression shifted—something unreadable flickering in his gaze before he reached out, fingers wrapping around the camera.
Click.
The shutter snaps before you can react.
Your eyes widen. “Wait, what—”
Wonwoo lowered the camera, the corners of his lips quirking up. “Wanted the last one to be of you.”
Your heart stutters.
You should’ve expected it. He has always been like this—quietly sentimental in ways that take you by surprise. But something about this moment, about the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to memorize every detail—it makes warmth bloom in your chest.
You reach for the camera, setting it gently on the table before stepping closer, wrapping your arms around him.
Wonwoo exhales, his hold firm, grounding. His chin rests against the top of your head, and for the first time in months, you feel complete.
“You’re back,” you whisper.
His lips brush against your temple. “I’m back.”
A pause.
Then, softer—“I missed you.”
Your fingers tighten around the fabric of his shirt, your throat tightening with emotion. “I missed you too.”
Outside, the city hums with life, the world moving as it always has. But here, in this small apartment, time stills.
And as you stand there in his arms, the disposable camera sitting beside you, its final photo safely tucked away inside—you know you’ll never need it to remember this moment.
(join my taglist) ^^
1K notes · View notes
dokries · 4 months ago
Text
things seventeen take pride in doing for their partners
pairing: seventeen x gender neutral reader
genre: fluff, established relationship
word count: 2.2k
warnings: mentions of food, some kissing
author note: hello! i’m alive!! thank you anon for requesting this, and i’m so sorry it took…literally 5 months to write this 😭 i hope you enjoy it though! thank you to my awesome friends who helped me write this <3 (honestly i have no idea where so much for chan came from but extra chan love!!)
masterlist
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seungcheol (s.coups) - buying you groceries
⟢ seungcheol is a provider, and he’d love to be the one getting you things, especially if it was something as important as groceries.
⟢ he’d totally just text you for a list, and expect you to just tell him exactly what you wanted—plus later, you’d get a bunch of pictures asking which brand or version you wanted of something to make sure he doesn’t get the wrong thing.
⟢ he’d want to pay for most, if not all of it—but he wants you to be comfortable with what he does, so you could both figure out who’s paying for it (though he’d definitely make sure to pay for the small things at least).
⟢ he has his card (and wads of cash) and he’s not afraid to spend it on you—in fact, he prefers it that way.
⟢ it’s even better when you’re with him, since you can spend time together and do something essential (and perhaps it gives him a glimpse of what’ll come down the line, once you’re both older).
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jeonghan - getting you the hot gossip from work
⟢ jeonghan is…honestly, he’d make sure he picks up all the gossip for himself—and for you both to discuss later.
⟢ he wouldn’t be nosy per say…he’d just keep his ears open when there were people around talking, okay? it’s not his fault they’re so loud.
⟢ and of course, he’d retell it to you in such a way that you couldn’t help but be completely immersed in the drama because his manager is dating who?
⟢ there’s multiple lines of gossip that you both follow based on who you’re talking about, and each week there’s at least one debrief session where the two of you sit down on the couch and you just absorb the information he gives you.
⟢ he’s glad to see the different expressions you make, and it makes him happy to see you so interested in something he’s telling you about, even if it’s something horrendous about his co-worker—and then when you snuggle up next to him, ready to fall asleep he gives you a small smile and pats your head in contentment.
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jisoo (joshua) - buying you flowers or little trinkets
⟢ i think that while joshua’s love language is more like quality time, he seems like the type of person to also buy you flowers every few weeks—or whenever the flowers he previously got you wilt.
⟢ he’d totally get a bouquet for you and a flower for himself to make sure he knew exactly when to get you some new ones.
⟢ obviously, it’ll be your favourite flowers! or just ones that remind him of you, depending on the week.
⟢ if you’re allergic to flowers, he’d get you chocolate or something else you really like—it doesn’t have to be exclusively flowers :>
⟢ he’d see little deer characters and think it would remind you of him, so he would drop them over at your place so you’d always have a way to remember him! (you’d definitely have a little deer and cinnamoroll collection at home somewhere).
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junhui (jun) - cooking for you
⟢ even though jun is busy, he knows you are too, so he makes sure to make dinner for you when you get home.
⟢ he immediately rushes you out of the kitchen when you try to help and shushes your protests.
⟢ he’d beg you to just let him cook for you—unless you really wanted to cook yourself. at that point, he would make sure to be the trustiest assistant chef you’ve ever had, just to make it a little easier.
⟢ he just enjoys seeing you have something he made for you and the smile you give him afterwards always makes it worth it.
⟢ if he’s not there for dinner, he makes sure to leave a packaged meal for you in the fridge, complete with a sweet sticky note telling you to eat well and text him a cat meme when you see it.
⟢ he’d make sure to note down your favourite foods, and try to remake some of the things you’ve liked when you both go out on dates to make you happy—because it makes him happy too.
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soonyoung (hoshi) - bringing you snacks when you’re busy
⟢ if soonyoung noticed you hadn’t gotten up to get food or drink water in a while, he would come in himself, giving you a plate of fruit or whichever snack you liked the most with a water bottle to keep by your side as you worked.
⟢ he’d do this even in the late hours, when you were studying for an exam or an important report for work, and give you something sweet as a treat—and a reminder that no matter what happens, he cares.
⟢ if you didn’t mind, he’d just sit with you in the same room and do something else to pass the time so you wouldn’t feel alone.
⟢ if he couldn’t be with you but knew you were working or studying long hours, he’d get food delivered to you—or deliver it to you himself again, showing up on your doorstep later at night, hoping a hug and a good meal will energize you.
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wonwoo - fixing all your tech issues
⟢ honestly, this is something he’d be really good at.
⟢ like yes, he’s good at so many other things but as soon as you run into any problem whatsoever, he’d know how to help—even if he did have to watch a youtube tutorial or read a guide for your tv.
⟢ he’d fix his glasses right after he managed to fix that weird glitch where your google results were all in a different language or your phone would keep shutting down on you.
⟢ would definitely guide you through fixing anything if he couldn’t be there, and wake up sleepily to facetime so he could see the problem—his glasses askew and his bed hair on full display.
⟢ wonwoo would be proud to call himself your tech guy, especially if it made you smile—and besides, he’s happy he can help you with any challenges, even if it’s something simple.
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jihoon (woozi) - planning surprise dates
⟢ jihoon, honestly, spends a lot of time on his own in the studio, and while you visit, he really knows he needs to get out of his second home sometimes—and a date with you is a good way to do that.
⟢ he’d do it shyly, calling you up to first ask if you were busy, and then ask if you could come meet him at the studio (he…can’t drive, otherwise he would pick you up.)
⟢ it’d be nothing much in his eyes: a stroll at a park nearby, learning something new, going out for dinner—simple things that were better when he did them with you. 
⟢ sometimes he’d just show up at your home with flowers, his face red, since he’d been encouraged by soonyoung to do so and be “more romantic for once!” (or at least, that’s how soonyoung saw it. he didn’t really know about the archive of songs that jihoon had written inspired by you, and you had only seen a few of them anyway.)
⟢ he’d always make sure to look into places where you would be interested so you could go together, and he could watch you be entertained by something you wanted to do—even if it wasn’t something he would do himself. 
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seokmin (dokyeom) - notes of encouragement
⟢ seokmin’s the type of person to send long, long texts about how much he loves you and how proud he is of you every so often, especially if you’re busy and he can’t see you as much as he wants to!
⟢ he’d leave little notes around the kitchen after weekly movie night, so that when you wake up the next morning, he can see your reaction when you see his shameless puns on the colourful paper—which are all definitely related to whatever you watched. or you know, dad jokes. one of the two.
⟢ if he ever brought you lunch while you were out, he’d leave a little note telling you to eat well and message him so he knows you’re doing okay!
⟢ he wants to make sure you know you’re loved and when you write your own notes for him, he just about melts, giving you a gentle peck on the forehead and a long hug until you both end up giggling.
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mingyu - fixing things around the house
⟢ yes, he may be clumsy but mingyu is always volunteering to build you new furniture or fix things you (or he) has broken.
⟢ every so often, he’ll just scan through the entire house under the pretense of cleaning for you when you’re busy, and creates a mental list of what to do. it’s like he’s trying to sneak around but it doesn’t really work because it’s so obvious where his gaze is.
⟢ he also loves to help you rearrange furniture too! like your own little interior design helper except you only pay him in cuddles on the couch…wherever you two put it.
⟢ would totally text you pictures of furniture if he goes to ikea and asks if you want them so he can just buy them for you (and so you can have a little date at home building whatever it is).
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minghao (the8) -  watering your plants / taking care of your pets
⟢ he would show up early at your door, ready to help out if he was available—and something he would always do is take care of your babies (plants and/or pets!)
⟢ he’d water your plants for you, leaving a note to remind you to not do the same later, and hum to them to help them grow faster and stay healthy.
⟢ he’d also make sure to help out with grooming or feeding a pet—whatever you needed so you could focus on yourself first.
⟢ if you don’t have either, well he’d take care of the sleepy you by making sure you get through your morning swiftly and happily.
⟢ he’d be proud of making sure you were alright in the mornings, despite how hard it could be some days.
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seungkwan - making sure you’re active
⟢ seungkwan loves to do sports and go on hikes and the such, and i think that he would want you to be with him!
⟢ obviously, he wouldn’t force you to but hey, you do need to stay active, and it’s better if it’s with him than on your own—plus, it’s more fun by his side.
⟢ he would totally buy you matching jackets to go hiking in, and always pick activities that you’re comfortable with doing.
⟢ he lights up every time you would say you’re having fun and would run over and give you a quick kiss before continuing your badminton match.
⟢ once you’re both tired out, it’s time for cuddles on the couch…and maybe a quick cheesy rom-com where you can both make fun of the protagonists.
⟢ eventually, he can see the difference in your strength and stamina, and it reminds him to keep working hard too, because you do the same for him.
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hansol (vernon) - remembering you
⟢ hansol is a bit of a forgetful guy but he would never forget you (well, for the most part at least; he still has his moments). 
⟢ you’re brought up casually in most conversations he has simply because you’re so important to him that you can be brought up anytime.
⟢ everything and anything ends up reminding him of you, even if it’s not meant to. he’d tell you about most of them because he loves getting a text back full of love, or a smile on your face as a reply.
⟢ even if you’re not present, he’s always hyping you up without realizing. 
⟢ with you, he’s always sending you cat memes and posts in general saying “us” or “u n me fr” 
⟢ he takes pride in simply knowing you, and having the ability to be around you so much :)
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chan (dino) - driving you around
⟢ we’ve all seen the dingo video where chan drives a fan somewhere, right? yeah that’s him on the daily with you.
⟢ you’re his passenger princess !! (gender neutral <3) and he makes sure you know it, always offering you a ride no matter where you need to go!
⟢ the grocery store? your friend’s house? the optometrist? [insert any ridiculous place he doesn’t need to accompany you to]? he’s already waiting for you outside.
⟢ this goes even if you’re fully capable of driving yourself because he knows it can be tiring getting on the road some days, but he’ll always brave the bad traffic if it’s for you. 
⟢ knight in shining armour? no, he’s your knight in a really nice car, one that, in his mind, has your name all over the passenger seat. 
⟢ other than that though, he would offer to take you for a late night drive often, with your choice of music on the aux as he drives you over to a spot he researched about weeks ago because it was the perfect couple spot (at least, that’s what it is according to google).
⟢ he’d have a huge smile on his face every time you waved at him before opening the door and plopping in right next to his side, where he could sneak glances at you while waiting for the light to turn green.
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thank you for reading ‎♡ - moon :>
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nonranghaes · 9 months ago
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"do you think i'd be a dumb cat?"
it's late, and you're snuggled up in wonwoo's arms, feeling the way his shoulders shake a little as he softly laughs at the out-of-nowhere question. you just smile, intertwining your legs with his own a little more, holding him a little tighter.
"why do you think that?" his voice is a little raspy this late in the day, and you can hear how tired he is... but not enough that he's drifted off already.
you half-shrug as best as you can. "i think i'd be one of those cats who sticks their head under the sink and tries to drink, only for it to drip off and miss entirely." it's a silly thought that makes you smile, and you snuggle in. "and you'd be my smart black cat boyfriend who's amazing and a genius and just watches me be stupid."
another warm chuckle erupts from wonwoo, and he squeezes an arm around you. you're not always this cuddly, but he's not going to complain at all. "i think you'd be smart in other ways. like... you'd always know when our owner is sad." he runs his fingers along your side, staring off into space.
"... which of your friends do you think would be the best cat owner--"
"vernon." he doesn't miss a beat in the slightest. there's a long pause, and you look up to see the way wonwoo is smiling. "... should we text him?"
it's late. but not late enough to not text vernon, at the same time, a text the two of you discussed together: would you still love us if you found out we were turned into cats?
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buntanteen · 2 months ago
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svt fic recs list <3 - svt 10 year anniversary: wonwoo - sfw & nsfw
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summary: 10 sfw & 10 nsfw wonwoo x reader insert fics :)
contains: 18+ nsfw (mdni!!) majority is afab reader
✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩
✩ sfw section ✩
1. ❥ You’re mad at BF!Wonwoo, but he decided to make it a SEVENTEEN problem - @vernonverse
this was TOOOOOOO funny. he was reallllyy going out of his way making everyone suffer kjfgbdkj
2. ❥ bf!wonwoo thoughts - @boorines
quality time!! (my lil extrovert self LOVESSS doing everything with everyone omgjnfv) the i don't think i could survive flirty wonwoo omfggg
3. ❥ a shot in the dark - @xinganhao
perfect for when you're in your "wonwoo is enlisted" feels :,)
4. ❥ wonwoo random twitter au series: one | two | three | four - @wonuism
reader is me and i am reader. we are one in these
5. ❥ idol!wonwoo bf texts - @cheoliedollie
loving??? caring?!?!? silly?!?!? YESSSSSSSSSS MUHAHA
6. ❥ dating wonwoo feels like.., - @ssentimentals
dating wonwoo would feel like everything i'm looking for (WHY DOES HE SOUND SO DAMN GOOD HERE AHHH)
7. ❥ wonwoo headcanons pt. 1 | pt. 2 - @wonuism
he's such a gentle sweet lover :,) what if i just- *faints*
8. ❥ wonwoo bf habits - @odxrilove
THE SHOULDER MOVE EEEEEEEEEEE KJSGBFDK NOMS??! WARMING UP A TOWEL FOR MEEEEEEEEEEEE? HEHE
9. ❥ love languages: jeon wonwoo - @cxffecoupx
i loveeeeeeee the idea of someone being this thoughtful and wanting to be spending quality time with me :,)
10. ❥ you vs the universe - @cheolism-archive
“get it together, mother.” HAHA PLSSSSSSSSS (the way nonu reacted in the reader getting hit by a ball story made me sooo soft :,) the way he takes care of reader?? that's my guyyy)
✩ nsfw section ✩
1. ❥ Stripper Joke - @hoshifighting
the CONFIDENCE from reader versus wonwoo's shyness?!?!?! AHHHHHHHH
2. ❥ blindsided | expansion blindsided!wonwoo - @studioeisa & @xinganhao
there's just something so hot and attractive about glasses wearers and wonwoo wears them sooooooooooo well and he's sooooooo dumbly hot in this
3. ❥ perv wonwoo x roommate reader pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 - @rubyreduji
he's so disgusting in this...(why am i into it!!?)
4. ❥ 21:34 - @eomayas
heheheh HEHEHEHHEEHHE (i thoroughly enjoyed this)
5. ❥ “warm-up” - @pochaccoups
getting fucked and getting snacks afterwards?!?!?!? FUCK YES
6. ❥ we can’t be friends (wait for your love) - @eomayas
AHHHHHHHHHHH THE SEX THE CONFESSION THE AHHHH
7. ❥ gamer bf! wonwoo - @svtswhorehouse
...THIS IS ALL I'VE EVER WANTED HEHEH
8. ❥ desperate - @toruro
fucking the horny out of reader?!?! OOOOOOOOOOOOHHH
9. ❥ the peephole - @rubyreduji
this concept goes CRAZYYYYYYYYY
10. ❥ watching him masturbate - @hoshifighting
*sigh* it'd be so pretty watching this
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cheolaholic · 3 months ago
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bound to you; jww (trailer !!)
the world will burn before he lets you go.
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abo universe • mafia au • arranged marriage • fluff, smut, angst • hurt-comfort
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pairing; jeon wonwoo x f!reader | wc; 22k | rating; 18+ explicit nsfw
summary; With a subtle fire growing between two vastly different souls, are they doomed to surrender to a bond that binds them together? Or... are they exactly what each other need?
contains; mafia boss! wonwoo, florist! reader, alpha! wonwoo, omega! reader, reader knows how to fight back/stand her ground even though she’s submissive, right hand man! woozi, beta! svt members (cheol, woozi, gyu, vernon & chan), mentions of JxW, wonwoo is unhinge but not too unhinged, woozi encouraging/supporting wonwoo to be more unhinged, wonwoo wears glasses, very subtle “where is my wife!?” trope, not really sure who fell first and who fell harder, unplanned pregnancy, the honeymoon scene is sweet AND nasty
mature/trigger warnings; dom! wonwoo, sub! reader, big dick! wonwoo, knotting, biting/marking kink, size kink, use of sex toys, g-spot stimulation, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you do the nasty), mating press, implied sex marathon when reader is in heat, somewhat of an aftercare, reader is extremely horny when in heat, wonwoo doesn’t mind bcs he’s just as horny and has really high stamina, tummy bulge, creampies, squirting, that one business proposal scene, drugs (heat inducers, heat/rut suppressants), forced drugging, weapons (guns, knives, needles etc), abduction, violence (it’s a mafia au so, yea), mentions of miscarriage, etc
petnames; his (Nonu, Alpha), hers (Doll, Babydoll)
a/n; was lowkey stressing about this fic for a bit ngl but WOOHOO NEW FIC COMING SOON !! read it now on my patreon, or you can wait til 30th April 2025 KST for it to be released here & ao3~ taglist is closed !! see you all in my next work !!
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Your tone came out sharper than you intended when you replied, “You think you can control that?”
A sly smirk tugs at his lips, “Control? It’d be fun to break you, sure, but… I quite like the idea of having a feisty Omega by my side. Believe me, babydoll, I know what it’s like to prove yourself to be seen and acknowledged. I had to do the same to prove it to my father and grandfather. You didn’t think I was handed this position just like that, did you?”
"I don’t doubt you had to fight for it," you say quietly. "But I’m not here for a power struggle. Not with you, not with anyone."
He shifts slightly, giving your thigh a firm squeeze. “Look, babydoll, I don’t expect you to bend over my desk or lap whenever I tell you to. But, I do expect you to listen to me when it comes to your safety or if you’re ever caught in the crossfire of my dealings. Is that understood?”
You meet his gaze, feeling a shiver run down your spine. The grip he had on your thigh had goosebumps rising, but the touch wasn’t just possessive; it was also protective. A silent reminder.
“I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself, babydoll. But being capable doesn’t mean you have to face every danger alone, and in my world, in my life, it’s not kind to the unprepared despite their capabilities to be able to stand up for themselves.”
You bite back the words you want to say, about how you weren’t some fragile porcelain doll. That you didn’t need him to look after you like you’re some helpless Omega –
“I’m not asking you to give up the control you have over your life. I can see as clear as day that you’ve been able to manage just fine without an Alpha.” Oh.
“What I’m asking from you is to trust me when it matters. I know this marriage is out of convenience, for the sake of the mating bond, but you’re not someone I’m willing to let slip through the cracks either. Not without a fight.”
His words pulled your defenses down just a little, but you still held on tight to the edges of your resolve. Perhaps it was because of the many judgemental and snide comments you’ve received from others, especially Alphas, in the past that made you want to argue with him. The way he speaks, so calm and measured, you were itching to fight back.
But, something in his eyes stops you. There was no sign of mockery, no superiority – just a raw honesty you’d never thought you’d see in an Alpha. Much less the one that practically rules over the entire city.
“I didn’t ask for any of this…” You voiced out, sounding quieter than you’d intended. “I didn’t ask for you to be my mate. I didn’t ask for you to try and protect me.”
While he doesn’t flinch at your words, there’s a shift in his posture, a subtle tense in his shoulders that tells you he isn’t completely unaffected by your words.
“I know, babydoll,” his tone now tinged with something that feels like understanding, “But, believe me when I say that I am not asking for your submission. I’m asking for your trust. If I wanted to control you, I would’ve made that clear six months ago.”
“Can’t believe those bastards had to wait six months to do this stupid party…” you mumbled, cheeks heating up as you realised you sound like a girl throwing a little tantrum.
Wonwoo chuckles, “Well, our schedules have been overlapping. I think they expected us to go on a honeymoon for a while.”
“Tch, as if I’d ever want to be on the same bed as you.”
“Moving back to the topic earlier, I’m not asking for a leash, babydoll,” his voice is low, almost soothing. “I’m asking you to let me stand by your side when the world gets too heavy. Because it will. And when that happens... I don’t want you to face it alone. All I ask for is your trust and to let me understand you.”
You’re unsure of what to say next, the weight of his gaze making it difficult to think clearly. You’ve spent almost your entire life resisting the idea of relying on anyone, but here he is, asking for something as simple as your trust.
The sincerity in his words linger, and for the first time, you wonder if you’ve misjudged the Alpha. Maybe he wasn’t like the others that were trying to force their way into an Omega’s life. Maybe he wasn’t looking to bend or break an Omega so they’d be solely dependent on their Alpha.
Maybe he too was looking for something different. Something that goes beyond fated bonds and forced relationships.
You look at him, and for the first time, you allow yourself to wonder if there’s a part of you that could trust him.
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heartepub · 5 months ago
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if i loved you less
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summary. wonwoo's biggest gamble starts a week before valentine's day. pairing. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader genre/tags. non-idol!au, friends to lovers, bookworm!reader, spoilers for a 210-year old novel, wonwoo wins most creative confession, suggestive at the end wc. 2.9k suggested listening. pretty u, seventeen // dreams, the cranberries // andante andante, abba // i will, the beatles // library card, janani k. jha // aphrodite, the ridleys
notes. late to a hearts day posting, but pls accept this humble offering in between thesis cramming! i first pitched this to kae waaay back, but unfortunately it is not royal/period au (sorry ueueue). i read aspen's accidental one night stand ww and dug around my wip's for this in a fit of madness LMAOOO as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼
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“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Wonwoo hands you a package wrapped in brown paper, tied neatly with twine. Your eyes light up as you accept it with a soft thank you.
“Aren’t you a week early?”
“I know,” he replies simply. “I wanted to ask you to finish reading this by Friday.” Your brow furrows.
“Is it something I can finish by then?” Wonwoo nods. You feel the weight the parcel in your hands, considering his strange request.
“What brought this on?” You ask. 
The shift is subtle, but you notice it nonetheless—a flicker of something passing across his eyes, and his shoulders tensing up before he pulls them down again. Wonwoo looks away, as though steeling himself for something.
“It’s my reading recommendation.”
“Yours?” You straighten. Wonwoo’s never gifted a book to you before based on his own taste. He always based it off your reading list, after being hopelessly lost navigating a bookstore and asking the clerk for help, only to give you a book wildly different from your preferences.
You hold the book close to your chest. “Can I open it now?”
“No.”
“Fine,” you pout, then frown as a thought comes to you. “Wait. I remember telling you I’m on a ban right now.”
Normally, Wonwoo was scrupulous about following your rules, one of which being that he can’t gift you a book if your current priority was reading through the ones you already had.
He seems to weigh his words carefully before replying. “I just thought this one was too important to pass up.”
You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting. Trying to make your voice as soothing yet nonchalant as possible, you pull your lips up to a grin, thumbing the edge of the twine ribbon. “I suppose I can make an exception for my best friend.”
It seems to have the opposite effect.
There it is again—the subtle shift in his demeanor, the miniscule purse of his lip before Wonwoo speaks. “Do you have dinner plans, or are we doing movie night again?”
“Movie night sounds good. Any requests for food?”
Normally, Wonwoo would ask you to prepare ramyeon, especially after you had figured out Mingyu’s recipe, while he brought dessert. But his reply, like everything else in this conversation, is unexpected. “I’ll handle it.” He checks his watch before leveling you with an apologetic look. “I have to run. There’s a bunch of shit to do at work between, but I’ll see you on Friday?”
If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You’d never push him to say anything he wasn’t ready to share. You repeat this to yourself, even as you nod, maintaining your façade of soothing nonchalance.
“Yeah, see you.”
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For the past couple of years, Wonwoo’s gift of choice has always been a book. After your protests at the price of new titles and your steadfast allegiance to your library card, among other reasons, the rules had been laid out as follows:
Copies should, as much as possible, not be brand new. They could be from thrift stores, secondhand shops, yard sales, or those Facebook groups where owners sold their old titles. Only new releases would be the exception, and even then, indie bookstores should be the first place to look.
Refer to the Notion page of your current to-be-read list for possible titles.
If you were on a book buying ban, so is he; it’s bad enough that your shelves continue to groan under the weight of books still unread. 
The first rule was for your indulgence, too. You happened to take home a volume of the Diaries of Anaïs Nin only to find notes scribbled in the marginalia, and fell in love immediately. It’s a rare thing in your collection, but you do have someone’s old Letters to Milena and Giovanni’s Room, the latter with annotations in Arabic, of all languages.
You stare at the unwrapped gift, heart in your throat.
Emma.
Wonwoo must have been lying when he said it was his recommendation; you have your own well-worn copy, annotations and all, sitting in the corner of your shelf dedicated to Austen. Hands shaking, you open your messages, snapping a photo of the book laying on the desk.
You [picture] ??? wonwoo?? (Seen)
He sees it almost immediately; three dots appear onscreen.
aa wonu It’s a gift. Don’t overthink it. But I hope you won’t get mad.
You is it smth I should be mad abt?
aa wonu Up to you.
You you know i’ve read emma, right
aa wonu Have you started reading this one yet?
You turn to Chapter 1, and gasp. There, in black ink, is Wonwoo’s familiar scrawl, remarks littering the blank space between the heading and the text. You flip through the first half, seeing how he’d write anything from a smiley face to bracket off entire passages with an exclamation point. Some brackets and underlines have longer annotations beside them that you have yet to read.
It’s all in black pen—so characteristically Wonwoo, who wouldn’t be the type to use different colored highlighters and page flags, anyway.
You oh my god. wonwoo
aa wonu The last time I read a classic was in high school Don’t judge me too harshly. Please. See you Friday?
You hesitate before replying.
You yeah ofc! see you!!
Your thumbs are shaking too badly as you type the last message; the phone gets thrown on your bed, bouncing once before resting on the pillow. A hand comes up to cover your mouth. You stare at the book, mind whirring.
Years ago, there had been a time when you entertained the thought of dating Jeon Wonwoo. In night-outs where he’d offer to get you home, a hand on your back to keep you from stumbling as you’d fumble for keys that always ended up at the bottom of your bag. He had even taken to keeping a pair of slippers in his car, in your size, for you to change into when your feet were hurting. Wonwoo never told you—he just knew your foot size, just cared in the understated, quiet way he always did. When you found out, you remember thinking that this would be the kind of man you wouldn’t mind offering your heart to. Thought that obviously he’d only do something like that for someone he was in love with.
Now, of course, after his exes and your own, and no confession in sight, you had buried your wishful thinking in the deepest parts of your heart. You’d even grown to appreciate it more, finding comfort in the care that was independent of any romantic expectation.
Wonwoo, your best friend, chose, out of all the books to annotate and gift you, Emma. You know how the story goes. He knows you know how it goes. Yet Wonwoo’s thoughts are here, immortalized and entrusted into your hands, the same hands you have now buried your face in while trying to reel in your breaths.
Today, that bird you had deprived of the sun beats its wings against your ribcage, insistent once more. Your body is simultaneously numb and buzzing with energy, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to freeze up or run a few hundred laps.
It could be nothing—could be like that time with the slippers again where you allowed yourself to be caught in your wishful thinking. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it isn’t. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it is.
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You welcome Wonwoo in your apartment with a painfully bright grin, accepting his proffered bag of takeout before ushering him inside. He had offered only a soft hello, barely a smile on his face as he took off his shoes by your entrance. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep up any chatter while he washes his hands in your kitchenette, even as you busy yourself a few feet away with peeling off the tape on the plastic containers and wiping away any grease that leaked out.
“I’ll set up the table,” he breaks the silence, gaze unreadable. He’s already holding the two rice containers, and two pairs of chopsticks from your stash. 
You paste on a smile, tape still sticking to your fingers. “Sure.” 
He walks away. Not even when Wonwoo had broken up with his last partner, who made him choose between them and you, has it been this awkward. Steeling yourself, you join him, setting down the plate of chicken and bowl of steaming kimchi jjigae a safe distance from the laptop.
Before you begin eating, you hold up a hand for him to wait. Reaching into a nearby drawer, you pull out and offer your own present—a beta-release of a game he had been eyeing for some time now. Wonwoo’s eyes soften.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, as though he hadn’t been expecting you to gift him anything.
“Of course,” you respond immediately. Wonwoo glances at you before looking away. He always sits across you when you eat, and you catch the micro-changes in his expression as he shifts, staring hard at a spot on your floor before picking up his chopsticks. He looks at anything but you. The sound of the bamboo breaking seems to echo around the space.
Eventually, it’s too much for you to bear. You square your shoulders, inhaling a quick, sharp breath.
“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you begin, tentatively.
“…I thought about not coming,” he replies, raising his eyes to meet yours, which have not yet looked way from him. He looks away again. Something in your chest twists painfully, even if your body is buzzing with repressed adrenaline.
“Do you still want to watch a movie? Or are we gonna talk about it?”
Wonwoo’s eyes are guarded. “Is there anything to talk about?” he replies, an edge in his voice. “You never messaged after that day.” 
“I thought you wanted today to be the day we talked about it? Seemed like too big of a thing to discuss over text.” And you had spent the last week agonizing over what to feel, how to feel, what to say, and how to say it. He presses his lips together, fixing his gaze on the piece of napa cabbage resting on top of his rice. The broth stains the grains around it with a tint of red. 
He rests his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl before leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. It’s a lot. I’m sorry.”
You shake your head. “Don’t be sorry.” The response feels automatic, but you do mean it. He has nothing to be sorry for.
You look at him, really look, searching his features. There’s something in his eyes that breaks your heart—as though he had come here already expecting heartbreak, yet showed up nonetheless. 
Just like that, all the questions, any plans you had for today, vanish like smoke. 
“Just—just wait here.” You set your chopsticks on your bowl. The bamboo clacks softly right before the chair creaks as you stand, stumbling back a little as you turn to your bedroom. 
“Where is that—” you mutter. “Aha!” You run back to the table, where Wonwoo is waiting. Under his fingers, the takeout napkin is all but shreds, though he does try to hide it under the table once you arrive. You approach him, dragging your chair so you can sit beside him, nothing separating you.
“Hold out your hands,” you instruct. Wonwoo does, and you set down a copy of Emma on his waiting palms. But not the one he gave you the other day. It’s yours, the one you’ve owned for many years.
Wonwoo stares at it, before lifting his gaze to you. 
“Did you know,” you begin softly. “I used to like Persuasion the most. I loved how it was written, how both characters were more mature than the ones in her other books. Pride and Prejudice had my favorite characters. But Emma…”
You thumb at its spine, and then at the crease on the cover, a thin white line disrupting what would have been solid black. Its careworn edges are familiar under your fingertips, and you know if you fan the pages in front of your nose it will smell like the characteristic scent of old books.
“Emma is the one I reread the most. At least, certain parts of it.” There’s a page marked—the scene where Mr Knightley finally lays his heart bare to Emma. From behind your back, you bring out his gift, flicking through the pages until you find the same page in this copy, Wonwoo’s only highlight in a book annotated with black pen. 
If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.
In your copy, there’s the same, with a note in your handwriting—in the script you first learned in high school and tried to revisit some years ago before giving up: me!!! but also me when!!!!!
Wonwoo looks at both of these, mouth parted. You know how sharp he is, how the pieces have already come together in his mind. 
“Really?” He asks, voice soft, as though he can hardly believe it. The only thing left is for him to believe it. You know, because you are the same. It was only the heartbreak in his eyes, the anticipated rejection at the start, that made it sure for you. 
Tentatively, your hands wander, moving from clasping the book to cupping his hands, cool under your own. You glance down at the book.
“‘If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream.’” Finally, you allow the giddy smile to spread across your face. Your heart flutters against your ribs, so utterly alive. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”
His lips twitch upward. After a moment, he begins to chuckle, and the weight on his shoulders seems to dissolve before your eyes. You begin to laugh too, simply out of the sheer relief of finally realizing that the past few days are now behind both of you. 
“In case it isn’t obvious, Jeon Wonwoo, I’ve been in love with you too.” You whisper. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. Where before, he was afraid to look at you, now, it seems it’s all he can do. The fondness in his gaze is enough to bring anyone to their knees.
“Thank God,” he whispers back. You just stay there, basking in the moment, letting the joy finally seep itself into bones that have been weighed by resignation for so long. After a while, you begin to pull away, only you catch how Wonwoo’s gaze drops down as you do. You pause, gazing at him questioningly.
There’s a minute tremble in his hands as he reaches for your face, brushing your cheek with his fingers. His thumb traces a line on your jaw. He leans in, but stops, watching your reaction first before closing the distance all the way.
Though his approach was hesitant, the kiss itself is anything but. His hands find your cheek, then your neck, then your waist, pulling you further forward. You thread your fingers through his hair, both to bring him closer and to anchor yourself. There’s the faint taste of spicy broth, but you don’t care, knowing you’re the same anyway.
“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,” you murmur once he pulls away, shaking your head. “Why now? How long have you known?”
Wonwoo just smiles. “It’s been a few months since either of us had a partner. And after the last one, when I was made to choose…they called me out on how unfair I was being, trying to be with them even as they knew I was in love with someone else.”
Your breath catches in your throat even as he continues.
“I tried to deny it, at the time, but they knew even before I did.” he finishes. He tilts his head and leans forward, closing the distance again. It’s more insistent now, the hands on your waist fully pulling you onto his lap. Wonwoo’s teeth nip at your lower lip, and you gasp. It shifts from chaste into something more demanding; his hands wander, fingers trailing paths of fire as they run across your back and grip your waist, as though he were finally releasing everything that had been pent up in him until this moment. 
He swallows you into himself, and you allow yourself to be pulled into his passion. His mouth moves, latching down onto your neck and sucking. A quiet, shuddering moan leaves your lips. Wonwoo freezes. He pulls away, stricken, looking at you.
“Sorry,” he rasps. “I took it too far.” His hair is mussed, lips swollen and puffy. Something in your stomach stirs as you look at him like this—a Wonwoo you’d never seen before. A Wonwoo who is like this because of you. “I—”
You kiss him again, just because you can. Just a small thing, a tender reassurance. Pulling away, you smile. Absently, you play with the short strands of hair at his nape. “You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”
After a beat, he chuckles, shoulders relaxing as his thumbs trace circles on your waist. Wonwoo leans in, lets your lips meet again in a slow dance, almost lazy. Like you finally have all the time in the world.
“Okay. But maybe after dinner and brushing our teeth. I’m still hungry.”
“Deal.”
Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.
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daisymbin · 2 months ago
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jeon wonwoo
the bad in the kitchen friend tries baking. for you.
check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list
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